Chapter 12 #3
When room service arrived with their appetizers, they moved to the dining area. Andrea topped off their wine while Wes arranged the plates. The food was elegant and well-balanced, nothing too rich or heavy.
“This is what I’ve been missing,” Andrea said, closing her eyes as she savored the perfectly prepared scallop appetizer.
“The food?”
“Well, the food is amazing, yes. But, I more so meant this—” She met his gaze across the table.
“Taking time to actually enjoy something instead of rushing through it.” She gestured toward the window where snow was beginning to fall more heavily.
“When was the last time you sat somewhere like this and just… existed?”
Wes considered the question as he pinned his scallop with his fork and cut it in half. “Honestly? I can’t remember. Between work and Emma and making sure everything runs smoothly…” He trailed off. “I guess I forgot there was anything else.”
“What did you used to love? Before all the responsibility?”
A slow smile crossed his face. “I used to go camping. Every chance I got. There’s something about being out there with just the basics—a tent, a sleeping bag, maybe a book.
No deadlines, no phone calls.” His expression grew distant.
“I guess it’s like you and concerts. Somewhere along the way it just started to feel out of reach, you know? ”
Andrea watched the play of emotions across his face—love, loss, and something that might have been hope. “I’ll bet Emma would love to go.”
Wes’s lips twitched into a smile. “She probably would. She loves just about everything. At least long enough to try it. What about you? Seems to me you need to buy some tickets to a concert.”
Andrea laughed and nodded. “Touché. You’re probably right.
Hey, we could look up some festivals. You could scratch your sleeping-in-a-tent itch, and I could get to see some of my favorite bands.
Although, for the record, I’m too old for inflatable mattresses and sleeping bags, so I’ll be checked into the nearest hotel or Airbnb. ”
“You’d leave me out in the cold, all alone?” Wes clutched a hand to his chest in mock heartbreak.
Andrea laughed and carved off a small bite from the braised oxtail tartlet. “You’d have Emma. Remember?”
Wes stilled at that, his smile shifting into something else. Something … wistful.
Andrea’s cheeks warmed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that—I didn’t mean to insert myself like that.”
“No.” He took her hand. “No, please, I’m not bothered.
I just—I haven’t thought about bringing someone around Emma before, but with you—it’s different.
Somehow.” He swallowed hard, then cleared his throat.
“I’d like that. Very much. Though, she’d probably abandon me for the Airbnb, too, especially since you’d have Crumpet, indoor plumbing, and better snacks. ”
Andrea laughed, relieved as the moment of uncertainty faded.
“Speaking of, you could come and see her perform with her choir tomorrow night. There’s a winter night market in the square. She’s got a solo she’s all nervous about. I’ll bet she would love another familiar face in the crowd.”
The invitation caught her off guard, but her heart swelled with a fresh wave of happiness. “Really?”
“I mean, they’re not Green Day or anything,” Wes teased, his thumb tracing over her knuckles. “But they’re pretty good.”
“What about Tilda?” Andrea said, her tone a bit cautious. “Does she know about … us? I get the feeling you haven’t dated much since losing your wife.”
One corner of Wes’s lips quirked up in one half of a wistful smile. “Am I that rusty? I thought I was doing pretty good here.” He gestured at the food and the smile bloomed.
Andrea started to backtrack, but Wes laughed and dismissed it as a joke with a wave of his fork.
“No, you’re right,” he said. “I haven’t.
A dinner here, a coffee there. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to find someone.
” His smile faded for a moment as a new flicker of emotion passed over his face.
“As for Tilda, she knows where I am tonight. We don’t keep things from each other.
Not that there would be a reason to, anyway,” he quickly added.
“I don’t think it will ever be easy for her to see me with someone else, as it inevitably leads to thoughts of Sarah, and the way it was.
But ultimately she wants me to be happy, and more than that, she wants Emma to be happy. ”
Andrea nodded slowly, her throat thick. It was hard for her to imagine the depths of the kind of grief Wes and Emma and Tilda had gone through, but she knew that whatever happened next, she would do her best not to cause any of them further pain or heartache.
They fell into easy conversation and skirted away from the heavier topics as they finished their meal and the bottle of wine. They talked about everything and nothing—childhood memories, favorite books, the places they’d traveled and the places they still wanted to see.
When the last of the soufflé crumbs was gone, and all that remained were a few drops of wine, they retired to the sofa and picked up where they’d left off before the meal, quickly tangling together, their lips and bodies exploring territory their words could not.
It was nearing midnight when they called to have someone retrieve the dishes. “I should probably get you back,” Wes said eventually, though his reluctance was obvious. “Crumpet’s probably wondering where you are.”
Andrea’s heart sank slightly at the reminder that this magical evening had to end. “Yeah, probably.”
As they gathered their things, Andrea found herself taking one last look at the beautiful room—the mountain view framed by the windows and the warm glow from the fireplace.
No spells or enchantments had been cast, and yet, it was the most magical night she could recall in recent memory.
The drive back to Maple Crossing was quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Andrea stole glances at Wes’s profile in the dashboard lights, still processing the evening’s revelations and the way her heart had responded when he’d said he wanted everyone to see them together.
When they pulled into her driveway, neither of them moved to get out immediately.
“Thank you,” Andrea said softly. “For tonight. For everything. It was perfect.”
“Even the suite mix-up?”
“Especially the suite mix-up.” She grinned. “Your panicked face was adorable.”
He walked her to the front door, and Andrea found herself reluctant to say goodnight. “I guess Emma will be waiting up for you?”
“Actually, she’s at a sleepover at her friend, Madison’s, house. Won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.”
Andrea felt a rush of heat at the implications. “Well,” she said, looking up at him through her lashes, “I don’t have room service or Egyptian cotton sheets, but the view from the bedroom isn’t half bad.”
Wes’s eyes darkened with surprise and unmistakable desire. “Andrea…”
“Unless you’d rather go home to an empty house,” she said, already reaching for his coat to tug him closer.
“Definitely not,” he said, his voice rough.
Andrea pulled him into the townhouse and shut the door behind them, her heart racing with anticipation and the thrilling certainty that she was exactly where she wanted to be.