Chapter Ten
It wasn’t a dream.
But if it was, it was the best I’d had in a long time.
My fingers traced the ghosts of a kiss on my lips, as if by touching them, I’d rewind to the moment we connected. And I could’ve given in, opened up and threaded my hands through his hair, instead of backing away and saying goodnight.
I was such a coward.
It had been a long while since I enjoyed the company of a man who wasn’t pushy, until yesterday.
Yet, one kiss, one powerful kiss, and I tucked tail and slithered away.
Yep, I was definitely a coward.
And why? What was I hiding from?
Responsibilities. A life in another city. My children who still depended on me to pay the bills for the most part.
I sat up, rubbing a palm over my eyes as a soft knock sounded on the door. Feet moving faster than my brain registered, I flopped over and yanked open the door.
No one was there; however, a note was taped below the peephole.
Coffee in the lobby.
Breakfast ends at 9.
— T.
Just an initial. It wasn’t intimate or distant, but it was perfectly maddening, and definitely Tristan.
I showered and dressed with the speed of someone determined to feel nothing, and marched myself toward caffeine.
I spotted him instantly leaning against the counter, cradling a Styrofoam cup like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. His hair was damp. He must’ve showered. Of course he’d already showered. He probably reorganized the chaos of life itself before I woke up.
“Morning,” he said, voice a shade too careful.
“Morning.” I poured myself coffee, pretending the cup required intense concentration.
We sat in a corner booth across from each other. I studied the way he shifted in his seat, the way the collar of his sweater was slightly off kilter, and the way his lips twitched as if he wanted to speak but wasn’t sure what to say.
Although that could’ve been me as well.
He cleared his throat after a gulp of coffee. “Sleep okay?”
“I was warm enough,” I said.
A ghost of a smile, the kind that didn’t dare reach his eyes, surfaced.
Silence again, more awkward than uncomfortable.
“Did you want to grab some breakfast?” He motioned toward the continental breakfast. It wasn’t much and all pretty standard; toast, pre-packaged foods, an assortment of fruit—but it was infinitely better than nothing. And I was hungry.
Slowly, still unable to look him in the eyes, I slid to the end of the booth. “Yeah, I’ll grab some snacks and reinforcements for later.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” It was said with warmth.
When he hadn’t moved, I asked, “Aren’t you getting anything?”
“Nah, been up for a couple of hours already. Checked on the van, which is going to stay here for a bit, conjured up a rental, acquired a new client, and already stuffed the rental full of the remaining crates, minus a bottle of my finest red.”
“Conjured?”
“Sure, gloss over the fact I’m a true salesman and focus on that particular word.”
Finally, my eyes met his. “You still practice magic?”
“Only on days ending with ‘y’.”
“Really?” And here, I’d thought it had been a high school hobby he’d outgrown.
Finally, he slipped out from the table and glanced at his watch. “We should get moving. I still have a couple more deliveries to make and you still may have a flight to catch today.”
Relief and disappointment collided in my chest.
Right. Moving forward. Reality put your seatbelt on.
The statement hung like a heavy cloud. I hadn’t yet fully committed to spending the night at his place, but I hadn’t fully agreed to go home today either. I needed to make a decision. And pronto.
With my hands full of pre-packaged foods I would’ve never allowed the kids to eat, we stepped outside into the bright, unfiltered morning. The rental car waiting there was...
“Wow,” I said. “That is... yellow.”
A sports sedan, sleek and confident, but sprayed in a sunshine hue that belonged more on a highlighter than a vehicle sat waiting for us.
His mouth twitched almost in mocking embarrassment, and yet somehow, a ribbon of pleasure was woven in as well. “It’s the only one with the trunk space I needed.”
“I feel like if we park near a hive, bees might adopt it.”
He opened the door for me, amused. “You love it.”
“No, no. I’ll tolerate it with curiosity.”
But I smiled, and so did he, and for a moment we felt like us again.
––––––––
The drive out of Merritt was quieter than the night before, even with the music on. Tristan tapped the wheel sometimes, like words tried to crawl up his arm but didn’t make it to his mouth. He’d turn his head in my direction, lips parting slightly only to close before any sounds escaped.
I was just as silent, staring at the passing mountains and thick groves of trees longer than necessary, afraid of the thoughts waiting if I looked at him too long.
Somehow, the time passed with mindless small talk about the odd bird flying overhead and patterns carved across the sides of the mountains.
