Chapter 29
“Why do I feel like a fish in an aquarium?” Julien leans in and asks over his plate of chicken parmesan. There’s a hint of a smile on his mouth, and I’m glad the undue attention amuses rather than irritates him.
I dab at my lips with my napkin and glance around the restaurant, although it’s more for show than anything.
I haven’t missed the way my neighbors have been whispering behind their menus and trying to steal glances at our table.
Am I surprised? Only at myself for not anticipating this kind of behavior.
Catching the eye of Sheriff Jacobs, who’s openly staring in our direction, I lift my hand and wiggle my fingers. He dips his chin in acknowledgment at getting caught but doesn’t bother looking elsewhere.
Julien turns to glance over his shoulder at whoever stole my attention. When he rotates back around, his brows are high on his forehead. “That police officer just patted his sidearm.”
I laugh because my town is being ridiculous, and yet I absolutely love them for it too. “Welcome to small-town life.”
“Where everyone knows everyone else’s business?”
I nod. “And likely no one can remember when the last time I went out on a date was, so this right here is some really juicy gossip.”
“I still can’t believe that. I don’t want to disparage the men of Little Creek, but—” He stops himself with a shake of the head. “You know what? Their loss is my gain.”
“Thank you for saying so.”
“It’s the truth.”
Heat is rising to my cheeks, so I take a sip of water. When I lift my eyes, my gaze lands on another couple seated in one of the corner booths. A small gasp escapes my lips.
“What?” Julien twists back around again to try and see whatever caused my reaction. “What is it?”
“The Tasty Tortellini is the hotbed for all the news tonight.” My smile grows as I watch the couple sharing a bench seat with their heads together. “I’m surprised we’re garnering this much attention when we aren’t the only people of interest here right now.”
Julien leans in, his eyes bright. “Who else is here? And why do I feel so invested when I don’t know any of these people?”
That makes me laugh as a comfortable warmth spreads inside me.
To look at him, one would think Julien belonged in a high-rise penthouse with ultra-modern styling.
Sleek lines and amenities with a city skyline view.
But seeing him here, I can picture him grabbing a latte from Cotton-Eyed Cup of Joe in the morning to take along on his commute into the city, a King-published audiobook playing through his car speakers.
On the weekends we could take a couple of the horses out for a trail ride, or hike to one of the nearby waterfalls, or even just cuddle up under a warm blanket, relaxing and doing nothing at all but practicing a better work-life balance.
I smile at the mental picture, refusing to acknowledge that if I’m not a Little Creek librarian, then there isn’t a job tying me to the town. I force myself to grin at Julien, who’s looking at me expectantly, ready to immerse himself into some small-town gossip.
“You see that couple cozying up to each other in the booth in the back?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that’s our resident chainsaw sculptor and his fiancée.
She’s been gone for a while now doing work as an international travel nurse.
No one knew when she was coming home, so the fact she’s back is a big deal.
Honestly, I’m kind of surprised there hasn’t been a ticker-tape parade in her honor. ”
“Is that a common occurrence here in Little Creek? Throwing small pieces of paper in the air in celebration?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised at some of the things we can come up with.”
“Like what? Give me an example.”
Which quirky tidbit to choose? “Hayley’s trying to convince Evangeline to put her cat on the ballot for mayor next year. Apparently, there’s a precedent, as there’s already been a golden retriever as mayor in another town before.”
Julien laughs. “You think the cat would win?”
“By a landslide.”
He takes a bite of his dinner, and I do the same.
The conversation has been flowing ever since he picked me up, and we’ve kind of neglected the food in front of us.
I’m relieved. A small part of me was afraid that without the subject of work—which I definitely did not want to talk about today—we wouldn’t have anything to connect us. Thankfully, that isn’t the case.
I am curious as to whatever happened at his office today, but I’m happier knowing that we’re more than just our jobs. That an us can exist outside of what we do for a living. Especially since what I do is very much up in the air right now.
“So, this doesn’t bother you?” I ask with a general motion of my hand, encompassing all the staring eyes.
“This?” He waves to someone behind me, and I turn to see Mimi from the bakery duck behind her menu.
“This is nothing. I’ve had people scrutinizing my every move since I can remember.
” His gaze flits back to Sheriff Jacobs.
“Although I will say it’s the first time anyone has done so with their hand on a weapon. ”
“He has three young daughters. I think he’s just practicing intimidating males on dates.” I take another bite of my fettuccine. “Why did you feel scrutinized growing up?”
“I’m the only child of a family dynasty. In a very small way, to a select group of people, it was a bit like being a royal heir apparent. Everything I did was picked apart and weighed. Would I grow up to be someone who could take on the mantle, or would the buck stop with me?”
“So it hasn’t been just your father that you’ve been trying to prove yourself to.”
“He’s the head of the company, and he leads in such a way that whatever he says must be absolute truth. I always knew that if I could win his approval then the board and the rest of the employees would give it as well.”
“That must have been hard, growing up like that.”
“I don’t want to give a bad impression of my dad or my childhood. Sure, there were things that were difficult, but I also know I had it really easy compared to others. And Dad can be exacting and singularly focused, but he’s also a really good man.”
My experience with John King has been colored by my own personal disappointment.
If I let go of the hurt, though, I can admit that he’s more faceted than just a tactless publishing house president.
He’s been a good employer to my parents, giving them generous holiday bonuses and even helping with some medical bills that were incurred when Dad was hospitalized with pneumonia a few years ago.
I also know that he’s a loving husband. He may work too much, but he adores his wife.
I used to watch him dance with Mrs. King in their living room when I was a little girl.
No one else was around. Just the two of them, staring into each other’s eyes with the most loving smiles on their faces.
