Chapter Twenty-six
Kenna
I can’t remember ever having so much fun. I’ve met at least a dozen people since we walked through the door, every one of them making this town even more endearing.
Monty, the old man who runs the place, is a hoot. He must be eighty years old, but he has the work ethic of someone half his age. He’s got a charming slight southern drawl and seems to play the part of everyone’s grandfather.
Carter’s cousin Hudson McQuaid, his wife Dakota, and their kids Travis and Eliana are bowling on the far lane.
Eliana looks slightly older than Amelia, Travis several years younger than Christian, and I can’t help picturing the four of us laughing and getting on like they are.
One happy family. Is it really too much to hope for?
Or is it a dream that can never be realized?
Even with all the banter and light-hearted fun, every so often, my eyes will connect with Carter’s, undertones of sadness creeping in at the edges. From me. From him. It’s apparent neither of us want this date to end.
Heat crosses my face when I think about the fact that when the date ends, the night will most certainly not.
We’ll go home and collect our kids from next door.
I’ll put Amelia to bed, wait a few hours, check my appearance in the mirror no less than a dozen times, probably shave again even though I did earlier, and watch the clock as my appetite for him increases with every beat of my heart.
More sadness follows when I picture myself walking out of his bedroom for the very last time.
“You okay?” Carter asks, swapping his bowling shoes for his sneakers. “Thinking about Amelia?”
I shrug. “Thinking about a lot of things.”
He nods. “Same.”
Neither of us need to clarify what those things are. It’s pretty evident based on how we’re looking at each other.
On the way to return our shoes and check out, I stop and say goodbye to Dakota and her family. Eliana giggles, so cute. She’d have been a perfect friend for Amelia.
I catch up to Carter at the counter, but he’s already paid.
“How much do I owe?”
“I asked you on this date, Kenna.”
“It’s the twenty-first century, Carter. Or hadn’t you noticed? I’m perfectly capable of paying my own way.”
“You can pay on our next date.”
Next date. The man is nothing if not optimistic. My half-packed car is sitting in his driveway. This night is basically goodbye. But he keeps making statements like that one. About an impossible future he’s unwilling to accept.
I decide not to ruin the fun by insisting there won’t be any more dates.
But I really wish he’d let me pay. From what I’ve pieced together—not only from our conversations, but ones I’ve heard him having on his phone—he owns a business that seems to be on the razor’s edge.
He should be putting every penny into that.
Which reminds me. I still have to give him the second week’s rent before leaving.
He won’t take it. I’m almost sure of it.
The first seven hundred dollars I gave him still sits in a pile in an out-of-the-way place on the kitchen counter.
And it actually makes me like this town even more knowing several people—friends, family, and even a pest-control company—have been inside his house, yet the money still lies there, plain as day.
I’ll leave it on the table downstairs, along with the deductible for my car that he never asked for.
Maybe I’ll even write a note to go along with the money.
There are things I wish I could say to him.
But I know if I say them, he’ll try to convince me to stay.
He might even be successful. Which is why I can’t, and won’t, reveal my feelings.
But I can write them in a letter he’ll read after I’m gone.
It’s not a far walk from the bowling alley to the restaurant. They’re both on McQuaid Circle—the hub of this small town—and share a rear parking lot.
When we enter, it reminds me of an old sitcom where a guy walks into a bar and everyone shouts out his name because they all know him.
There are no shouts, but lots of ‘hey theres,’ chin dips, handshakes, and, most notably, glares from a small group of women in the corner booth, all looking at me like I’m the bully who just stole their lunch money.
After we’re greeted, seated, and handed menus, I nod to the booth. “I have to ask, do you never date? Because if looks could kill, I’d be worm bait.”
“Don’t mind them. That’s the single mom brigade.”
I raise a brow.
“You know, women with kids looking for a meal ticket.” He laughs. “If they’re looking at me, they are most definitely barking up the wrong tree.”
