I could see he wanted to say something more, but I needed a little break from whatever this was between us. I needed to breathe. The incessant reminder of how different our lives were had done its damage.
He hopped out and helped me with the bags and took out one of the six packs in the case of cider as he helped me to the door. Lucy and Charlie danced around his legs. The minute we got to the porch, the door opened, both my parents looking on with far too much interest.
“Hello, Mr. Dalton.”
“Nice to see you, Tate. We were beginning to think you only knew our daughter these days.”
I winced.
“Sorry, I’ve been monopolizing her time, sir.”
“Well, c’mon in.” He opened the door wider.
I was about to take the bags off his hands, but he walked right in, dammit.
“Amber did some damage at the orchard.” He set down the bags on the kitchen island. “I’ll be right back, we have more in the truck.”
“Oh, I forgot about the food.” I smiled at my mom. “I got you some apples. I figured we could do some baking.”
“That sounds nice.”
Tate took off back outside.The distant sound of him wrestling with the dogs made me want to go join him. Anythingbut face the questions I knew they had for what was going on between us.
My mother crossed her arms and cocked her hip making my heart do a little skip. I hadn’t seen that look in a long time. Before the inquisition, I rushed back to the door to help him with the stack of baked goods and huge bag of apples we’d picked out.
“Tate, would you like some coffee?”
He smiled over my head at my mother. “That sounds great.”
I tamped down a growl and followed him to the kitchen island.
“How’s the village coming along?”
“Slowly.” Tate laughed. “But we’re getting there. I was hoping to get the artists set up the first week in November, but I think it’ll be closer to the middle of the month.”
“That’s perfect for most shopping. I’m looking forward to seeing who you have lined up.”
My mom and Tate talked about the local artisans. Being in Manhattan and Los Angeles, I was out of the loop. I unpacked the bags of food and put the cider in the fridge.
My dad was back in his chair in front of the television, the sound on low.
Unsure what to do with myself, I dug into the gift shop bags and started organizing the gifts I’d purchased. Some for my dancers, my manager, publicist, and the endless list of people who helped my career keep on turning.
I had a handful of people I called friends, and it felt like it was dwindling by the year. I’d lost touch with the musicians I came up with and I’d been too engrossed in my music to have tight friends from high school.
Tate’s hand landed on my shoulder. “I’m going to go.”
I turned and glanced at him. “Sorry. I was?—”
He rubbed my arms in that way he did that made my whole system even out. “It’s been a long day. I get it.”
I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but that was a can of worms even he wouldn’t want to open up in front of my parents.
“Thanks, Tate.”
He nodded, seeming to understand. “I’ll see you.”
I smiled up at him. Something had shifted between us. Frustrated that I was the one who’d done it, I didn’t know how to unravel it. To let the moments from earlier curl back around us like that old cardigan he wore that made me crazy.
