Chapter 19
Since Archer Kade owns the stables, he brings horse-pulled hayrides of people to and from Bugelbach’s as part of the Fall Festival activities. I spend most of Monday receiving groups of people and keeping the ferry organized from my end of the circuit.
I also spend significant time eyeing the treats everyone is bringing from the booths over on Main. I spy some of Sadie Stevenson’s sticky buns and a maple bar or two, and it’s around lunch time that I decide to ask Joe for a pocket of time off so I can go grab some for myself.
“Go on,” he says, waving me away with a cheerful smile and adjusting his straw hat. “Go get some food and take a gander at Main. I bet it’s a sight to behold.”
And he’s right. I have to park in the back lot of the hardware store, since Main is closed, but when I emerge around front, my senses come alive with something magical.
It’s a feeling born from the gently falling leaves, from the faint strain of music on the breeze—a sparkling, glistening feeling I embrace with both arms.
I step onto the street and head gleefully toward the hubbub, my steps light as I pass several tables full of kids, all immersed in some sort of craft project involving glass jars.
They’re clearly having a blast, laughing and giggling and talking loudly over each other.
I duck in front of several families trying to take pictures with the scarecrows and hay bales, murmuring quick apologies as I hurry by, and then I reach the vendor stands.
Pure, unadulterated happiness lingers ahead. Joy is within my reach. I can smell them—maple bars.
There’s a bit of a line at the Keller’s Bakehouse booth where Sadie is stationed, but I’m fine waiting. I find myself craning my neck in the meantime, looking up and down the street, but I don’t realize I’m searching for someone specific until I find him.
It’s Dominic my eyes land on. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow as he transports a bale of hay down the curb, settling it next to one of the trees lining the road and then standing up and dusting his hands off. He rubs the back of his neck and adjusts his hat, his body sagging slightly.
He looks tired, and knowing him, he probably hasn’t taken time to eat—which is why, when I finally get to the front of the line, I order one maple bar and one sticky bun.
He should at least grab a bite when he’s working so hard. If he doesn’t want it now, he can save it for later.
Although he’s nuts if he doesn’t want it now. These sticky buns are amazing. Not as amazing as the maple bars, but then again—nothing is. They’re unmatched.
Sadie passes over my baked goods with a bright smile, and I thank her and then scoot aside, letting the next person in line order.
I turn slowly, searching for Dominic, because he’s no longer standing where he was; it takes a moment, but I finally locate him working on a mic stand next to a large speaker.
“Hey,” I say as I approach. I hold out the bag when he looks at me. “I figured you hadn’t eaten, so I brought you sustenance.” I sound very casual, like this is a normal thing to do—bring your ex a cinnamon bun.
And it could be normal, couldn’t it? It’s not like we’re enemies. We’re two people with a common goal.
We just also happen to have a common dating history.
But Dominic doesn’t seem to think it’s weird or overstepping; he blinks in surprise when he sees me, but then he straightens up, his eyes lightening, his hands falling away from the mic stand.
“Hey,” he says. “Aren’t you supposed to be at Bugelbach’s?”
“I am,” I admit. “But Joe told me to take some time to come grab a bite.” I draw closer, and my gaze drops to Dom’s chest as a spot of color catches my attention. It’s a pink sticker with the words I Voted, slapped right over one of the finest pectoral muscles history has ever seen.
Dom’s gaze follows mine to the sticker, and a faint flush creeps up his neck. “Emma made me wear it,” he says. “They’re voting on the Mayor’s girlfriend.”
I blink at this. “As in, the Mayor will date whoever we vote for? That sounds dangerous.”
He shakes his head, resting his hands on his hips and looking down at the sticker again. “Apparently he’s suspected to be dating someone already, and everyone is voting on who they think it is.”
My conversation with the Ednas comes back to me, and I nod slowly. “I remember hearing something about that.” Then I smile. “Good for him. He’s been single for way too long.”
“It’s been a long time,” he agrees. He glances at the bag in my hand and then over my shoulder. Then, pointing at the bag, he pins me with a knowing look. “From Keller’s?”
I nod. “Sadie is over there. I brought you a sticky bun.”
