A few minutes away from the farmhouse was Avonlea Village. It was touristy, but cute, with quaint shops and charming little houses. It didn’t look much like the town I’d always visualized, but I didn’t care.
We had pizza at an Italian restaurant called Piatto and bought a big bag of candy at a chocolate shop. Trey liked chocolate as much as I did, and we ended up fighting over the ones that had the toffee center. It was funny to see him acting like a child, running after me as I tried to escape and gobble them down. I stuffed a handful in my mouth and nearly choked on them.
We rested a while on the lawn in one of the gardens before heading to New London, where I saw the house in which Lucy Maud Montgomery was born. The place where her entire world took shape.
In the afternoon, he recommended going back to the hotel so we could shower and get ready for dinner. I thought it was a brilliant idea. I’d been sweating, and I had grass blades and little bits of chocolate in my hair.
We returned to Cavendish, not far from Green Gables.
“Is this our hotel?” I asked.
“Yeah. Do you like it?”
I nodded, mouth hanging open, eyes wide as saucers, staring at the imposing white building that I assumed was the center of the complex. All around it were pretty little cabins. The whole place was like something from a fairy tale.
A nice women greeted us in reception and accompanied us to our rooms on the second floor. Dragging my suitcase upstairs, I felta tingle in my body like a premonition. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Trey and was surprised to find his head hanging low, his features stiff with worry. But as soon as he noticed I was observing him, all that disappeared. He smiled and winked.
When we entered the room, I jumped on the bed and lay there a few minutes staring up. But what I saw wasn’t the white ceiling above me. Instead I saw dozens of images, shooting past one after the other like a slideshow. I was happier than I’d ever been, and all I could think about was savoring every minute of that night and the day that would follow. Every second next to him. That man who had turned my dull gray world into one that was alive and moving.
I rubbed my lips, remembering when he’d kissed me. And I wondered what I should think of it. We’d been acting like two friends. But then there were moments when we seemed to be stripping each other bare.
Or no. That wasn’t true. Not really.
I was the one who was stripping myself bare.
I had opened my chest for him like a window and shown him the bleeding heart inside. He had seen everything I was. My light. My darkness. My dreams and desires. My secrets. It was as if he had a superpower and could force out of me all the emotions I tried to keep under control. Opening up inside me the space I needed to keep from suffocating.
Trey, though, was closed up. I hadn’t noticed that until just then. Sure, I knew things about him. He’d talked to me about his projects, things he was doing and things he wanted to do. How he loved the mountains in winter and the beach in summer. How he planned to design and build a home one day on the shores of one of the Great Lakes, where he’d live surrounded by dogs when humanity no longer had anything to offer him.
But I knew there was much more there under the surface. I’dcaught sight of that something more once or twice, but just hints of it, like that moment on the stairs.
I got up and walked to the bathroom. After a quick shower, I looked at myself in the mirror. My skin was tanned, which brought out my eyes. I didn’t need any makeup, I thought. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and smoothed out the bottom of the flowery dress I’d put on. Then I rubbed my belly, trying to calm myself.
I heard a knock at the door. When I opened up, I couldn’t help but gawk a moment at his body in those black jeans and that black button-down shirt. Then I saw his recently shaved face, so smooth it was hard not to reach up and touch it. He smelled nice, and he was so handsome it hurt. He could probably tell I was thinking that. His smile told me he knew everything, while I knew nothing about him.
“You look dazzling,” he said.
“Thanks. You too.”
“Ready for dinner?”
I nodded, elated.
We got in the car, and five minutes later we were parking next to a country house with cedar siding and white windows. It must have been a farmhouse at one time—the curving roof gave it away. There were planters overflowing with gardenias on the sills of the upper windows. Creeping vines climbed the walls, and all around were big flowerpots with bushes and flowering plants. The lighting was scant, giving the place a romantic feel.
As soon as we were inside, I fell in love with the place. The dining room was small and intimate, and the decoration eclectic, combining old and new. On the walls were paintings by local artists for sale, and there was a bouquet of roses on each table.
A waitress walked us over to a window table set for two and soon returned to take our order. We chose the grilled vegetable and goatcheese salad with vinaigrette, pork loin with mustard and roasted apples, a bottle of red wine, and a couple of appetizers.
“This place is beautiful,” I said.
“You like it?”
“I love it! I know I promised not to ask questions and just go along, but…did you already know about the hotel, this restaurant, and everywhere else?”
“No. I’ve never been here. This is my first time in Cavendish.”
“Then how’d you…?”