I huff my displeasure in defense of single moms everywhere. “Not all single moms are looking for a meal ticket.”
He looks guilty. “Ah, Jeez, I didn’t mean you, Kenna.
” He flicks his hand in their direction.
“Those three are known for some unscrupulous attempts to land men. The blonde got pregnant on purpose. Two times. With two different guys. Both of whom now pay child support, which I’m fairly sure goes to paying for manicures and waxing more than to paying for her kids. ”
My eyes narrow. “How would you know it goes to waxing?”
His full-on belly laugh hits me square in the chest. “Why, Kenna, I do believe you have a teeny tiny jealousy streak.”
I roll my eyes, yet say nothing. Because he’s absolutely right. When I think of him with any of the women in the corner, or that lady from the carpool line, or… anyone… I want to scream and punch something.
The waitress comes by. We each order a drink, but I can tell Carter isn’t pleased when I order one of the cheapest entrées on the menu. He adds on an extra order of French fries and a loaded chocolate brownie for dessert.
I’ll let him win that one, but he’s not getting away from my still unanswered question. “You didn’t answer me, you know.”
He looks genuinely confused. “Sorry. What was the question?”
“Do you ever date? It only seems fair given that you know far too much about my dating history.”
Drinks get placed in front of us. Carter sits back and takes a long, slow sip of his beer.
I shake my head. “It’s okay. Forget I asked.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s just not very interesting. Between Christian and the shop, there’s not a whole lot of time for extracurricular activities. It’s not that I never date. I do on occasion. It just hasn’t been a priority for me.”
“Are you telling me you haven’t had a serious girlfriend since Denise?”
His eyebrows shoot up. “I’m impressed you remembered her name.”
I don’t tell him I remember it all. Every word he’s ever said to me. They’ve settled in my mind and heart like precious gems. Because somehow, his words seem more genuine than those of any other man I’ve met.
I shrug like it’s no big deal.
“Nope. No girlfriends.”
“But there have been girls that you’ve… you know…” My cheeks flame.
He chuckles. “Kenna, are you asking how many women I’ve slept with?”
“God no. I would never. I was just wondering, um…” I avert my eyes then take a drink. “I was wondering how long it had been for you before we, uh…”
He playfully kicks my foot under the table. “A while. It had been a while. Maybe not as long as your eighteen months, but definitely longer than the average bear.”
My phone buzzes with a text, and dread grips me. Is it Cyrus? I don’t want to look, but I have to. What if it’s about Amelia?
As it turns out, it is about Amelia. But not in the way I was fearing. A huge smile crosses my face when I tap on Allie’s text and a picture of Christian, Bug, Amelia, and the twins under a blanket fort appears. I heart the photo then show it to Carter.
He takes my phone from me. My heartbeat spikes. Is he going through my texts? I try to swipe it back, but he plays keep away as he types into it.
He holds it out. “There.”
I look at the screen. He added himself to my contacts. I glance up and smile.
“Send me something, anything, so I’ll have yours.”
I think on it then start typing.
Me: Something.
Me: Anything.
He laughs out loud. A few heads turn. “Not exactly what I was thinking, but I love your wit.”
“What were you thinking?”
“Hmmm.” His mouth works side to side as he stares at me. Then he taps out a text.
Carter: Don’t leave tomorrow.
I look up to see sadness in his eyes. I’m sure it’s also reflected in mine. I pull my attention back to my phone and text him back.
Me: I have to.
Carter: No. You don’t.
Me: Please, Carter. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.
Carter: Thank God. For a while there, I thought I was the only one who was going to be destroyed when you left.
I look up. Our gazes connect. Isn’t it odd how even sitting right across from each other, it’s easier to text our true feelings rather than speak them out loud?
Tears threaten to fall, but I swallow them back.
Me: You won’t be.
It’s like the entire place has gone quiet and only he and I exist. It hasn’t. The restaurant is bustling. But we’re in a bubble. Staring. Longing. Maybe even mourning.
