But words, he knew, only went so far.
The rest of the evening went by quickly and their conversation turned to easier, simpler matters that didn’t involve fate and luck and the mysteries of life.
They finished their meal and shared the clearing and washing up, during which Travis tried very hard not to think about what it would be like if every evening looked something like this—enjoying a meal with Courtney, pottering around in the kitchen, chatting and laughing.
Being at home, together.
Forever.
When their chores were complete and Courtney said she ought to get home to her cousin’s house and put her feet up for a while, Travis didn’t try to persuade her to stay any longer, knowing that the more time he spent with her, the less he’d be able to resist telling her how he felt about her.
That was an admission that would be so preposterous, sofoolish, he could hardly believe he had to talk himself out of making it.
Better, then, that Courtney left before he opened his stupid mouth and said something he’d regret.
At the front door, Courtney smiled as she stepped outside into the fading April light. “Thanks again for dinner. It’s sweet of you to keep feeding me like this.”
“My pleasure.”
“I’d like to return the favour. Maybe I could make us a little lunchtime picnic to enjoy in the park later this week? If you can take a quick break from your writing, of course.”
Travis knew she’d given him the perfect excuse to say no, to use his writing as a reason why he couldn’t manage time away from his desk. It’s not like it wasn’t true. With the finish line so close for the new book, he was firmly in the zone where he usually turned down any and all offers of socialising that would pull him out of his manuscript during his peak writing hours in the morning and afternoon.
But although he knew he should say no—for many, many reasons—he simply didn’t want to.
“A picnic sounds like fun,” he said.
And was rewarded with another of her bright smiles, her eyes sparkling with delight.
“How about Friday?” Courtney asked.
“Friday works fine.”
She smiled again, and Travis thought,I’m a goner and I’m an idiot and I’m so doomed it isn’t even funny.
“See you soon,” Courtney said, walking towards the garden gate.
“Hey, where are my manners? Let me walk you home.”
“I’m fine,” she laughed, waving a hand to dismiss the idea. “Honestly, there’s no need.”
Travis’s gaze slipped to her baby bump. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I’m out and about all the time, and it’s good for me, and good for the baby, too.”
He thought about this, wanting to press the point but also aware that while pregnancy might be slowing Courtney down a little, it wasn’t an illness. “Text me when you get home.”
Something flickered in her eyes—surprise? amusement? tenderness?—before she nodded. “Okay, I will. Bye, Travis.”
With another wave, she closed the gate behind her and walked off along Foxglove Street. Travis watched her progress until she vanished from sight beyond the neighbouring hedges, and reminded himself she only lived a few minutes further along the street and it was still light, the springtime sun still high above the horizon. It’s not as if he was letting her wander off by herself in the dead of night.
Still, he couldn’t resist going out to the garden gate and peering down the street and watching inconspicuously as Courtney walked down the street. Just before the long road curved away into the distance and he would’ve lost sight of her, she crossed to the other side and pushed through the garden gate of her cousin’s house.
Satisfied, Travis went back inside, feeling foolish but happy to know she was safely back indoors for the evening.
A few minutes later, his phone pinged with a message from Courtney.
Back home, no problem. Thanks again for dinner, it was wonderful. See you on Friday for a picnic in the park.
