Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
“Want to take a walk?”
Cal buttoned his blazer against the cool evening as they stepped out of the restaurant, and he blinked at Austin. They’d just survived a splendidly awkward-as-fuck dinner—as though they hadn’t conversed about everything and anything with ease every day of their lives up until now—and Austin wanted to prolong the evening with a walk?
But Austin looked so hopeful that Cal couldn’t do anything but agree. “Lead the way.”
Austin’s answering smile was sad around the edges, shooting a bolt of regret straight through Cal’s heart. Cal knew that was his fault, but he couldn’t figure out where this evening had gone sideways.
He’d felt stiff and uncomfortable from the beginning, and not only because of the slacks and blazer get-up. He’d opted to leave his cowboy hat at home, which had made him feel as though he were missing a limb. Being picked up by Austin was nothing new, but being picked up by Austin knowing this night was different from any other night they’d ridden somewhere together made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. The restaurant had been both too pricey and too fancy. And Nadia had brought them a cheesecake drizzled in strawberry and chocolate sauces for dessert—“On me,” she’d said with a small smirk—that was shaped like a heart and topped with a sparkler that had drawn the attention of nearby diners. Cal had wished for the floor to swallow him whole.
On top of all that, for the first time in his life, Cal couldn’t figure out what to say to his best friend.
Before Lindsay had entered the picture, before Austin had fallen hard and fast for her, Cal used to imagine what going on a date with Austin would be like.
He’d never imagined this total failure.
Cal’s entire body was heavy with disappointment, and he opened his mouth to tell Austin maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all, when Austin shoved his hands in his pants pockets and said, “Nice night.”
Inane chit-chat. It was what they’d been doing all evening.
“Yeah,” Cal agreed.
“It’s nice that the weather cleared up. I’ve always liked the square at night, with the lights and the stars.”
“You’ve always had a fanciful side.”
“Lies,” Austin said, clutching dramatically at imaginary pearls.
Cal chuckled. And just like that, they were on more even footing.
It only lasted a second before silence descended between them again. Not the comfortable silence that defined quiet moments between them, but a silence thickening with unwanted doubts and tension. Cal could almost feel the frustration wafting off Austin, and the sense that he was letting him down caused an ache in Cal’s gut that made him clench his hands into fists.
For years, Cal had wanted exactly this—something more with Austin. Now that it was here, he was messing it up big time and he didn’t know how to fix it. Cal had always prided himself on knowing the answer—at work or otherwise—but he didn’t have an answer for this mess of a night they found themselves in.
Everything felt... off. From their attire to the restaurant to the strained note in Austin’s voice and even to the way Austin smelled. He usually smelled like soap. This evening he’d obviously spritzed on cologne or aftershave, because he smelled slightly woodsy. Cal didn’t hate it by any means.
It just wasn’t Austin.
At least, it wasn’t the Austin that Cal knew.
And that was the problem. Cal didn’t know this Austin. Had no idea how to navigate taking the leap from friendship to something more, no matter how badly he wanted to try. And it left him feeling stuck. Trapped. As though he were walking next to a stranger.
Letting out a quiet breath, he mimicked Austin’s pose and shoved his own hands in his pockets.
Windsor Town Square wasn’t crowded at this time of night, and evidence of the market hung around in discarded food cartons that hadn’t been picked up by the evening cleaners yet and in mangled twist ties and stretched-out elastic bands that hadn’t made their way into garbage bins. By tomorrow morning, the square would be as pristine as always, but Cal didn’t mind the detritus. It was like peering into the square’s past life.
A few other couples strolled hand in hand, and a couple pushed a stroller, taking their baby on a late-night walk. An older gentleman sat on a bench nearby, a shaggy dog resting at his feet as he wrote in a journal by the light of the old-fashioned lampposts.
“Not often you see someone use a fountain pen,” Austin remarked once they’d passed the gentleman and were far enough away not to be overheard.
“I think your dad is the only person I ever see use them,” Cal said.
“He still uses that one you got him for his birthday that year you lived with us. My mom got him a new one last Christmas, and I don’t think he’s taken it out of the box once.” Austin chuckled, the sound filled with fondness. “He’s loyal to yours, if one can be loyal to a pen.”
Affection for Austin’s parents bubbled in Cal’s chest and expanded his ribcage.
There was another reason this thing with Austin was a bad idea—if he lost Austin because they weren’t ready for this or couldn’t make it work, would Cal lose the MacIsaacs too?
“Speaking of my dad,” Austin went on, sending Cal a sideways grin. “He says he’s going to try a homemade Hollandaise recipe tomorrow so we can have eggs Benedict for breakfast. Wait until you see how much butter he’s bought.”
“Oh, uh...” Cal cleared his throat. “I don’t think I can make it tomorrow.”
He could, as it were, but he didn’t want to. Not if things would be as weird between him and Austin as they were right now. Cal needed space. He needed time. He needed to sit with his thoughts and think. A lot.
“But...” Austin stopped, right there on the path, the smile slipping off his face. “You always join us for brunch on Sund?—”
The fairy lights above them went dark, plunging them into shadow while the rest of the park remained lit. It was like someone had unplugged the string directly above them. Like the universe could tell that this evening had been for shit and had decided to add the fucking cherry on top.
Austin’s shoulders slumped, and he swallowed hard. “You know what? Let’s just go home.”
Cal couldn’t think of a single reason why they shouldn’t.