He slowed the car as he turned into a turning lane.
“Bridal Falls,” he said. “I need a quick rest stop.”
Rest stop at a tourist place or another amazing glance at scenery I’d only seen on tv?
We followed a long road up the mountain and parked in a small lot. I stepped out into the crisp air and inhaled the freshest scent imaginable, all earthy and damp.
“Ready for a bit of hike?”
“What?” I didn’t even need to start scaling the mountain to have my heartbeat spike.
The last time I’d hiked was when the elevator stopped working and I had to huff up five flights of stairs and down the world’s longest hallway to find a patient before surgery.
I swallowed down a morsel of fear and nodded. “Sure, why not?”
The entire hike, if you could even call it that, was flat terrain moving gradually uphill.
However, it was like walking through a magical forest with its moss-covered tree limbs.
Until the stairs appeared – yes, stairs in the middle of the forest – but they weren’t as steep nor as treacherous as I’d imagined.
I stole a glimpse at Tristan as he scaled the steps ahead of me, taking in his fine form as he effortlessly edged onward.
At the top of the stairs, I inhaled a strong breath of air, hoping he hadn’t noticed that I wasn’t in peak condition. After a few deep inhales and casual glances around to stall, we moved along the path steps in sync.
A thunderous roar teased my ears.
With a renewed burst of speed, I walked ahead under a cathedral of evergreens until the falls welcomed us, spray misting the air like breath.
“It’s beautiful.” I filled my lungs as if the fresh scent was a lifeline.
“It’s captivating,” he replied.
I swallowed the truth.
Tristan shifted closer and as our jackets brushed my pulse stumbled.
His hand lifted, slowly, like he was asking permission without words. One more inch and—
I stepped forward instead, pretending to adjust my view of the immense falls while simultaneously catching my breath. Pretending I wasn’t a coward. Again.
Out of the corner of my eye, his hand dropped unceremoniously.
“It’s lovely. I’m glad we stopped,” I forced out, voice too bright. And it was the truth. There were so many new places he’d shown me, and this ranked near the top.
“Me too,” he said. But it sounded like he meant something else entirely.
The moment flowed away with the water, but the ache lodged somewhere deeper, stubborn as stone. I wanted to say more, to talk about last night, but as much as the will propelled me to at least try, fear stood its ground and forced me to keep my thoughts to themselves.
Pathetic really.
I stayed there a moment longer than necessary, letting the roar of the falls fill the space where words should have gone, snapping pictures of the natural beauty, before we turned back toward the path, already rehearsing silence.
The car doors closed with a finality that felt heavier than it should have, the forest giving way once again to asphalt and distance.
Back on the road, Abbotsford came into view faster than I was ready for.
We parked beside a shop with a chalkboard sign proclaiming proudly: Locally Crafted Everything. Tristan dropped off two crates, exchanged a few easy words with the employee, and returned to the car. One of the quickest stops so far as I barely had time to think.
Slipping into the driver’s seat, his confidence faltered again.
“So... I have one last stop to make in White Rock.” He paused and held his breath before running a hand through his hair.
“From that stop, it’s two hours to the airport, or if you want, I can take you straight there and you could be home tonight. ”
Home.
Kids. Work. Familiar safety.
The invisible word or hung in the air.
I waited with heavy anticipation for option B.
He shifted his weight and locked his stormy blues onto my gaze.
His words did not falter or weaken. “Or come with me to the Island. Stay at the winery tonight, have some fantastic wine and a good solid rest. Give your worries a brief vacation. I’ll drive you to the Victoria airport first thing tomorrow. ”
The offer hung there like a held breath.
My original flight home was still booked. Rebooking would be extra, and a surprise for the kids when I arrived early. I wasn’t on ‘mom’ time right now; I was a grown lady in the company of a charming, trusted friend, someone I was exceptionally taken with.
However...
I looked down at my fingers twisting the hem of my shirt. Every sensible answer lined up neatly:
Do what you always do. Don’t invite risk. Don’t want too much.
But my heart, all traitorous and reckless, leaned toward him.
“Okay,” I heard myself say as I blinked hard while swallowing down the fear of making a wrong choice. “But only if you promise to get me to the airport. Tomorrow. My flight leaves at two.”
He nodded once. Controlled. Calm.
But something in his eyes flickered like I’d handed him sunlight he wasn’t sure he deserved.
“Tomorrow,” he agreed.
I exhaled through a tremor.
Because tomorrow felt far too close.