I narrowed my eyes.
“Everything you’ve told me so far makes me think he’s into you, and he’s the kind of guy you always saw yourself with,” she pointedout. “Smart, sweet, into books and history. And he writes you all those letters. Pretty romantic, no?”
A shadow stretched across the grass, drawing my attention and pulling Davis along behind it. He paused to run a forearm over his brow as he approached. The opposite hand pressed to his hip. Sweat-dampened hair clung to his temples and forehead. “Care if I grab a glass of water?”
“Not at all,” I said brightly. “Since you’re not working at the moment, I’d love to introduce you to my best friend, Cecily.”
He flashed his most charming smile in her direction. “Davis. Nice to meet you.”
“You as well,” she said. “I’ve heard so many things.” Being Cecily, she dragged the smallest word in her statement as long as she could.
Davis’s brows knitted, unsure how to take the implication. “Can I get either of you anything while I’m inside?”
“No, thank you,” I said, as Cecily announced, “You should join us. Have you eaten?”
I kicked her under the table, which would’ve been stealthier if our table had a cloth.
Davis gave me a terse look. “No, but thank you. I have a lot of work to do, and I know how much Emma’s missed you. I don’t want to interrupt.”
She shot me a stinky look.
“Maybe the next time you’re in town, you can swing by my buddy Clayton’s pub,” he suggested. “Food’s great, and so’s he.”
“I’d love that.”
Davis went inside and closed the door.
I fought a smile. “Do not try to encourage anything. It’s not going to happen.”
“At least tell me his friend is that good looking,” she said. “Then point me in the direction of that pub.”
I shook my head slowly. “You’re a nut.”
“I’m on vacation, and all the doctors I work with are married or obsessed with themselves.”
A pang of guilt hit my chest, and I cracked. “Fine. Clayton is nice looking, but I’m definitely not going back to his pub.”
“Never say never.” She shrugged. “Besides, maybe he delivers.”
Chapter Twenty
Cecily left the next morning, and my heart sank at the loss. But her visit had revived me. She’d helped me uncover some uncomfortable truths about my faulty thought processes and made me question things I’d blindly accepted about myself and others for too long. Most importantly, I’d realized that, in some ways, my family was still recovering from Mom’s cancer. That revelation alone was profound enough to change everything. Healing and nurturing those relationships would be the first thing I worked on when I got home.
I’d been making myself miserable, working around the clock in search of love via earning praise, instead of opening myself up to share time and receive affection. Which meant I’d essentially created a lifestyle that had kept me away from the things I wanted most. I’d never even adopted a dog because I was too busy to take on a new responsibility. More irony. Because the dog would’ve cheerfully given me its time and affection, if I’d made room for it.
I was willing to bet my family would have as well.
Round and round I’d spun, working to earn compliments and thanks. Believing that would make me happy, and knowing it was never enough.
Attagirls were not love.
I’d had it twisted from the start.
And busy or not, surrounded by people or not, I’d been a recluse in my own way in Willow Bend. But unlike Emily, my aloneness had been unintentional.
Another line from Emily’s poetry circled in my mind as I began a new journal entry.
A word is dead when it is said, some say. I say it just begins to live that day.
