Chapter 10 #2
I forget how to string together words when she reaches for my hand, her fingers sliding easily between mine in a perfect fit. Just the simple press of our palms together sends a shockwave all the way down to my toes.
“Come on,” she says, tugging me toward the door. “I’m starving.”
As Meadow leads me out of the room, hand in hand, one thought hits me square in the chest.
I haven’t even kissed her yet, and I think I’m already falling for Meadow Riley.
Less than ten minutes later, we’re sitting across from each other at The Palms.
The restaurant glows under the open night sky, shadowed by swaying palms and strings of warm, white lights that cast a golden haze over the tables.
Tiki torches burn along the perimeter, their flames dancing lazily in the ocean breeze.
Set up in a corner near the entrance is a small band, playing steel drums and humming along to the beat of Margaritaville .
I glance around, noticing some diners swaying along in their chairs, others singing the lyrics to the person beside them.
Beyond the tiki torches, palm trees, and flickering lights lies the perfect backdrop: the Caribbean Sea, washing in and out with slow, effortless waves.
The whole place feels like a dream, like I’m not meant to be here. I’ve never felt so out of place yet so at home at the same time.
But Meadow… She looks like she belongs here. She looks up from the menu and finds me staring at her. One corner of her mouth lifts in a small but knowing smile.
God, she’s so stunning.
I can’t look away. I can’t take my eyes off her. I’m fixated by the way the lights reflect off her dark irises, looking like a blanket of stars beneath her heavy lashes.
What I would give to reach across the table right now, slide my fingers through her hair, and—
My thoughts are cut short as a woman with brunette curls and a friendly smile approaches our table, dressed in a tropical button-up and khaki pants.
“Good evening,” she says warmly. “I’m Keisha, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”
“Hi,” Meadow smiles back, giving the waitress her full attention.
Keisha gestures toward the bar menu. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”
Meadow glances at me. “I was thinking rum punch?”
“Excellent choice,” Keisha nods. “Bambarra rum is a local favorite. And for you, sir?”
“I’ll do the same,” I add with a grin. “Seems wrong not to try it while we’re here.”
“You won’t be disappointed,” Keisha chimes. “And what about an appetizer?”
“Conch fritters,” I say without needing to think. “I’ve been salivating over them ever since I saw the menu online.”
Keisha chuckles. “Ah, checking out the menu ahead of time. Smart thinking.” She gives a quick nod. “Perfect. I’ll be back shortly with your drinks.”
Meadow and I both say thank you at the same time as Keisha turns to walk toward the bar.
When it’s just me and Meadow again, a comfortable silence settles between us. Not awkward or heavy. I’m grateful I addressed what happened at the pool before we got to dinner, because the last thing I want is for tonight to feel tense or full of unspoken words.
I want this to be fun and relaxed. A night where Meadow doesn't feel on edge or uncomfortable. As much as I hate the term ‘friend’ when it comes to her, I want Meadow to know I’m still hers. Not some creep trying to get in her pants after what she went through today.
“You know what I was thinking today?” I ask, leaning my elbows against the table and clasping my hands together.
“What’s that?”
“There’s one thing about you I don’t know,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
Meadow arches a challenging brow. “Oh yeah? Only one?”
“I’m serious,” I smirk. “I feel like I know almost everything about you. We’ve been office-mates and friends for four years. But somehow, I don’t know your favorite book.”
She blinks, surprised as a line forms between her brows. “That’s what you’re curious about?”
“As much as you read?” I shrug. “Yeah. I kind of feel like a shitty friend for not knowing your favorite book.”
She leans back in her chair, eyes drifting toward the canopy of lights above us as she thinks.
“Okay,” she sighs like she’s bracing herself. “But you cannot judge me.”
I toss her a devious grin. “Me? Never.”
She narrows her eyes to little slits. “No, seriously,” she says, pointing at me. “Don’t judge.”
I bite back a laugh.
“Just say it, Meadow.”
“Twilight,” she finally blurts.
My brows shoot up at her confession.
“The sparkly vampire romance?”
She groans and rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t get stuck. “Sure. If that’s what you want to reduce it to.”
“I’m kidding,” I say quickly with a laugh. “I’m not judging you. How could I? That book has a cult following.”