“I know he’s a good man, Julien,” I say, acknowledging it’s true even though I can still feel the phantom pain of that day.
It might always be there, like a little thorn in my side.
The voice of my own self-doubt verbalized in my ear.
But I still know that John King is a good man and a good father.
Even if he fails at times, like not cushioning his rejection in kindness with me or with making Julien feel like he has to keep proving himself.
I think he tries, and effort is all anyone can really ask for.
“Are you guys still doing okay?” the server surprises me by asking. I hadn’t even noticed her walk up to the table. “Can I get you any dessert this evening?”
Julien looks at me with a question in his eye.
“I should have saved room, but I can’t eat another bite.”
Julien turns his attention back to the server. “Can we get a tiramisu to go, with a couple of take-out forks?”
“No problem.” She smiles and heads back to the kitchen.
“If you’re interested, I thought we could drive up the mountain and do some stargazing. I have a telescope in my car, but I warn you, I’m not that experienced at using it.”
“Sounds like fun.”
The server comes back with the dessert, Julien pays for the meal, and we both wave good-bye to everyone in the restaurant.
When we step outside, I look up at the sky. “I’m not sure we’re going to be able to see very many stars tonight.” Thick clouds hang overhead, blocking any view of a diamond-studded sky. “Care for a stroll around town instead?” I’m not ready for the night to end.
Julien takes my hand and threads our fingers together, setting off at a meandering speed along the sidewalk. It’s nice, holding hands.
I’m not like Evangeline. I haven’t been looking for love around every corner.
I haven’t felt like something was missing or I wasn’t whole simply because I didn’t have a man in my life.
While I believe in love and marriage and have wanted both, my life hasn’t been on hold, waiting to start until the time when I could share it with one specific person.
Instead, I like to think I’ve been sharing it with everyone around me.
That I’ve found fulfillment in myself, and because of that, I have more now to give because of my own contentment.
It’s nice, though. This connection that is unlike any of the others.
Not just the physical, my hand in his. But the one that seems to be growing between our hearts, braided together like the bracelet I gave him all those years ago.
Each strand a different part of us—shared history, common interests, communication, understanding, openness, and vulnerability—all weaving and twining together, binding us to the other a little more with the passing of time.
We walk along the sidewalk in silence, simply enjoying the other’s company and the evening as a whole.
We pass the little shops along Main Street—a boutique clothing store, Mr. Lawrence’s hardware store, and an ice cream parlor famous for their fresh, homemade waffle cones.
The park is just past the downtown strip of businesses, a beautiful greenspace that the town uses for community events such as Easter egg hunts and summer outdoor concerts.
There’s a white gazebo in the middle of the lawn, and Julien follows the path to the outdoor structure.
Benches line the inside of the gazebo, and Julien tugs me down beside him on one of them.
He releases my hand, then lifts his arm and settles it around my shoulder, nudging me close to his side.
“I’ve been thinking about our time together, especially our time in Florida,” he says, his breath warm as it flutters against the side of my face.
I let my head rest against his shoulder, snuggling close. “Oh?”
He pulls me closer, tighter. Wouldn’t it be heavenly to stay just like this, always?
“Yes, and I’ve reached a conclusion.”
Even through the layers of his clothes, I can feel his heartbeat under my palm. The steady thump is soothing, and yet I can feel my own pulse picking up speed. “And what conclusion is that?”
He hooks a finger under my chin and tilts my face up to look into my eyes. His gaze on me is like a caress. He doesn’t rush as his eyes sweep over me, as if he’s memorizing me in this moment so he can tuck the image away and have it to pull out and inspect any time he wants.
His eyes come back to land softly on mine. “I like having you as a partner,” he states simply.
A partner. For some reason the simple phrase brings back what he’d said earlier, about how dating at our age is different than if we were younger.
And it’s true. At twenty, I might not have appreciated how significant someone saying they like having me as a partner is.
On the surface, it isn’t perhaps the most romantic of confessions.
But we’ve both done life alone up until this point, and so we know what it truly means to appreciate having someone walk alongside of you, take part in both your burdens and your joys, be your equal, and choose to share all of that with one other person.
With you.
My heart swells in my chest. “I like having you as a partner too, Julien.”
His gaze sweeps my face again, pausing on my lips.
My breath hitches, anticipation thrumming through my veins.
Like so many times before, I know what he’s thinking, what he’s asking, without him having to utter a single word.
We share a mind—or maybe it’s a heart?—because every part of me is saying the exact same thing as his: Kiss me.
We meet in the middle, both of us reaching out for the other. Equal partners, as he’d said. His warm lips press against mine just as I press mine against his. When we tell this story to others, there will be no “he kissed me” or “I kissed him.” We truly kissed each other.
His hand moves from under my chin to cradle the side of my face.
I get a strong sense of déjà vu, which can’t be right because I know for a fact I’ve never kissed Julien King before in my life.
And yet, this kiss feels familiar. It’s like your favorite oversized T-shirt that you put on after a long, hard day.
Or the song you listen to on repeat whenever you need a pick-me-up.
It’s like coming home, only home is a person and not a place.
Julien cups the other side of my face, angling my head how he wants me.
His mouth becomes more persistent, the sweetness of a moment before now followed with a hint of spice, not unlike my favorite Mexican hot chocolate.
Any doubts I maybe have harbored about the truth of his attraction toward me are quite literally kissed away as he slowly loses his grip on the self-control he must have been double-fisting all this time.
As if coming back to himself, he gentles the kiss once more before resting his forehead on mine. We’re both breathing a little raggedly, and it strikes me that maybe we’re more capable of acting a bit carefree and reckless than I originally gave us credit for.