I nod along, butmy thoughts are traveling to the past once more. For a long time,Wesley was as much my best friend as Stella, Hollie, and Louisawere. As far as Mom knew, I only ever saw him as a close friend. Abrother-type figure. What she doesn’t know—what few people knew—isthat I eventually developed a crush on Wesley. That crush deepenedinto full-blown love as we got older, and I continued to pine forhim even after he moved away and we grew apart. If I’m beingcompletely honest, in some secret, long-buried part of my heart, Istill love him.
Mom takes my emptyglass from my limp fingers and sets it on the table beside my bed.“Now, let’s see if there are any wearable dresses among this lot orif Katrina will be getting a piece of my mind!”
CHAPTER THREE
Luckilyfor Katrina, option number four—a forest green cocktail dress witha sweetheart neckline and lace cap sleeves—is the one. And luckilyforme, I haveshoes at home that will go with it so I don’t have to go throughthis whole process again with footwear.
After threeglasses of prosecco—and the shock of finding out about our newThanksgiving plans and the fact Wesley will be attending mybirthday party—I stuck around my parents’ place for a few hours.Mom offered to bail on her meeting, but I told her to go ahead. Iwas happy for an excuse to watch a movie in the ‘media room’, withits reclining chairs and obscenely large TV.
Themovie?The PrincessBride, of course, although I only half paidattention while my brain replayed scenes from my childhood. I alsotook the opportunity to text my friends and invite them toThanksgiving dinner at Hathaway Manor on Monday…and asked Hollie topass the invitation along to Fergus MacKinnon.
Now I’m backdowntown, this time with the intention of picking up a treat ofsome sort for Stella after her difficult morning. Sunset is in lessthan an hour and, between the golden hour light and the fieryleaves of the trees lining the streets, everything is cast in abeautiful, burnished glow. Leafy garlands, hay bales, pumpkins, anda variety of Halloween decorations adorn the windows andstorefronts all along the street. Even though it’s been like thissince late September and I’ve seen it countless times, there’ssomething about the quality of light that makes me stop and whipout my phone to snap some pictures.
When I take a fewsteps back to get more of the decor in the shot, my shoulder knocksagainst something solid. The force of it sends me spinning aroundto face a man my age. An apology dies on my lips when my gaze meetsa pair of sparkling blue eyes that are as familiar to me as my ownreflection.
“Wesley.”
His hands dart outto grip my shoulders in an effort to steady me. For one bizarresecond, I wonder if I fell asleep in my parents’ media room and I’mdreaming. No dream has ever been this good, though: Wesley McGrathstanding in front of me, his hands gripping my shoulders as hesmiles that familiar heartstopping smile of his.
“Hey,Buttercup.”
The next thing Iknow, he’s wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close. Mysenses go haywire as they absorb the warmth of his body and thescent of his skin. It’s both shocking and comforting to discover hestill wears the same cologne he has since we were teens; I neverknew what it was, but the warm, citrusy scent of it always made mewant to bury my face in his neck and breathe him in. I resist theurge to do exactly that as I return his embrace, gripping the backof his leather jacket as if it’s a lifeline.
When Wesleyreleases me, we simply stand and stare at each other. He’s wearingan almost goofy grin; if the ache in my cheeks is any indication,the expression is mirrored on my own face. A torrent of questionsrushes through my mind, but he speaks before I can voice a singleone.
“Do youwant to go for…” He glances at his watch and wrinkles his nose. “Iwas going to say coffee, but I’ve reached thedelightfulstage in life where Ican’t have caffeine past three if I want to sleep that night. Mymom warned me it would happen someday, but I didn’t think it wouldbequitethissoon.”
“I betthat was a real blow for a coffee lover like you.”
“Itwas. It really was.” He bobs his head with mock solemnity. “Now Ihave to cram all my caffeine consumption into the earlier part ofthe day.” He imitates raising a cup to this mouth, his hand shakingwildly. “The caffeine high comes in handy on nights when I’m DJing,though.”
“You’restill doing that?”
His lips curve atthe high pitch of my voice. Even after all this time apart, I bethe knows me well enough to detect the mixture of surprise,excitement, and curiosity. “Looks like we have a lot to catch upon, Buttercup. It’s a bit early for cocktails, so how about tea? Orhot chocolate?”
“Inever turn down hot chocolate.”
His small smilegrows, causing the dimple in his left cheek to wink to life. I wasalready feeling a bit shaky from simply seeing Wesley sounexpectedly, but that smile. That dimple. Heaven helpme.
“Do youand the girls still hang out at the diner?” he asks.
“Allthe time. We were there for breakfast this morning, infact.”
“Niceto know some things never change.” Between his tone and the twinklein his eyes, I’m certain his words hold a double meaning, althoughI can’t figure out what it might be.
Before I can giveit much thought, Wesley holds out one arm with his elbow bent. Ittakes me a minute to catch on, and then I slowly slide my armthrough his. He pulls me closer, and I give in to the urge tosnuggle against him, clutching his arm to my side, and resting mycheek on his shoulder.
“Youhave no idea how happy I am to see you, Evie,” he says softly, hisbreath ghosting over my face.
If he keeps thisup, he’ll have to scrape me off the sidewalk.
*****
“DoesStella know you’re home? When did you get into town? How long areyou here for?”
Wesley shakes hishead, chuckling softly at my rapid-fire questions. To be fair, atleast I waited until we were seated at a booth inside B&H Dinerbefore I let the questions fly. By some miracle, we managed to getone of the best and most private booths in the place. Neither of usconsidered the fact it’s dinnertime for many people, and the dineris bustling with couples and families enjoying their eveningmeal.
Bea comes intoview, balancing a trio of plates in her hands. She sets them at anearby table and chats with the people for a minute beforestraightening and glancing around. Her eyes brighten when she seesme, and she strides toward our table while pulling her order padand pen from her apron.
