Chapter Twenty-Eight
I changed clothes seven times before deciding on a velour wrap dress in the perfect shade of apricot and taupe ankle boots that matched my purse. How was I supposed to choose an outfit that said I cared enough to skip the jeans and sneakers but also understood this meeting was extremely casual? The unkillable romantic in me insisted on something pretty because there was always a chance this would be the story we told our grandkids.
So, I had to be prepared.
I made a special trip up the driveway to text Cecily a selfie.
Me: Outfit check
She responded with three little flame-shaped emoji. Then a trio of dots began to bounce, letting me know she wasn’t finished.
Cecily: Hottie with a body
Cecily: Go meet your soul mate, then tell me everything
Cecily: Send pics! Take pepper spray
“Okay, weirdo,” I said while responding with a thumbs-up emoji.
I debated my next move for an extended moment, then sent the same image to Annie.
Me: Blind date. Thoughts on the look?
Annie consistently had opinions on everything, especially fashion.
I was disappointed when she didn’t respond. After a few minutes of waiting, I made my way back to the manor and awaited Davis’s arrival.
I hurried to the foyer when the doorbell rang. I checked my face in the mirror near the door and touched a hand to my upswept curls. I’d added a stroke of eye shimmer on my lids in a shade close to my skin tone and glossed my lips to a shine. Mascara darkened and lengthened my lashes, and a touch of powder finished the natural but elevated look. It was the best I could do without it looking like I’d tried too hard. And it was the most I could do with the tremor of nerves buzzing through my hands.
“Here we go,” I told myself, before pulling open the door.
Davis waited outside in a black suit with shiny leather shoes and a belt. His button-down shirt nearly matched the color of his eyes. He looked impossibly taller in his fancy business wear, and my skin thrummed with the need to touch him.
“I’m meeting with my dad and an investor for dinner later,” he said. “They ambushed me, and I can’t get out of it, but I won’t need to leave you for about an hour. You should know by then if you’re feeling safe. If not, give me a sign, and I’ll bring you straight home.”
Appreciation welled in me, and I was torn once again between my feelings for the man before me, and a man whose identity I didn’t even know. Forever Yours had left one more letter today, giving me a free pass to not show tonight. No hard feelings. Complete understanding. Then he’d included snippets of letters he’d found and loved. Pieces he hoped might make me smile.
From Napoleon to Joséphine:
When, free from every worry, from all business, shall I spend all my moments by your side, to have nothing to do but to love you, and to prove it to you?
And my favorite of all ...
That I did always love
I bring thee Proof
That till I loved
I never lived—Enough—
That I shall love alway—
I argue thee
That love is life—
And life hath Immortality—
This—dost thou doubt—Sweet—
Then have I
Nothing to show
But Calvary—
—Emily Dickinson
If Forever Yours was half as sincere and genuine in person as he was on the page, I’d be out of my head not to pursue something with him. It would be ridiculous, I assured myself, to avoid a real connection with a man who cared for me, in favor of pining for a relationship with someone that was never meant to be.
I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders. “Let’s go.”
We arrived at our destination a few minutes later, and Davis parked at the end of the block. I nearly shook with adrenaline.
“I love downtown at night,” Davis said, peering through the windshield at the street outside.
Strings of bistro lights crisscrossed the sky above the street, hung from lamppost to lamppost all down the block. Twinkle lights illuminated the awnings and windows of shops and cafés. People walked hand in hand, pushing strollers, or leaning against one another in shared laughter, everywhere I looked.
My door opened, and Davis stood outside, offering his arm. I curved my fingers gently around his bicep, and we moved toward the café.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said, setting a warm hand over mine where it rested on his sleeve. “I think you’re going to have an incredible night.”
I tried to absorb his enthusiasm but couldn’t quite manage. I swallowed my pride and met his eyes. “Question.”
“Shoot.”
I inhaled slowly, steeling my nerve to say something I really shouldn’t. “What if the man who shows up tonight isn’t the one I want?”
Davis’s jaw locked, and his frown deepened. “What does that mean?”
I shrugged.
“Who do you want it to be, Emma?”
The raw timbre of his voice sent gooseflesh over my skin, and I willed myself to speak the name on my tongue. To clear the air. To be brave when it counted. Even if it meant ruining my quest, our friendship. Everything.
The gentle purr of an expensive car drew our eyes to the road, breaking the intensity of our connection. Davis’s dad climbed out of his Mercedes and raised an arm. “There you are, Junior. I thought we’d find you at that pub for sure.” He buttoned his suit jacket and turned to smile at a gentleman emerging from the passenger side. “Davis, this is Avery Lindor, the investor I told you about. We had to move the meeting up by an hour. You don’t mind, do you? Avery, this is my son.”