The bubble bursts when food arrives.
I squirt ketchup on my hot dog and take a bite. He dives into his own meal. I fear the night has taken a turn and perhaps there’s no recovering from it. But then someone scoots in next to Carter and steals a fry from the extra plate he ordered.
“Hey kids,” his sister Mia says, stealing another fry.
I paste on a smile, pushing our texts aside for now. “Hi, Mia. Nice to see you again.”
“Yeah, soooooo nice,” Carter says sarcastically.
Mia looks from Carter to me. “Wait, am I crashing something? Is this a date?”
Carter’s head shakes. “Spare me the innocent act, I know Allie told you.”
She takes another fry from the pile. “So sue me if I wanted to check in on my older brother who hasn’t had a date in what… a year?”
Carter looks embarrassed. But I’m secretly happy over the revelation. He’s not a player. I was fairly sure my instincts were correct about him not being one, but it’s nice to have those instincts validated.
He scoffs. “And you thought you’d go and ruin the first one by butting in on it?”
“I was actually wondering if you’d take towing duty tomorrow.” She points to the end of the bar. “See that guy over there? He just started his MBA at Cal Creek U last month. Thought I might show him the town.”
“If he’s been here since the beginning of the semester, I bet he’s already seen the town.”
She chuckles. “I was trying to be discreet. But if you won’t play along, then fine… I thought I might show him my bedroom.”
Carter spits out the sip of beer he just took—in the other direction, thank goodness. “Jesus, Mia. Really?”
Her face lights up as if she lives to torture her brother. Being the sole girl with three brothers, I can only imagine how protective of her they are. I always wanted a sibling, a brother especially. It makes me sad knowing Amelia might never have one.
Christian’s face appears in my mind. It only makes me sadder.
“Get Linc or Dax,” Carter says. “I worked the Saturday before last. Besides, I need to help Kenna load her car in the morning.”
She turns to me. “Dang. I almost forgot you’re leaving. But I doubt it’ll be tomorrow.”
My brows knit. “Why do you say that?”
“Haven’t you seen the weather?” She gestures to one of the large-screen TVs hanging in the corner. “The storm is taking a turn. Something about a shift in the low pressure system. They’re predicting a foot or more of snow this weekend.”
I look outside. It’s a clear sky. Not a snowflake in sight.
“I guess I’ll have to get up earlier than I thought.”
Mia pulls out her phone and shows me her weather app. “Looks like the snow will start in the middle of the night.”
I’m not sure if I’m happy or sad about it.
Because as hard as I know it’s going to be, I’ve shored myself up for leaving tomorrow.
I’m committed to it. I’ve accepted it. And now there’s a chance I’ll be delayed by a day or two.
Longer even. After which I’ll have to go through all these emotions again. I’m not sure my heart could take it.
Mia points out the window. “Truman’s Grocery is staying open late tonight.
Better head over if you need anything.” She scoots out of the booth, looks between us, and smiles.
“I’m willing to bet this weekend just got a whole lot more interesting for you two.
” She walks away, but tosses Carter a wink over her shoulder.
“Don’t worry about towing duty. I’ll figure it out. ”
Carter’s eyes are glued to the television. I turn and watch as well, squinting to read the closed captioning since we can’t hear it. I can’t believe my luck with the terrible timing of this storm. Carter obviously doesn’t feel the same way if the growing grin on his face is any indication.
“Mind if we stop at the market on the way back?” he asks. “We’re almost out of bread.”
“You think it will be that bad? Worse than the day I wrecked?”
“A guy can hope,” he says, his enticing hazel eyes locking onto mine.
I don’t tell him a girl can too. Because the last thing I need him knowing is how much I want to stay, even though I know I should go.
I stare back at the TV, hoping—no, praying for snow.
Because despite knowing full well that I should be moving on, I can’t help but want just one more day—or two, or…
more—with the most incredible man I’ve ever met.