She looks at me. “Thank you for setting that up.”
“You’re welcome.” I tap the steering wheel lightly. “Ready for part two?”
“Ready as I will ever be,” she says. “As long as it does not involve you pushing me off something high.”
“No promises,” Ianswer, and she snorts.
The road out to the Falls winds past the last of the town’s houses and into trees. The sun drops lower, slipping between branches. Kate leans forward in her seat when the sound of water reaches us through the open windows.
I park the truck and I get out, rounding the hood to her door. After she hops out, I grab the bag from the back.
We hike down the worn path, careful on the rocks. The falls spill over boulders into a wide pool, the surface catching bits of light like scattered coins, ferns and cedars creating a secluded space, containing the hushed roar of the water.
Kate stops at the edge of the pool and just looks.
“Wow,” she whispers. “I haven’t been out here since high school. Funny how it’s just outside of town, but I never make time to come out here.”
“Then you’re overdue,” I say. “Stay there.”
I spread a blanket over a patch of grass and start unpacking the basket. Crackers go down first, then the three wedges of cheese and the prosciutto that Glen at Lowry’s deli counter suggested. A container of strawberries joins them, followed by a jar of olives and a few chocolate squares. I set a bottle of Prosecco in the center with two Solo cups beside it, the whole spread looking better than I expected.
When I glance up, she’s watching me with a look that says she doesn’t quite know what to do.
“What is all that?” she asks.
“Girl dinner,” I say, straight-faced.
She laughs, the sound bright against the water. “You did research.”
“Maybe.”
She drops onto the blanket across from me, folding her legs under her. “Okay, Wells, you’ve impressed me.”
We eat slowly, sharing crackers and slicing cheese, passing things back and forth. She makes fun of my olive choices. I tell her her cracker stacking is a structural hazard. The conversation drifts from small things to deeper ones without either of us forcing it.
I brush the cracker crumbs from my hands and nod toward the falls. “You know, people in high school used to say if you made a wish here, it would come true.”
She takes a sip of wine. “They did say that. If I remember correctly, I wished for a car that didn’t break down and a boyfriend who wasn’t an idiot.”
“How did that work out for you?” I ask.
“I got a car eventually,” she says, then she looks up at me with a teasing grin. “The second part has recently looked achievable.”
My chest tightens. “Oh yeah?”
She shrugs. “Maybe. What would you wish for now?”
I consider it for a moment. There are a lot of things I could list. A state championship. Less paperwork. One of those robot lawn mowers. But each one feels trivial somehow.
“I think I would wish for time,” I say. “I’m turning thirty soon and it just feels like I’m going through the motions. I want more time for when things get good.”
Her brows pinch. “Things aren’t good now?”
I laugh, my hand reaching out to rub her back. “They’re improving.”
Her expression shifts, turning soft. “That is a good wish, then.”
“What about you? Give me a new wish.”