His lips crook into a little grin. “What if I want your maple bar?”
“Who says I got a maple bar?”
“Me,” he says, his smile widening as I drift closer. “I say you got a maple bar.”
“Come and see,” I say with a shrug.
A gust of wind blows through, perfectly autumn and perfectly crisp, but it whips my hair around my face; I extend my arm further. “Take this,” I say to Dominic, wiggling the paper bag at him.
He takes it, and I remove the scrunchie from my wrist and wrestle with my hair.
I bend at the waist, flipping my hair over my head to give it some volume, and then I stand, letting it fall back into place.
I’m able to pull it into a high ponytail this way, one that doesn’t look slicked back.
After running my fingers up my neck to make sure I haven’t missed any hair, I turn to Dom.
“All right,” I say. “Let’s go.”
He doesn’t respond. His eyes on me have a dazed sort of look, and he licks his lower lip slowly as the bag in his hand crinkles.
“Dom,” I say with a frown, my gaze dropping to the bag he’s gripping so tightly. “What are you doing? You’re going to rip that.”
To my surprise, he steps forward, closing most of the distance between us.
Then he reaches up, his brows jumping, his eyes hesitant as they meet mine—asking permission, which I give breathlessly with a nod.
His gaze drops to my neck, and he reaches further.
I stifle my sharp inhale at the feeling of his fingers brushing my skin, just below my jaw; the sudden riot of butterflies in my stomach doesn’t go away, even when I feel a little tug at the base of my neck—a bit of hair I missed despite checking.
He pulls on it a few times, and I glance down as his hand falls away.
“Oh,” I say hoarsely, reaching up and finding the hair. “Yeah.” I clear my throat, and my voice sounds much better when I add, “Thanks.”
“Mm-hmm,” he says, his gaze darting away from mine. “Where to?”
“Do you have a minute?” I say. “To eat, I mean?”
“Yeah,” he says, and I’m relieved to hear we’re back to normal. “I’m hungry anyway.”
“Then let’s go over here,” I say, gesturing at the alley between the hardware shop and Keller’s. “Sit for a second.”
Dom shuffles tiredly ahead of me, not speaking, and I take the privacy of his turned back to take a few deep breaths and fan my face.
It’s warm out here, isn’t it? It feels warm to me.
By the time we reach the entrance to the alley, I’ve fixed my hair, and the world grows surprisingly quiet as we make our way in. The shrieks of children dim, the hum of noise and music fading, until we’re in our own little pocket of the world.
I hear more of Dominic’s shoes scuffing the pavement than I do of the festival, his steps slow, his shoulders relaxed. When he chooses a spot of wall and settles on the pavement, his back against the red brick of Berk’s, I do the same, sitting across from him and leaning against Keller’s.
“You’re tired,” I say, and again, I worry for a second that it’s too casual, but he nods.
“I am,” he admits. He pulls off his hat and sets it on the pavement next to him, running one hand over his hair. “I think everything’s going well, though.”
“It looks awesome,” I say, nodding toward the mouth of the alley. “Rosie and Juliet did a great job.”
“They did. Rosie will be glad when it’s over.”
“I bet,” I say, because putting together the Fall Festival is a huge undertaking. Then I jerk my chin at the paper bag Dominic still has. “Grab your sticky bun and then give me my maple bar.”
“Who you calling a sticky bun?” he mumbles with a faint quirk of his lips, but he unrolls the top of the bag and then removes one enormous roll, slathered in icing and wrapped in wax paper. He passes me the bag, and I dig out my maple bar and a napkin.
What a glorious donut.
I take a bite and let out a groan of satisfaction. “I needed this,” I say.
I glance up at Dom to find his eyes on me, one brow raised, but all he says is “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Then he takes a big bite of his cinnamon bun.
My body relaxes further against the rough wall, and for a minute or two, we eat in silence.
Dominic breaks it, though, when he speaks. “Oh,” he says, a frown curling his lips as though he’s just remembered. “What were you talking about this morning? You said our parents’ situation had changed.”
I sort of wish he hadn’t asked.
