Chapter 25
Live, Laugh, Lose the Baggage
? Someday, Someone - Kenzie Cait
Angelina
Griffin: Good morning, wife. I took your car for an oil change. My keys are on the counter if you need to go anywhere today. Drive safe. xo
“Oh, come on!” a feminine voice says as she steps inside the coffee shop in downtown Willow Valley. “It’s just a little paint.”
“Fuck no,” a heavily tattooed man replies. “You’ll pick some ugly ass yellow, or worse, pink.”
“Anything is better than the color you chose. The walls are grey, Noah! I can’t thrive under these conditions.”
This is probably the part where I should stop eavesdropping, but I can’t help being nosy. I watch the pair out of the corner of my eye as the heat emanating from my coffee cup warms my fingers. Micah’s standing next to me, waiting for his name to be called.
“It’s too early for this shit,” Noah responds. “I haven’t even had my coffee yet.”
“Are you under the impression that your attitude gets better after you’ve been sufficiently caffeinated? Allow me to disillusion you,” the copper-haired woman says. “You’re just as annoying pre and post-coffee.”
“Back at you, Princess.”
She rolls her eyes and turns her back on him just in time for the line to move forward.
Willow Valley is a quaint town thirty minutes east of Oak Ridge. It boasts a gorgeous cliffside view of the lake, an old-school movie theatre that hosts a vintage romcom marathon every summer, and the best ice cream shop in a hundred-mile radius whose signature flavor is maple bourbon crunch.
Callie works at the local public library, and Micah’s husband, Hudson, has a hobby farm in the north end of the valley.
I could never live here—it’s far too quiet for my taste—but it’s perfect for a homebody like Hudson who prefers spending time in his vegetable garden to interacting with people, and it’s a great place to visit when I need to clear my head.
“Order for Micah,” the barista calls.
He steps forward and claims two cups from the counter, and I follow him out onto the sidewalk as the early October chill seeps through my thin plaid jacket.
Leaves crunch underfoot as we make the short walk over to the gazebo in the center of the town square, where we meet up with Hudson and their two-year-old sable corgi, Delilah.
She’s dressed in a brown cable knit sweater, and her tail is wagging so forcefully her entire body is moving with it.
Hudson’s hand wraps around one cup of coffee as Micah leans in for a kiss. I bend down to scratch Delilah behind her ears just the way she likes it, and she steals a kiss of her own, catching the corner of my mouth in the process.
“Careful, Dee. She’s married, and I don’t think he likes to share.” Micah takes a seat between Hudson’s legs on the steps of the Gazebo. “How is your husband anyway?”
“The hot cowboy who makes amazing sourdough?” Hudson asks.
Micah nods.
I’ve been bringing leftover sourdough to the office to share with my staff, and Micah sometimes takes the leftovers home with him at the end of the day.
I sit opposite them with my back against the railing. “Still hot, still a cowboy.”
Micah’s lips tip into a half smile. “Still completely obsessed with you.”
I bring the coffee cup to my mouth and blow on the hot liquid, but I don’t bother denying the accusation. “I think I’m moving in with him.”
Hudson’s arms wrap around Micah’s shoulders, and my heart melts a little.
They’re so perfect for each other, like two halves of a whole.
Micah is tall and handsome in a Clark Kent wearing glasses kind of way, but softer.
A perfect contrast to Hudson, who’s a few inches shorter, with blonde hair like a 90s heartthrob, and he has the muscles of a man who enjoys manual labor.
Micah’s brow creases. “What do you mean you think you’re moving in with him?”
“He asked, but I haven’t given him my answer.”
Delilah lies beside me with her head on my thigh, nudging my free hand.
I smile and scratch beneath her chin. “Needy little thing.”
“Why are you hesitating?” Micah asks. “You’re practically living together anyway. That man’s been by your side ever since you ended up in the hospital.”
“Before that, actually.”
Micah points one finger at me, still clutching his coffee cup. “Exactly. Want me to help you put up the for sale sign?”
“You don’t think it’s too soon?”
Hudson snorts. “We only dated for a month before Micah started sleeping over, and he never left. It’s been eight years.” He tilts forward to press a kiss against Micah’s forehead. “Not that I’m complaining. Best eight years of my life.”
Micah closes his eyes and leans into his embrace.
I toy with the wedding band encircling my ring finger.
I’ve always wanted what they have—someone to come home to at the end of a long day, the easy affection, the way they just… fit. No matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, Tyler and I never had that. I always felt like an afterthought, a postscript on some half-written love letter.
As if sensing my distress, Micah reaches across the gazebo and squeezes my hand. “Griffin is not Tyler.”
It’s possible that being jilted affected me more than I wanted to admit. I took that heartbreak and shoved it down deep, and that’s where it festered.
