24. Chapter 24
Lydia
Sunlight spills across the kitchen table, catching the edge of the new coffeemaker Nick gave me.
I wrap my hands around my mug, letting the steam curl against my face, trying to settle the butterflies that now live permanently in my stomach.
Last night replays on a loop. Nick’s gentle hands, the promise in his eyes, the way his words made me feel seen and wanted in a way I’ve never known.
It feels like the beginning of something impossibly good, yet excitement tangles with nerves when I think about tonight.
His mom’s birthday dinner. I want to make a good impression, to belong, but mostly I want to hold onto this fragile, new happiness for as long as I can.
Am I even ready for any of this? I’ve only been here a few weeks. Am I ready to be with someone again already? I think I am.
When I came here, meeting someone new so soon was the last thing on my mind.
But meeting Nick changed that. Meeting him has been like finding the other half of myself, the piece I only dared to dream of but never truly believed I’d find.
It’s only been weeks, but it feels like we’ve known each other our whole lives.
My phone buzzes against the table, and my heart stumbles when I see Nick’s name.
Just a simple “Good morning,” but it’s enough to make my lips curve upward.
I answer, fingers trembling slightly, warmth blooming in my chest as we exchange a few easy words about our day.
He says he’s looking forward to seeing me tonight, and I remind myself it’s his mother’s birthday dinner, not a date.
I take a slow sip, trying to steady my nerves, listening to the birds outside and the hum of the refrigerator. Every ordinary detail feels magnified, as if the world is holding its breath with me. I wonder what Nick is feeling this morning. Is he as hopeful and anxious as I am?
The questions swirl, but underneath them is a quiet certainty. For the first time in a long while, I want to believe in happiness.
I refuse to attend a birthday dinner empty-handed, whether I know the person well or not.
So when my short shift at the bookstore ends, I pop into the home goods store, Cedar Lane Mercantile.
It’s the same store where Nick and I found the basket for his mom’s gift, and where he bought me the blanket I now sleep with.
I wander, mindful of my limited budget but determined to find something nice.
I settle on a small candle and a bottle of goat’s milk lotion I shamelessly test and immediately fall in love with.
I grab a small kraft bag near the register and place it on the counter with my other items. The young woman behind the counter is quiet but sweet, her gentle demeanor instantly putting me at ease.
“I love your top,” I tell her.
Her eyes light up, her smile widening. “Thank you. I got it over at The Velvet Finch. My friend Ellie owns it. You should check it out sometime. I like yours too.”
I smile and reach out my hand. “I’m Lydia. Hopefully I’ll be back in here soon. This store is lovely.”
She takes my hand with a much firmer handshake than I expect. “I’m Sam. My husband, Grant, and I own this place. I’m so glad you like it.”
We make small talk for a few minutes before I excuse myself. I like Sam. She seems genuine and kind.
I check the time and realize it’s earlier than I thought, so I duck into the boutique Sam suggested next door to find something for tonight. My budget doesn’t exactly allow it, but I want to make a good impression on Nick’s family.
I can survive on peanut butter and jelly and boxed mac and cheese for a few days.
The moment I step into The Velvet Finch, I love it.
It smells like sandalwood with a hint of vanilla.
It’s woodsy and welcoming, and I instantly want a candle that smells exactly like it.
A pretty redhead stands behind the counter, offering a smile and a silent hello while clutching a phone between her chin and shoulder.
I wander for a while, finding multiple tops I love. It’s still pretty warm during the day, but the evenings have turned chilly. I’m looking for something that feels like fall without screaming sweater weather.
Flipping through a rack near the back, a cropped copper-colored top catches my eye. I pull it free and hold it up.
Oh, I love it.
I grab it along with a pretty satin scarf that would make a great headband, then head for the dressing room. Just as I pull the curtain closed, I hear the redhead call out, “Hi! Sorry I was on the phone when you came in. I’m Ellie. If I can grab any sizes for you, just let me know!”
Her voice is bright and sweet. I instantly like her.
“Thank you! I really like this one, so I’m hoping it fits. I didn’t see any other sizes on the rack.”
I pull it over my head and smooth it down. It fits like it’s made for me. The color makes my eyes pop, dipping just low enough to show a hint of my collarbone while still being perfectly appropriate for a family dinner.
