With a mortifyinglittle snivel that makes me want to hide behind the nearestdecorative hay bale, I frantically dig in my purse once more fortissues. “Don’t look at me, my eyes are leaking again.”
“Andnot looking at you will make it stop?”
“No,but it’ll be a lot less embarrassing. I’m sure you’ll recall I’mnot a pretty crier.”
“Idon’t know about that,” he says softly, but he averts his gazeanyway. I watch him as he checks out our surroundings, his eyeslingering on the café sign a few feet away. “How would you feelabout getting a coffee? I could take the flowers to the car andgive you a minute to deal with your leaky eyes in private.” Hegrins when I let out another watery laugh. “It’s nice out, so wecould walk for a bit or find somewhere to sit.”
“Don’tyou have other stuff to do?” I ask. “Things that need to be takencare of while you’re home?”
“Nothing that’s more important than spending time with you.”The way he says it leaves no doubt in my mind he means it. It alsocauses a small pang of longing in my heart. I wish I could alwaysbe one of Wesley’s top priorities, but I’ll take every second I canget with him while he’s home.
I tell him I’llorder for us and meet him back here in a few minutes. I don’t evenrealize I’ve been watching him walk away until he turns a cornerand disappears from sight. Giving myself a mental shake, I headinto the café, breathing in the delicious scents of coffee,chocolate, cinnamon, and baked goods. I contemplate getting ussomething to eat to go with our drinks, but we probably don’t needanything after all the cake we ate at the bakery. By the time Imake it back outside after waiting in line for several minutes,Wesley has already returned.
“Ismell pumpkin,” he says by way of greeting.
I hold up bothcups. “I took a chance and got pumpkin spice lattes. I can go backand get you a plain coffee if you prefer.”
Wesley takes oneof the cups from me and pops the lid, inhaling the scented steam.“Last year, this café I often go to in Ottawa got my order mixed upand gave me pumpkin spice instead of my usual latte. I decided totry it and I became an instant convert.”
I tap my cupagainst his and then make a motion for us to start walking. “Iswear for the months of September, October, and part of November, Ihave pumpkin spice running through my veins.”
Hechuckles. “Let me guess, for the rest of November and December,it’s hot chocolate? No, wait,pepperminthot chocolate.”
I haven’t eventaken a sip of my latte yet, and warmth spreads through me. “Youknow me so well, Wesley McGrath.” I bump his shoulder with mine. Henudges me back, his body remaining close as we meander down thestreet.
After the thirdtime our hands brush, Wesley wordlessly links his fingers throughmine. We’ve held hands before—Wesley has always been openlyaffectionate, which was a blessing and a curse after I developedfeelings for him—but it feels different now somehow. The warmththat spread through me a few minutes ago turns to heat that couldmelt me into a puddle right here on the sidewalk.
We mosy on,neither of us saying anything. We’re approaching the conveniencestore and I’m about to ask Wesley if he remembers the summer wedrank so many banana slushies the clerk told us we were going toturn yellow, when Bea comes zipping around the corner. She’sdressed in her diner uniform, checkered apron and all, and shecomes to an abrupt halt when she sees us. The smile spreadingacross her face turns positively gleeful as her gaze falls to ourjoined hands.
“Well,I’ll be damned,” she says, shaking her head. “Horatio owes me tenbucks. Iknewyoutwo would get here eventually. ‘Really good friends’ my behind!”Before Wesley or I can utter a word, Bea swoops in and throws herarms around both of us in a brief, bone-crushing hug. She placesnoisy kisses on both of our cheeks, then backs up, shaking her headonce more. “I gotta run, but you two better come into the dinersoon and give me all the details.” She claps her hands and makes anexcited squealing noise as she scurries away, disappearing asquickly as she appeared.
My hand goes limpin Wesley’s. He gently eases his fingers from mine. I’m afraid tolook at him for two reasons: my cheeks are on fire and, sinceWesley knows me better than almost anyone, I’m certain he’ll seeall my thoughts and feelings spelled out across my face.
Just as thesilence becomes almost unbearable, Wesley says, “Well. Thatwas…I…”
“Yeah.That about sums up my thoughts too.”
Wesley makes asoft snorting sound that finally draws my gaze to his. He’slaughing quietly, shoulders shaking. When he lets out anotherlittle snort, my embarrassment eases, and I can’t help gigglingalong with him.
He rests his handon the small of my back and applies light pressure until I startwalking again. “I never told you this because I didn’t want to makethings weird between us, but when we were teens, Bea was alwaysasking me when you and I were going to get together.”
“You’rekidding!” My high-pitched tone makes Wesley laugh again. “What didyou tell her?”
“Samething I told her the other night: that we were just really goodfriends.” His tone is casual. Almosttoocasual. He takes a sip of hisdrink before adding, “And I told her you didn’t see me thatway.”
“Youdidn’t seemethat way either,” I say, instantlyhorrified by the defensiveness in my voice.
Wesley slows hisstride and angles his head to lock eyes with me. I wait for him tolaugh it off or say of course he didn’t, but he doesn’t sayanything. In fact, he just makes a non-committal sound and looksforward again.
“WesleyJames McGrath,” I say in my sternest voice.
He gives anexaggerated wince. “Oof, you full-named me.”
“Well,you can’t just say something like that and then suddenly dropit.”
He smirks as helifts his cup to his lips again. “I just did.”
“Um,hi, have you met me? When have I ever let you drop a conversationwithout giving me all the details?” As the words come out, it hitsme that I’ve done exactly that more than once since Wesley returnedhome, but there’s no turning back now.
