Chapter 13
Nerves flutter deep in my belly as the creak of the door brings a soft gust of crisp wind, along with the faintest whistle.
It’s not a date.
The floorboards groan with Arlo’s soft steps, each of them sending a pang straight to my stomach.
It really isn’t a date.
I smell him before I see him, that spicy scent swirling around me with the wind. I inhale him, and it causes a small flutter to rise in my throat.
This feels like a date.
Swallowing thickly, I glance up at the doorway, finding Arlo in his heavy red flannel. The black knit beanie on his head hides his dark hair. His beard is neatly trimmed, no longer hiding the dimple in his smile, and those baby blue eyes find me across the room.
That’s when my eyes land on the brown bag in his hand with tissue paper sticking out of the top.
This is a date.
No matter how many times I told him and told myself. Seeing him standing there with the package in his hands seals the deal, n to mention the picnic basket on the island.
“It’s not what you think,” he grumbles, his footfalls creaking the wood as he walks toward me before falling into the chair across the table. Setting the bag on the floor between us, I wring my hands, not sure how to act.
I really didn’t think this was a date.
“I didn’t get you anything,” I say as I peer at the bag, wishing I had X-ray vision so I’d know what it is and could prepare myself for my reaction. I never know how to react when it comes to gifts, always thinking I will not give the other person the right amount of emotion.
“Like I said, it’s not what you think.” He nudges the bag toward me with a foot. “Go on. Open it up.”
“I’m not sure I should.” My neck cracks as I whip my head up to him, my palms sweating with anxious energy.
“Birdie, it isn’t anything nefarious.”
“I never said it was.”
“Then why do you keep looking at the bag like I packed scorpions in tissue paper, just waiting to pinch you?”
“Did you?” I gasp in mock horror.
“Did I what?”
“Pack scorpions in a paper bag to kill me?” I tsk under my breath. “I knew this town was too good to be true. It’s always the pleasant towns that hide the serial killers.”
He points a finger at me, opening and closing his mouth, unsure just what to say to me. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m completely serious. Have you ever watched crime documentaries?” With complete sincerity, I continue, “Maybe we should stay here in the warmth with hot cocoa and get you all caught up on the horror of small towns.”
“No more crime documentaries for you.”
“How dare you try to steal my freedom?”
“Birdie.” Giving up, he reaches into the back and pulls out a…
“Arlo.” I gasp, grabbing the black coat from his hands. I can feel the down feathers inside, and it has faux fur in the hood. It’s heavy and warms my hands just by holding it.
“I got these too.” He tosses matching gloves on the table as I clutch the coat to my chest, my eyes feeling all misty.
Never in all my life have I ever received such a well thought out gift.
Sure, I’ve gotten gifts before from my brother, but they were always weird ones.
Like cinnamon potpourri, when he knows I hate the smell of it.
Or red wine when I prefer white. Sure, it’s nitpicky little things like that, but this…
This was a well thought out purchase.
“I didn’t want you to get cold.” He glances out the window, avoiding my stare, choosing instead to watch as his mom and Lark wander the graveyard.
“I love it.” And I do. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t truly mean it. Popping up, I slide my arms in, almost moaning at the feel of the down feathers. I freeze, my eyes going wide. “Arlo, this must have cost—”
“Stop.” He stands, tugging on the zipper and sliding it up before yanking off the tag and tossing it on the table. Still not meeting my eyes, he grabs the basket and heads to the front, throwing it over his shoulder. “We should avoid my mother.”
I grab my gloves and pull them on as I hurry after him, my heavy boots already on my feet. I stay quiet as the cold slaps me in the face as he leads me to a trail through the wooded area on the side of the house.
“Why?” I can’t hold in the need to know what he’s thinking and why this stranger would do so much for me when no one in my life has ever done that much.
“Why are we avoiding my mother? Because she is almost as bad as my sisters, and I’d like to avoid them at all costs,” he grumbles, stomping through the forest loud enough to make all the animals scurry.
“You know that isn’t what I want to know.” I grab his flannel, making him pause in the thick of the woods. The only witnesses to our conversation are the fauna and flora.
“I don’t have an answer for you.” He pauses, peering at me under his thick lashes. My fingers curl in his flannel, tugging him closer.
I didn’t intend to drag him to me, and I didn’t intend to make him face me.
