“And then it’s just more fire.”
We reclined on the blanket at the same time, as if we’d had the same thought. Our shoulders bumped into each other as we watched the clouds drift across a bright blue sky. The summer breeze cooled my skin and lifted the rogue hairs across my forehead.
I turned my head and looked at him. He did the same thing. The sky was in his eyes. “Something happened to me.” The words were out of my mouth before I’d fully decided to say them. “It’s what turned me into a runner. Or, uh, the person I am today. It made me want to run. I just… I get scared. And I run away before things can get real.”
His fingertips drifted down my forearm until he found my hand. He wove our fingers together as he searched my face.
My body had stiffened, the itch in my feet that was, even now, whispering to run.
“Is that why the night of the rehearsal dinner was not okay?”
I nodded. “It bothered me that I couldn’t remember. That I would put myself in a situation like that when I was so far gone. And then I just assumed that you were the kind of guy that would…” I shook my head, unable to even say words about Vann that would suggest he was anything but incredible. And trustworthy.
“Do you want to talk about it?” His hand squeezed mine and I knew this was a safe space. I knew he would take my confession and treat me with grace and kindness. I knew I could tell Vann anything. At this moment, I knew that. But I still couldn’t get the words out.
They had lodged themselves in my throat and calcified over time. They were fossils by now. Still real. Still damaging. Still slicing my trachea wide open. But I could not speak them.
“I find that I can’t actually say the words yet,” I whispered, finding it hard to even get that much of a confession out.
His brows drew down in a deeper frown. “I’m here for you, Dillon. Whenever you want to say them, I’m here to listen. You won’t shock me. You won’t scare me off. Whatever happened, I am here to help you carry the burden.”
I realized then that he hadn’t put all of the pieces together. And I shouldn’t have expected him to. Just because the answer was so clear to me, didn’t mean anyone else would assume it about me. But I felt hope in his promises.
He’d stayed this long. Maybe he could hear the truth and trust me like I was learning to trust him.
“Thank you,” I told him, tears wetting my eyes.
“Come here.” He pulled me into a hug right there on the blanket, in our sideways position. Our legs intertwined automatically, and we wrapped each other up in the tightest hug—spandex to spandex.
We stayed like that for an hour. Just hugging. Just feeling warmth from each other and reassurance and the promise of something yet to come.
It was the most perfect afternoon of my life.
Twenty
Reopening weekend!And it felt so good.
Bianca was officially launched with our new vibe. Molly had helped come up with a gorgeous tagline—casual French for the modern American. And we’d run a ridiculously successful internet campaign thanks to her freaking genius marketing super skills.
We’d even revamped the interior of the dining room to reflect a brighter, sunnier, more brunch-like mood. Flowers were refreshed. Dishes were replaced. I’d even convinced Ezra to go with a lighter, smaller-pronged set of silverware.
I’d reached out to Killian’s bartender friend, Will English at Craft, for some French breakfast cocktails and was super impressed with his help. This morning we were serving our version of a French 75, champagne and gin and a splash of orange juice. We’d added a toothpick with a strawberry, lime wedge, and agave syrup drizzle. We were calling it the Breakfast 75. We also had a pomegranate and champagne sparkling thingy that was perfectly refreshing. They were both delicious. I’d had ample samples this week.
Just to be sure—obviously.
We also had traditional mimosas and Bloody Marys.
Because now wasn’t the time to get snobby. We were trying to get people inside the restaurant. If they wanted tomato juice and vodka with whole strips of bacon and a cheeseburger slider on a stick, who was I to turn them down?
If they were willing to pay $17.99 a pop, more power to them.
Our final menu was something I considered a work of art. The whole kitchen staff had pitched in to make this brunch a shining star in a section of Durham that had no breakfast options.
Of course, my dreams included total and complete world domination. But I would start with this neighborhood and work my way out.
We had an eggs benedict station, that included protein and vegetarian options like smoked salmon, fried green tomatoes, and crispy, peppered pork belly. Our croque madame had been perfected with jalapeno raspberry jam, hickory smoked bacon, rich and creamy camembert and crispy kale chips—that idea I’d gotten from Vann’s picnic.
But hey, those crunchy little suckers really worked. And I loved the salty component they brought.
