“Yes, Keaton. I’m sure.”
He shakes his head and smiles at me. “You’re fucking amazing, Charlie.”
“Damn straight,” I quip.
We finish eating, laughter bubbling between us as we clean up and pack the basket together. Fingers entwined, we carry it back to the car. This time, he grabs a bag of oats and sliced grapes, handing them to me with a grin.
“We’re gonna feed the ducks?” I ask excitedly.
“Yeah, beautiful. We’re going to feed some ducks.”
I squeal and spin in a circle, his laughter ringing out. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve heard in ages. Admitting how much I’ve missed Keaton is hard, but if I’m honest, I’ve missed him for longer than I care to admit.
We feed the ducks, laughing at their ridiculous antics as they waddle and gobble up every crumb.
When the last oats and grapes are gone, I grab Keaton’s hand and tug him toward the swings.
“Push me?” I ask, turning to him.
“Of course,” he replies, brushing a finger down my cheek before helping me into the swing.
He gives me a gentle push. “Do you have any idea how absolutely fucking beautiful you are when you let yourself be free?”
As I swing forward, I lean back and close my eyes, letting the breeze kiss my face. “There’s something about letting it all go. The worries. The burdens.”
When I swing back towards him, he grabs the handles and pulls me to a stop. I’m still leaning backwards, so I’m left peering up into his face as he looks down at me.
“There is. Just don’t ever brush the important things away because sometimes those need to be faced.”
“I’m not. I just know how to manage things better now.”
When I’m done swinging, we stroll around the pond, our hands swinging between us. He holds on tight, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away, but he doesn’t have to worry. I’m not letting go just yet.
We’re chatting about my ideas for new expansions when Keaton’s phone buzzes in his pocket. The sound makes me flinch, even though I don’t mean to.
“Can you do me a favor, beautiful?”
I glance up at him, but he’s not paying me any attention, his gaze watching the ducks swim through the pond.
“I don’t want to let your hand go. Can you grab my phone out of my pocket and read that to me?” he asks.
My mouth opens and closes, surprised by how casually he asks. He never hid his phone from me before, but he’s never asked me to read his messages either.
I fish his phone out, pausing when I see his background. A photo of me, glancing over my shoulder and sticking out my tongue. He snapped it on one of our coffee dates, but I never expected it to be his wallpaper. Warm butterflies flutter in my stomach.
“Bear says you all have a new artist that came in looking for a job and wants to know if you want him to hire them because their portfolio is fucking amazing. He said he had him do one on a regular client, and they were so impressed they left him a hundred-dollar tip,” I read off.
“Thanks. It’s nothing that can’t wait.”
My hands tremble as I lock the phone and slip it back into his pocket. A lump rises in my throat, making it hard to swallow, and my eyes sting with tears.
Keaton pulls us to a stop and turns me towards him, grasping my chin between his fingers and lifting my face. He watches the tear fall down my cheek with sadness before leaning down to kiss it away.
That single gesture steals my heart. There’s so much remorse, pain, and sorrow in his kiss. He’s trying so hard to mend what he broke, and it hurts him to see me hurting.
“I hate this,” I whisper.
His body trembles in front of mine. “Can I hold you?”