I push the curtain aside and step out to check the full-length mirror.
“It’s perfect, you must get it!” Ellie shouts from somewhere behind the counter, startling me into a laugh.
“I think I will,” I say, turning side to side. “It’s really pretty.”
I duck back into the dressing room and change quickly, checking the time.
At the register, I hand the top and scarf to Ellie, glancing over at the jewelry display. A pair of simple studs in the same warm copper tone catches my eye. They’re on sale, and I take it as a sign from the retail gods I should take them home.
Ellie’s enthusiasm is contagious as she hands me the bag of my new finds.
“I’m so glad you came in. That shirt was made for you. And it was the last one we had in stock. It was meant to be!” she exclaims, her energy filling the air. She tilts her head playfully. “You must be Lydia. Sam said she had a feeling you might stop in soon.”
“I am.” I chuckle. “Your store is beautiful. And it smells delicious. I want to bottle it up.”
Ellie’s grin widens. “Ooh, well then you need this.”
Before I can protest, she slips a small candle into my bag. “A thank-you for coming into my little store. I hope you come back soon.”
The gesture warms my chest, and I make a mental note to return soon. She has so many cute things and I need some clothes for fall anyway.
As much as I want to linger and chat with Ellie, I still have to walk home and get ready. I don’t want to be late for dinner, and I want to look extra nice tonight. I try not to think too hard about why making a good impression on Nick’s family matters so much.
I make it home quickly and rush into the shower.
Butterflies flutter low in my belly, and I try to push them down. I’m more excited than nervous, but anxiety still creeps in at the edges.
As I wash my hair, I can’t stop thinking about the way Nick held my face last night. The softness of his almost-kiss against my cheek. The way his beautiful brown eyes seemed to truly see me.
I shut off the water before my thoughts wander too far, but something about the way Nick touched me felt different. Something steady. Controlled.
Simon had never been that.
At first, I mistook Simon’s gentleness for tenderness. But there’s a difference between being careful and being disconnected, between wanting someone and simply taking what you want.
Simon always made sure he was satisfied, but where I was never seemed to matter.
I push those thoughts away. There’s no room for him tonight.
I curl my hair and finish my makeup, studying my reflection when I’m done.
The woman staring back at me looks happier than she has in a very long time. Calmer too. A lot of that is because of Nick, and how he makes me feel seen. But it’s not just him.
I’m learning to love the woman in the mirror. I’ve never really known what self-worth feels like, but I am determined to find it. One day at a time.
Just as I pick up my phone to text Nick for directions, a soft knock sounds at my door. I freeze, caught off guard.
Maybe it’s Rita? I can’t imagine why she’d come over, but I hope everything is okay.
I open the door just a crack, always a little hesitant, but the bearded man smiling back at me instantly calms my nerves.
Nick.
I open the door fully, taking him in. Clean but worn cowboy boots.
Faded jeans that fit him in the most sinful way.
A dark green plaid button-up with the sleeves rolled just past his elbows.
He smells amazing, and for a split second I have the ridiculous urge to lick his face. You know, just for funsies.
But I don’t. I probably shouldn’t put my weirdness fully on display just yet.
Nick holds a small bag in one hand and a bouquet of the most beautiful ranunculus and anemones I’ve ever seen in the other. He looks like he wants to speak but has suddenly lost the words. I feel his gaze linger appreciatively, and I don’t rush him.
I notice the hesitation. His eyes meet mine, then drop, as if searching for the right words.
The silence between us is full but not uncomfortable.
I love that I’ve seemingly rendered him speechless, savoring the power in this moment.
I can see the appreciation in his gaze as it lingers over my body, taking me in with open admiration.
Instead of filling the quiet, I stand my ground, letting the moment stretch, savoring the anticipation and connection.
“I was just about to text you for directions to your mom’s house.”
I love that he’s here, that he made the effort to come to me, and even more so that he brought flowers. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if I tried. And I don’t.
Nick grins sheepishly, holding the bouquet out to me.
“I figured I’d save you the trouble. Plus, I wanted to see you before dinner and give you these,” he says, voice low and warm.
Before I can respond, anticipation swells so big in my chest I close the distance without thinking. I throw my arms around Nick and kiss him, urgent and unrestrained, catching him so off guard that he nearly drops the flowers.