Chapter Fifteen #2
“Yes. She drinks seventy-two ounces of water every day, wears sunscreen even in the winter, and when she gives shots to the kids, it doesn’t even hurt.
After your relationship ended, she probably jumped right back into the dating pool.
She never thought it was her fault—she understood it was just bad timing.
See, Bella doesn’t fall in love with assholes, and she never doubts her self-worth.
When she realized her life goals didn’t align with yours, she didn’t pretend they did just for the sake of hanging on to what was familiar.
She didn’t wait around for you to maybe change your mind.
She loved and respected herself enough to say goodbye and move on. ”
Everett stops walking. “Jesus,” he deadpans. “She was perfect. Maybe I should try to get her back.”
“You should. I’ll come to your wedding.”
That makes him laugh. “Bella is now engaged to the local veterinarian. And I have no regrets.”
“None?”
“Well, maybe one,” he allows, tossing an arm around my neck. “But it has nothing to do with her.”
When we pull up in front of my house, I notice the living room light still on.
“Is she waiting up for you?” Everett asks, putting the truck in park.
“I’m not sure. Maybe.” I check the time on my phone. “It’s late for her, but I’m sure she’ll want to ask me a thousand questions.”
“Moms do that.” He switches off the engine and unbuckles his seat belt, but I put a hand on his leg.
“Don’t get out. It’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I feel like she’s watching, and it’ll just make things more awkward.”
“Okay.” We look at each other for a moment, my hand still resting on his thigh. The truck’s cab is dark and cozy, and part of me wants nothing more than for him to lean forward and kiss me again. Put his hand in my hair and his tongue in my mouth. Make me feel beautiful, worthy, wanted.
But I’ve drawn a line, and Everett McKean isn’t the kind of guy to cross it.
“Thanks again for dinner,” I say. “I had a great time.”
“You’re welcome. I did too.”
“What are you going to tell your friend?”
“Oh, man.” He exhales in defeat. Ruffles his hair. “I guess I have to tell him that he’s out of luck. But I don’t think I’ll tell him about the kiss.”
“No?”
“Nah. He’d be jealous if he knew the truth about it.”
“What’s the truth?”
He gives me a sexy, side-eyed smirk. “I’m not sure I should tell you.”
“Come on.” I poke his shoulder. “Tell me.”
“The truth is that I would burn this whole town to the ground just to do it again.”
I laugh. “You would not.”
“No?” He reaches for my jaw again, cupping it like he did on the bridge. Runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “Test me.”
My smile fades. In the silence, my pulse is like cannon fire in my head.
Then he drops his arm. “You should go inside.”
I unbuckle my seat belt and slip out of his blazer, leaving it on the seat when I get out. “Good night, Everett.”
“Good night.”
Breathless, I hurry up the front walk and dig around in my purse for my house key. Within seconds, the porch light comes on over my head, and the door opens. My mother appears in her robe, her hair and makeup still flawless.
“There you are! I’ve been waiting up.” She looks past me toward Everett’s truck. “Is he coming in?”
“No.” I give Everett a wave over my shoulder, and he waves back before pulling away.
“Didn’t you have a good time?” my mother asks, reluctantly stepping aside so I can enter the house.
“I had a great time.”
“Then why didn’t you invite him in?” She shuts the door while I hang up my jacket. “Don’t you like him? He’s very attractive.”
“I’m really tired, Mom. I’m going to bed.” Scooting past her, I start up the stairs.
“Well, wait a minute! I want to hear how it went. You’ve been gone for hours—you don’t have two minutes for me?”
Halfway up, I stop and turn around. “Sorry. It was very nice. We went to an inn called Wardwell House.”
“Oooh, fancy. What did you order?”
“I had chicken, he had steak. For dessert, I had vanilla ice cream with caramel sauce. Everything was delicious.”
She wrinkles her nose a little when I mention dessert, like the indulgence is something unsavory. “What did you talk about?”
“A little of everything.”
“Does he know about your divorce?”
I stiffen. “Yes.”
“That’s good. At least you know it didn’t scare him off. Although I suppose if burning down that bakery didn’t do it, nothing would.”
Don’t swing at that pitch. Don’t swing at that pitch.
“So will you see him again?”
“I don’t think so.”
She sticks her hands on her hips. “He didn’t ask for another date?”
“It’s not that.”
“Did you say something wrong?”
“No,” I say tersely, my jaw tight. “I’m just not interested in dating while I’m here. I’m focused on your health and recovery.”
She touches her chest. “Don’t blame this on me, Mila.”
“I’m not, I just—” I stop and take a breath. “Look, I’m just not interested in dating right now, period. It’s got nothing to do with being here or not liking Everett enough to see him again. It’s about me making space to create healthier boundaries for myself.”
“Oh.” Oddly, she seems to accept this. “Yes, maybe that’s best. Men can be cagey, especially the handsome ones.
You just never know what move they’re going to make next.
Better to protect yourself, or before you know it, your life is over and you’re a single mom in a small town without a decent sushi restaurant for miles. ”
My hands curl into fists. “Your life wasn’t over when you had me, Mom.”
“I’m just trying to support your choice to be single and give you some advice,” she says crisply, tightening the belt on her robe. “But if you don’t want it, that’s fine. Good night.” She sweeps into the living room, trailing the scent of her perfume behind her.
Nothing she loves more than a dramatic exit.
Upstairs, I change out of my dress and into my pajamas. After some internal debate, I decide to ignore all of Beatrix’s pointed looks and text Everett. A friendly note. Nothing suggestive.
Mila: Hey. Thanks for listening tonight. It meant a lot.
After a few minutes, I hear the bathroom door open and my mother’s bedroom door shut. I go downstairs, scrub off my makeup and brush my teeth, and by the time I get back up to my room, Everett has replied. I flop onto my belly across the foot of my bed and open it.
Everett: Anytime.
Everett: So texting is allowed? We’re not breaking your rules?
Mila: I don’t think so. We’re friends, right?
Everett: Sure.
Mila: So, texting is allowed. As long as it stays clean.
Everett: Ma’am, the mayor does not sext. Screenshots are forever.
Mila: True.
Everett: Do you still want me to come by tomorrow and hang that grab bar?
Mila: Only if it isn’t inconvenient for you.
Everett: How’s 3:00?
Mila: Great.
Everett: See you then.
Mila: Good night.
Everett: Night, Freckles.
I roll onto my back and hold my phone to my chest, a smile on my face.
See? It’s fine. We’ll be pals. Maybe hang out once in a while. A few texts here and there.
I won’t think about the fact that he gave me the best kiss of my life.
The kind of kiss you read about in books or see in the movies or hear about in love songs.
The kind of kiss you recall on your deathbed as your life flashes in front of your eyes and think, Well, I didn’t win an Oscar, cure cancer, or broker world peace, or but I had that kiss.
I bring my fingertips to my lips.
I had that kiss.