But as the mint of his breath wafts over my skin, my eyes drop to his lips and I struggle to focus on what I asked him.
He’s so close. Close enough to kiss.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” I tease, though the words come out strained. Birds chirp overhead, and in the distance, an owl hoots.
“Can’t leave it alone, can you?” But there’s no more heat to his words.
Well, not that kind of heat. Now his tone is filled with something else, something I haven’t allowed myself to feel in far too long.
With shaking fingers, he brushes a rogue curl from my face.
“I don’t know, Birdie. That’s why I don’t have an answer for you.
I feel this pull toward you when I look at you, as though fate bundled you up and threw you in my path. ”
“In the middle of the road?” I sigh the words, my voice straining and my stomach full of fluttering creatures with wings.
“I was so angry at you for being so foolish, even before I got out of the truck.” His brows wrinkle, forming deep lines in his forehead. “Then there you were, this beautiful freckled angel holding a skunk.”
I lick my lips, a shiver working its way down my spine. “The moose.”
He inches closer. “I wasn’t anticipating for you to fall into my life, Birdie.”
“Yet here we are.” It’s the stupidest line I’ve ever uttered, but Arlo doesn’t bat an eyelash.
“Come on.” He steps back, breaking the spell and still not giving me a complete answer. He grabs my hand, leading me through the woods and toward a structure I can just make out through the thinning trees.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Yep.” He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t appear as though I shouldn’t ask him anything. In fact, he gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“You and Bridget?” I don’t want to lose his interest, so I rush forward. “It’s just that she still loves you, and I don’t want to get in between you two.”
Arlo pauses, causing me to slam into his back and bounce off. Luckily, he grabs me before I can fall backwards.
Really, how many times am I going to fall in front of this man? I might be falling for him, but I really don’t need to be literal about it.
“Did she say that?”
“Well, not in so many words, but I could tell. She still loves you, Arlo, and I’m not the type of girl to get in between something like that.” Not that I should get involved at all, because I have no plans on staying.
I step out of his arms, instantly missing his warmth, but I don’t backtrack on what I said.
His sigh echoes through the forest. “Come on, let’s talk.”
I dislike the sound of that, but I follow him through the trees and a little chapel comes into view. Okay, not little, but breathtaking.
Here, sitting in the middle of nowhere, is a masterpiece of fantasy’s own creation. I pause on a stepping-stone and cover my mouth with my hand as I try to process the beauty before me.
The A-frame building reaches into the sky, with stained glass windows on the front. Though it’s as simple as that, ivy creeps up the sides, giving it an ethereal feeling, while leaves flutter to the ground in varying shades of reds and oranges.
Though beautiful, it’s slowly deteriorating, but even time’s cruelty doesn’t hinder the magic that wafts off the building.
“Come on.” Once more, Arlo grabs my hand, tugging me toward the chapel as he pauses before the stained glass doors with keys in his hand. The basket rocks as he sets it on the ground. “I love Bloom.”
My stomach plummets, but I nod, waiting for him to carry on as fire ants march up my throat.
“I love her as my first friend, then my first love. As my first kiss, my first everything. We grew up together, and there’s something to say about a friendship like that.
It stands the test of time.” I’m not sure where he’s going with this, so I listen and wait as he gathers his thoughts.
“I never asked her to marry me though, because even though we dated for a long time, I didn’t love her the way she deserved. ”
“She loves you.”
“I know.” He heaves out a breath, and I know he’s about to divulge something that weighs heavily on his shoulders. I squeeze his hand in comfort just as he squeezed mine. “I can’t have kids, Birdie.”
My mouth drops open at that bomb, and I’m unsure just what to say to that.
“I’m sorry.” Those few words will never amount to the weight in his soul at the confession.
His interaction with Lark makes so much more sense now, and my heart shatters for him because I can see it in his eyes—he wants kids.
“I made my peace with it, but Bloom?” He shakes his head. “She wanted to make that work, but I’ve been shooting blanks for years.”
“Arlo…”
“Don’t, it’s okay. But Bloom? She never got over it, and I hope one day she finds a love that makes her realize that the two of us were never meant to be.
” He jerks his head at the doors, but he doesn’t move, instead choosing to look at me with those soulful eyes.
“I have to know how you feel about that.”
“Why?”
“I know you want to leave, to run off to Maine, but, Birdie, I’m willing to see where this thing goes.” Shock leaves me rooted to the spot.