He shakes his head slowly. “No, I’m keeping my current commitments, but less Posh. More April. No, make that no Posh. No random dates, no late-night parties. None of that nonsense. It’s not me. I like long walks with the dogs, candlelight dinners ... Legos.”
I tip my head back with laughter.
By the time we return, the house is relatively empty, and I’m exhausted. Emotionally wrung out. My brain feels like it’s been pickled in vinegar with the rest of the colorful eggs in the basket on the now cleared dining room table.
I go to bed and instantly fall asleep. But it’s restless as I think about a boy who was daydreaming about me while I wasfantasizing about him, the two of us growing up and not finding a way to tell each other how we really feel.
The next morning,I’m up at dawn. The dogs are already rousing, ready for breakfast, morning playtime, and yes, another walk. Clark must’ve already gotten up because he’s not on the lower bunk.
I want to sleep for five more minutes. No, five more years, but I get up because I’m a guest and have to be mature—I can’t hide from life even though I still prefer to drink out of a juice box.
I find him in the kitchen, sitting at the table alone, gazing out the window into the backyard as buttery morning light filters through the tall trees surrounding the rear edge of the property.
He takes a long, lazy look at me as if I’m making a debut of some sort. Then, like the theater curtain is lifted and he just now remembers his lines, he splutters, “Good morning, sunshine. I made sure there was coffee waiting for you when you got up. How’d you sleep?”
I shrug a shoulder, keeping it real. “Meh.”
Relaxing slightly, he says, “Yeah. Me too.”
Even though I feel anything but normal, I’d like to skip to our regularly scheduled programming, so I say, “Want to take the dogs for a you-know-what?”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He exhales as if relieved that not only am I still here and didn’t run away, but I’m not being dramatic about what Claudia said.
We walk in silence for the first few minutes, letting the dogs lead the way. Moose immediately finds a stick that’s basically a log, while Lulu copies him, only the branch she finds istwice her size, but she insists on dragging it. Purdy prances beside me, her anxiety from the shelter a distant memory. Scout and Buster engage in their usual sniffing competition.
“So,” Clark finally says, breaking the silence. “That happened.”
“That definitely happened.”
“I’m sorry about Claudia. She shouldn’t have?—”
“Don’t apologize. I’m glad she said something. We’ve wasted ten years keeping secrets.”
Clark adjusts the Knights’ hat on his head. “I wanted to tell you so many times. But I was worried. What if you didn’t feel the same? What if I ruined our friendship? What if?—?”
“What if we were both too scared to take the risk?”
In his eyes, I see a decade’s worth of desire reflected back. The longing. The fear. The hope.
“April, I need you to know something.” His voice is serious, steady. “All of this—the fake dating, the campaign, the rules we made—it stopped being fake for me a long time ago. Maybe it never was at all.”
My breath catches. “Clark?—”
“I know we said no falling in love. I know we’re supposed to go back to being friends when this is over. But I can’t.” He steps closer, and my pulse starts doing jumping jacks. Forget the crisp morning, the blood is really pumping now. “I don’t want to go back to being just friends. I want?—”
“Me too,” I whisper. “Whatever you’re about to say, me too.”
The words hang between us for a heartbeat. Two. Three.
Then the spring breeze kicks up, blowing my hair into my face. Before I can push it away, Clark reaches up and gently tucks the curls behind my ear. His fingers linger on my cheek.
The sun glints in my eyes and I squint.
He takes off the Knights’ baseball cap and settles iton my head. It’s warm yet too big, sliding down slightly, and he adjusts it with a small smile. “There. Perfect.”
I’m drowning in his scent—evergreen and home and Clark.
“Thank you,” I manage.
