“So you stepped up,” he says. “Became the brains of the business.”
I shrug.
“And you gave up what you loved.” He nods, like he understands.
I glance at the ground and we start walking again.
“And it still hurts,” he says. “Even though if you had the choice again, you’d make the exact same decision, but you still wonder what if.”
“Right,” I say. “Exactly that.” I couldn’t have put it more perfectly myself. It’s like he’s stared into my soul. Like he’s inside me looking out, seeing everything through my eyes. I rarely meet new people, and I’ve never met anyone like Jack before. Never felt anything like the way I do when he looks at me. The warmth. The understanding. The connection.
He’s a man who sees me, not just the fruit farmer’s daughter, but the real me. The whole me.
FOUR
Jack
I don’t believe in love at first sight. I really don’t.
One of my best friends, Worth, maintains that he fell in love with his wife the moment he laid eyes on her. I’ve always assumed he mistook lust for love.
But now I’m not so sure.
Iris instantly caught my attention. I was drawn to her in a way that was entirely inexplicable. But now? Talking to her? I never want our conversation to end. Not only is she breathtakingly beautiful. Elegant. Delicate. But now I know beneath her beauty lies a strength of character I couldn’t have expected. The way she endured her mother’s death so bravely, sacrificed her dreams for her family? She’s got steel inside her that’s hidden well.
“You still work in the family business?” I ask.
She nods her head. “Yup. You’re right. Now I’m the brains.” She smiles wide at me, and every time she does, it lights up something inside me, like something sleeping in me is coaxed awake.
“And once a year you come to the ballet and you let yourself remember what you sacrificed.”
Her smile dims, and I wish I could put the words back and never have spoken them.
“What about you?” she asks.
“Well, I work in the family business too.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Are we supposed to enjoy what we do?”
A flash of pity crosses her reflection. It’s not a look I’m used to. Few people pity me. “I really think we are. I don’t think most people do though.”
“Right. So I guess I’m like most of America. I’m very privileged, in lots of ways. I have a job and I’m very lucky. That’s the way I try to see it at least.”
“But sometimes youdon’tsee it like that?” she asks. “Working in a family business is hard. It strains relationships that should only be about love and support, and they become about money and…”
“Expectations,” I say, and the word sits heavy in me. “About the next generation. Legacy.”
She bursts out laughing, and I smile at her, warmed by her response. “I don’t think our family thinks much about the next generation and legacy. I think we’re much more about making sure everyone who should have paid has paid and ensuring we can survive another winter.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I was insensitive. My family’s concerns are nothing compared to yours.”
She shakes her head and places her hand on my arm. I feel it heat my entire body, like her touch is breathing new life into me. “You weren’t at all.Iwas being insensitive. Just because we’re not worried about the same things doesn’t mean your worries aren’t valid.”
“It’s different,” I say. “You’re right. I suppose we still operate within certain constraints. Except yours are dictated by bills and payments and mine are dictated by… expectations and…”
“Expectations of who?”