I looked to Davis, who seemed equally shocked by the turn of events.
And I felt the last thread of hope I didn’t realize I’d been holding on to slip away.
He straightened, and a wall fell between us. His baffled and somewhat murderous expression schooled into something fake and cold. “Excuse me,” he whispered, tipping his head toward the door to indicate I should go inside. Then he moved quickly down the walkway to meet the men.
I willed my legs to move and pushed thoughts of my confession from my mind. Tonight, I would meet my letter-writing friend, and we’d have a cup of coffee. Then, I’d head home to kick my own ass for trying to confess my feelings to Davis without any sort of plan.
The bell above the door jingled as I entered the café, drawing a few sets of eyes. I didn’t recognize any of the faces, and no one seemed particularly interested in me. I chose a table near the window, where I could watch Davis speak to his father and the other man. I also had a good view of everyone entering the café.
I set my phone on the table to watch the time, then gave the shop’s interior an appreciative exam. The space was warmly lit with exposed brick walls and patterned tile flooring. A white service counter protruded from the back wall, where it disappeared into the kitchen, and a series of large chalkboards detailed the menu options.
A young woman with a pink apron and logoed shirt approached a moment later. Her white-blond ponytail bounced behind her in a corkscrew. “Hi,” she said brightly. “What can I get you?”
I returned her smile. “I think I’ll have—”
The café door opened, and Davis moved inside, followed by his dad and the other man. Davis’s eyes found mine immediately, and the apologetic expression on his face said it all. He couldn’t sit with me while I waited, but he also wouldn’t leave.
I offered him a thumbs-up and my most believable grin.
The men chose a table next to the wall with exposed brick. Davis took a seat facing me and dipped his chin stiffly in acknowledgment when he noticed me staring.
“Do you need a minute?” the young woman asked.
“Sorry. No.” I flipped my attention back to her. “I saw a friend and got distracted. I’ll take a chai-tea latte and a pumpkin spice scone, please.”
“Sounds good.” She turned and hustled away on white sneakers. “Be right back!”
I admired her confident enthusiasm. I, on the other hand, was struggling to feel anything other than anxiety about who would show up and what I would say. About how the conversation would go, and if this moment might actually end a friendship instead of solidifying one.
I fretted over the way I’d wondered if this could be a story to tell our grandkids. Why were some desires so difficult to let go, or even modify? And why was the first man to hold my heart in a real and wonderful way someone unwilling to tell me if he felt the same? The chemistry between us was undeniable, and the comfort I felt in our small silent moments was divine. He’d hinted at his feelings and gone out of his way repeatedly to spend time with me, go on adventures with me, and listen. And I’d told him my mission to give up on love was over. Even that hadn’t motivated him to make a move or speak his heart. So if he truly cared for me, I guessed it just wasn’t enough.
I checked the time on my phone when my drink and scone arrived, and I told myself it was easy for anyone to be a few minutes late. I checked again when I finished my tea and the scone was nothing but crumbs on my little plate. After forty minutes had passed, I walked to the bathroom, fighting the sting of rejection.
I’d been stood up.
Long-buried memories of being skipped over and left out crept through me as I washed my hands. And the fear of being unwanted attacked brutally as I checked my hair in the mirror.
I tried a few silent affirmations in combat, but the negative thoughts were far too strong.
Tears welled in my eyes, unbidden. Then Cecily’s sweet words returned to mind, and I replayed them on a loop until I felt strong again. You are worthy, Emma Rini. You are loved. And you are worthy of love. Just. As. You. Are.
Whatever happened to my admirer tonight had nothing to do with me. I’d put myself out there, and it hadn’t gone as planned. That was all. I was just fine. And this feeling of abandonment had nothing to do with Davis. Nothing at all.
I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, and left my old, unwanted thoughts in the restroom behind me.
I was calling an Uber and going home.
I found Davis leaning against the wall outside the restroom, hands deep in his pockets, sympathy on his brow.
Emotion stung my eyes and nose once more. “What are you doing?”
“Checking on you.”
“Well, I’m heading out,” I said. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
He levered himself away from the wall before I could pass. “I’ll drive you.”
“What about your meeting?”
Davis waited for me to meet his eyes. “My dad and his cohorts are determined to trade every ounce of history in this town for the almighty dollar. I’ve said everything I can possibly say to stop them, but they weren’t swayed. The whole meeting was a ridiculous waste of time.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I never should’ve left you. I told them goodbye the minute I saw your face when you walked past. I should’ve told them goodbye the moment they showed up.”
Emotions returned in full force, and I nodded so he wouldn’t hear my voice crack.
Then I left the café on his arm.