“Because it’s awesome,” she defends, leaning forward now. “And not just because of the hot vampires, okay?”
Hot vampires.
Great.
My competition is now fictional, immortal vampires. Comforting.
I lift my hands in surrender. “I’m all ears.”
She draws in a breath, preparing to go full fangirl.
“It’s about wanting something you’re not supposed to have. About feeling ordinary and still being chosen,” she shrugs sheepishly. “And about a love that feels… overwhelming. All-consuming. Like even though it could ruin your life, you still go for it despite the consequences.”
I nod my head, fully invested in her explanation.
“And yes, I know it’s dramatic and over the top,” she adds quickly, flashing a crooked smile, “but it’s also safe and cozy.
I find myself re-reading it when I really need an escape.
It’s a comfort read for me,” she stops and thinks, lifting her chin slightly.
“So you know what? Hell yeah to sparkly vampires. I’ve got zero shame. ”
I click my tongue, equal parts amused and impressed.
“That actually makes a lot of sense.”
Her brows knit together. “It does?”
“Yeah,” I answer with a smug grin. “You’re just like Bella, a feelings person pretending not to be. You’re a tough shell to crack, but underneath it all, you just want to be swept off your feet by a ‘hot vampire’.”
I tilt my head, looking her straight in the eyes. “Admit it, Meadow. You’re a softie deep down.”
She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair.
“Rude,” she says sarcastically, knowing I’m spot on. “And how do you know so much about Bella?”
I feign outrage like she’s offended me. “I’ve watched the movies. What, did you think I’ve been living under a rock?”
As Meadow parts her lips to respond, Keisha returns with our drinks, carefully setting them in front of us. Meadow reaches for her glass, her eyes never leaving mine as she takes a long, slow sip.
There’s something undeniably intimate about the way she looks at me over the rim… quiet, unguarded, like the rest of the world has fallen away.
After we thank Keisha and she disappears back into the mix of tables, I lift my own glass and take a drink, savoring the burn of rum as it slides down my throat.
“Shit,” I say after another taste. “That’s damn good.”
“Right?” Meadow hums, lifting her glass in agreement.
A beat of silence passes between us before I decide to ask Meadow a question I’ve wanted to know for a while.
“Speaking of books and writing,” I start, more serious now. “You’re incredible at it. The stuff you do for the company…. It’s insane. Have you always wanted to write sports? Or did you ever picture something else?”
Meadow lets out a humorless laugh. “God, no. I mean, I’m thankful to have a stable job, but…” she trails off. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to write fiction.”
“Yeah?”
“Romance, specifically,” she admits shyly.
“But since getting published feels like finding a needle in a haystack, I’d have to start as an indie author,” she exhales, looking down at her drink.
“I don’t know, maybe someday I’ll try writing a novel in my free time, but there’s no way it could pay my bills.
It’s kind of just a pipe dream, I guess. ”
“It doesn’t have to be a pipe dream,” I disagree, shaking my head.
She stares back at me, looking perplexed but intrigued.
“I’m serious,” I deadpan. “If anyone can do it, it’s you. You work your ass off—harder than anyone I know. You’re disciplined, smart, and you don’t quit when things get hard.”
Her gaze stays locked on mine, hanging on to my every word.
“Would it be a challenge? Yeah,” I admit. “But I have no doubt you could do both if you wanted. And if you ever decided to go all in…” I shrug. “I’d bet on you every time.”
Her face relaxes, shifting from surprise to tenderness, as if she’s not used to having someone truly believe in her.
“Thank you, Owen,” she rasps. “That really means a lot.” She pauses, then smiles to herself. “Maybe I will start my own story soon. I don’t know, just to see where it goes. It could be a fun hobby in my free time.”
“Good,” I reply without missing a beat. “You should. You deserve to give yourself that chance, Meadow.”
When her eyes lift to mine, they’re full of gratitude.
For the first time in a long time, a spark of confidence dances in her gaze. I’ve always thought of Meadow as the most self-assured, badass woman I know, but unfortunately, it's obvious that she doesn't see herself in that same light.
Even if this thing between us never goes any further—even if she just stays my friend until the end of time, I’ll still make it my mission, every single day, to see this look on her face. To know that she believes in herself just as much as I do.
Even if I’m the man she never falls for, I’ll always be the one standing beside her.