And just like that, the awkwardness faded. Thirty seconds later we were digging into the charcuterie board, discussing the meat and cheeses. I’d hand-picked and flavor paired everything myself. Down to the pinot noir we were drinking.
Every few seconds, Miranda would try another flavor combo and hum in satisfaction. I couldn’t stop smiling. I knew she would love it.
“What is that again?” She pointed to a cheese.
“Gruyere.”
“And this?”
“Fig jam.”
We enjoyed the food in silence for a while. She was so engrossed in dinner and the sunset and the lake around us that I was watching her completely undetected.
She looked at me and the quiet space between us was full. Pushing and pulling. Longing and resistance mounding together. Her eyes dropped to my lips.
I winked to break the moment and looked away.
If I didn’t look away, I’d smother her before she could even object. And as much as I wanted to crush her against the dock, I wouldn’t make the first move. She’d have to give.
Another moment of silence passed and we listened to thetiny waves lapping the shore behind us. The dock dipped with the gentle tide. The pink and orange of the sunset had completely melted into purple hues, darkness covering us, minus the twinkle lights and the lit windows from houses across the lake.
I slid the charcuterie board out from between us as Miranda finished and stretched out, looking into the sky. Stars were appearing in the edges of the sky—the furthest from the disappearing sunlight.
I refilled both of our wine glasses.
Images of us together the last time we were here played in my brain. The way she’d pulled off her dress and jumped into the water…I cleared my throat, knowing I needed to talk. Needed a distraction. When I spoke, my voice was low. Scraping my vocal chords. “Tell me something.”
“This again?” She laughed as she turned toward me, propping on an elbow.
“Yep. Anything you want.”
“I don’t know what else to tell you about me.”
“How about your summers with Tag? Tell me about those.”
She sipped her wine to stall. “I love Tag.”
“I know.”
“Feel like he was the only person who cared if I was happy when I was little.”
She started talking. Telling me about how they’d ride horses, muck stalls, climb trees, and swim in the disgusting pond. She told me how they’d gotten into trouble a hundred times and about her Granny who was kind and loving even though she could hardly control them.
She didn’t stop talking for a long while. When she finally did, her wine was gone and she was laying on her back, looking at the stars in their full glory.
“Why did you spend summers in Texas and not with your mom?”
“Because mom and Trent didn’t like changing their schedules all summer for me.”
“Why?”
“Well, Mom did whatever the man she was currently with told her to do. And Trent didn’t like me. Didn’t like the inconvenience of a child.” She shook her head. “I was upset about Dad leaving and acted out a lot. I think they thought life was easier without me. Then it kind of became a routine. I’d come home from the last day of school in May, pack my bags and get in the car. Wouldn’t see them again until August and barely even talked to them throughout the weeks I was gone.”
“And your mom was okay with that?”
“She cared a lot more about the men in her life than she did about me. Dad, a couple boyfriends, Trent.”
“Have you talked to her?”
