“Okay, yes, I knew that too. So what brought you to Baker Oaks in the first place? Your dad?”
“Yeah, and I was having a hard day, but then I happened to walk into a flower shop. A beautiful girl offered a stranger kindness, and now, that stranger can’t seem to stay away.”
My heart does that stupid thump thing every time he lets little words like that go. I don’t know if he does it on purpose, or if he’s just an eternal flirt. “Beautiful, huh?” I get the courage to ask.
He holds my gaze, showing me the sincerity behind his words. “You were wearing green overalls,” he says. “Long ones. Tiny flowers. Black shirt. Your hair was up with waves falling around your face. Green bandanna to match.”
He closes his eyes like he’s replaying it, like he memorized that day, and pulls at the memory when he needs it. Like he memorizedme.
“You looked like you stepped out of a movie or one of those aesthetic boards,” he says. “And…that was it. I kinda felt at peace, even if for a moment.”
I swallow hard, but he continues, “You were so bright. Happy. Like you radiated something. I wanted to know the secret.”
“The secret to what?” I ask as we sit on a bench overlooking the dark green water.
“How you stay so happy,” he says. “How someone can live with that much…light.”
My chest tightens. The truth pushes in, clawing its way up and up, and I’m afraid it will spill. He thinks I’m light? Funny, because actually, I lost mine the day that hurting boy thoughtthe only way out of his demons was by bringing a gun to school and accidentally killing my husband.
“There’s no secret,” I say. Then, I swallow the lump in my throat. “You fake it.”
His brows knit.
“You fake it,” I repeat. “Nobody is that happy all the time. Some of us are good at pretending.”
And God, it feels terrifying to be that honest. Idoappreciate my life, and Iamhappy, but after Nick died…there were days when I didn’t know how to breathe, days I thought I’d collapse under it all. I thought for a moment my body would forget how to function. I for sure thought if I ever lost Nick, I wasn’t going to survive.
We were so intertwined, our souls, hearts, and bodies, that once he wasn’t earthside, I believed I wouldn’t be able to keep going. I was wrong. My heart may theoretically be unable to beat without him, but physically, it kept going.
My lungs kept breathing.
My eyes kept blinking.
And I had to learn how to live a new life without half my soul. He doesn’t speak or move. He gives me space to, what? Think? Spiral? Miss my dead husband?
The thing is, I’m still here, so I try to spread a little of him everywhere I go, even now. Sitting here. Trying to see if dating again is possible.
He’d want that. He’d want me to try.
“So,” he says, breaking the silence and turning to face me. “What’s your favorite color?”
“What?” A laugh escapes me. What a random question.
“What’s your favorite color?” he repeats, not extra words or explanations. It’s like he feels the heaviness has me out of balance and wants to give me a place to land.
“Sage green,” I reply without hesitation.
He hums. “I figured.”
“What do you mean by that?
“Have you seen your house, the store, your clothes? It’s everywhere.”
You know what? He’s not wrong. Everything is green, and I don’t mind it.
“It makes your hair color pop.”
I smile and nod, because he’s right. As an only child whose parents didn’t have red hair, it was one of those things where I’d rather not stand out. But the year I met Cara, she cried like the little drama queen she is, because according to her, it was not fair I got the most beautiful hair color. I literally laughed at her and was like,nobody in our school has hair like me. She side-eyed me, threw a French fry at me, and said,So you have the most unique hair around. Way to be a queen without even trying. She made me feel like I was worth a million dollars, and ever since, I’ve embraced my hair. Green makes the color pop, he’s right, and I love it.