I clear my throat, breaking off a piece of my maple bar and popping it in my mouth. Because I’m nervous about what I’m preparing to say, I chew slowly. Then, finally, I let the words out. “So…I think Alvina actually likes your dad.”
Dom shrugs, his eyes on his sticky bun once more. “They’re dating, aren’t they?” he says, and then he takes another enormous bite.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean I think she truly likes him. Maybe is falling in love with him.” My fingers begin fiddling with my napkin, tearing it into small pieces of their own accord. “It seems different from her past relationships, except for the one with my dad.”
When Dominic’s jaw stops working. When he looks slowly up at me from across the alleyway and raises his brows, my pulse skitters—because I can tell he sees where I’m going with this. He quickly finishes chewing the bite of food in his mouth and then speaks. “And…?” he says.
“And…” I swallow, feeling the rough napkin beneath my fingertips, the sharp press of brick against my back.
“And what if we let them date?” I go on, speaking faster, trying to get the words out before he objects.
“I don’t think we’re having much success anyway, are we?
I think this could be good for her. Plus”—my deepest fear rears its ugly head—“we’ve almost been caught several times—”
“Are you serious right now?”
I jump a little at his question, even though it’s not loud or angry—just abrupt. When Dom sees my reaction, he sighs and sets his sticky bun down. “What if they get married?” he says, and though his words are relatively calm now, his body is tense, his eyes narrowed. “What then?”
“I don’t think they will,” I say, thinking of my conversation with Alvina.
But Dominic shakes his head, looking frustrated.
“What you think carries no weight on reality, Reese.” He reaches for his roll, stops, and then lets his hand drop as he looks at me.
“I asked you if you wanted to break them up, and you said yes. I told you not to get involved if you were going to change your mind.” His throat bobs as he swallows.
“But when Alvina tells you to jump, you ask how high.”
My napkin is shredded too finely for me to tear or rip anymore, but my hands work aimlessly anyway, my lip trembling as helplessness tries to rise in my chest.
“What do you want?” Dom says finally, letting his head tilt back against the brick wall. He watches me through lowered lids, his gaze expectant.
“I—” I begin, but I’m not sure how to answer. “I just—”
When I don’t continue, he shakes his head, rolling it side to side against the brick and looking tired. “What do you want, Reese?”
“I don’t want Alvina to hate me,” I say. “And I just want everyone to be happy!”
He lifts his head and gives me a slow nod. “And what if that’s not possible?” he says quietly. “What if there is no outcome in which everyone can have everything they want?”
I swallow, refusing to let those words in. “I’m sure we could figure something out—”
“No,” he says flatly. “We couldn’t. Your mother wants to date my dad.
I don’t want your mother to date my dad.
You don’t want your mother to date my dad, but you don’t want your mother to get mad at you if she finds out you tried to break them up.
” He sighs. “These things are mutually exclusive, Berkeley. You cannot have them all. So you’re going to need to work up the courage to make a choice.
” His direct gaze is full of things he’s not saying, but he finally finishes, “Some fences can’t be sat on. ”
And although the word coward never leaves his lips, it hangs in the space between us, dancing with taunting steps around me. I squeeze my stinging eyes shut and then blink rapidly a few times, because I cannot cry. I will not cry.
Because he’s right. Dominic is right, of course. And to cry would make me more pathetic than I already am.
But I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to move forward or how to move backward. So I take another bite of my maple bar.
It doesn’t taste as good as it did before, but I chew mechanically anyway. When Dominic stands abruptly, his movements jerky, I don’t look up at him. I don’t say goodbye when he strides toward the mouth of the alley, because if I say anything, it will be muddled with stupid tears.
I hear his steps pause at the entrance, though; they shuffle to a stop. When he speaks, his voice is tight, grudging.
“Think about something, will you, Berkeley?” he says. “Because I’m confused. When you make decisions, how do you choose your next steps? Are they even based on what you want?” He pauses. “Or are they based on what you fear?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, and I don’t have one to give. I listen to his footsteps as they disappear, reaching for my donut to give myself something to do—but it’s gone. I’ve already eaten the whole thing, and I didn’t even realize.
My tears finally escape.