On the off chance that this thing between Griffin and me could be exactly what I’m looking for, I think I owe it to myself to try. He’s never given me cause to doubt his intentions, but I’ve let my misgivings get in the way.
Now I’m searching for red flags where there are none and waiting for the day Griffin decides he made a mistake. But Micah’s right. Griffin isn’t Tyler, and I can’t keep using the past and my pregnancy as an excuse to keep him at arm’s length when all I want to do is lean in.
Maybe it’s time to lean in.
After the coffee date, I climb into Griffin’s big black truck and absently set my leftover coffee in the console, only to somehow miss the cup holder completely.
It topples into the passenger seat and pools in the center of the leather upholstery.
Luckily, it was almost empty, so the mess is minimal.
I rifle through the center console, but I don’t find what I need.
I open the glove box next. Instead of the stack of fast-food napkins I expect to find there, something shiny catches my attention.
My hand trembles as I reach for the white gold engagement ring with the solitaire diamond Tyler slid onto my finger almost two years ago.
I hold it up to the light, expecting to feel something, but there isn’t so much as a pang of sadness as I stare at it.
Whatever affection I once held for the man who gave me this ring has faded, leaving behind nothing but a series of bad memories.
I take solace in knowing my heart has moved on, even if some of the damage still lingers.
I find a travel pack of wet wipes in my purse and quickly clean up the mess, then drive down to the cliff and park near the ledge. It’s probably a hot spot for make-out sessions when the sun sets.
Ring in hand, I climb onto the tailgate and stare up at the clouds. “Hey Jess.”
Sunlight catches on the ring as I twist it between my fingers.
Something—or someone—flutters low in my belly, and I run my hand over my bump.
“It’s Tyler’s. You would’ve hated him, I think, but you weren’t here to stop me, so it’s partially your fault I’m even in this mess.
You never should’ve left me to fend for myself.
My judgment can’t be trusted. I told you I wouldn’t fall for a cowboy, and then I broke my rule. Twice.”
That pang I didn’t get earlier hits me full force now—not for him but for Jess. My throat constricts as my eyes begin to sting. “We were supposed to raise our babies together. Best friends, remember?”
I let out a humorless laugh as the wind rustles my hair.
“I guess I tend to hold onto the past when everyone else has already moved on. I can’t do it anymore.
I have to free myself from everything that’s holding me back.
Tyler wants nothing to do with us, but Griffin…
Griffin wants to give us the world. He’s exactly the man you said he was.
I should’ve listened to you all those years ago. ”
I slide the ring onto my finger just above the wedding band Griffin placed there.
The band is nothing fancy, a gold circle with a ring of diamonds, but it’s perfect in its simplicity.
It fits like a glove, like it was always meant for me.
The engagement ring feels all wrong, like a shackle binding me to my old life and the memories that died with it.
What would Jessica Louise Hayes do?
The answer is immediate.
I pull Tyler’s ring off my finger and inhale a fortifying breath, then I draw my hand back and launch it over the cliffside into the rolling tide below. Relief washes over me like the first breath of fresh air after a thunderstorm. Freedom never felt so good.
I feel like I’m floating on a cloud as I drive back to Griffin’s house and park next to my car in the driveway. The door opens before I even make it up the front stairs.
As Griffin steps out onto the porch, I launch myself at him, pushing him back against the siding.
Our mouths collide in a frantic kiss, and he lets out a strangled groan as my fingers tangle in his long hair.
Time passes in a haze as I lose myself in every caress of his hands along my body.
I let my hands wander, too, scraping across his beard and down to his chest.
When we finally come up for air, he sweeps a lock of hair away from my forehead and grins down at me, his eyes full of unmitigated desire. “Christ. What was that for?”
I wrap my arms around him and slide my hands into his back pockets. “I want to move in.”
He pulls me tighter to him and lowers his face to nuzzle against my neck. “Thought you were gonna make me wait forever.”
“I considered it,” I say teasingly.
He presses his lips to my collarbone. “Thank you for putting me out of my misery.”
I take a step back, eyeing the scattered packages littering the porch. There have to be at least thirty boxes, some small, about the size of a pair of shoes, and some much larger. “What is all of this?”
He slides his hands into his pockets. “Did some online shopping.”
“Why do they say Tater Tot on the shipping address?”
He runs his hand down my forearm and threads our fingers together, reverently gliding his thumb along the side of my palm. “Even if you weren’t going to move in with me, I planned to make up the nursery anyway. I promised to take care of you, and I meant it.”
“Griff…”
“It’s all from your wish list, but we can return anything you don’t like if you change your mind.”
I lay our joined hands on my belly. “I won’t change my mind. About this or anything else.”
When I left for Willow Valley this morning, I thought I was going to clear my head. What I found there was so much more than just clarity—it was a way forward—a pathway to the future I’ve been dreaming about my entire adult life. One that involves a cowboy, a ranch, and a tater tot.