Chapter 10 #2
Catching herself, she set her glass down with enough force to chip it. God, she had to stop thinking this way.
“Sorry,” she said, aiming the word like a dart into Gallant’s latest stream of braggadocio. “Look, it’s been great to catch
up, but I should probably go. Early morning, and all.”
His smile dimmed. “Oh. Okay. You don’t want dessert?”
“No. This has been nice, but the truth is, Gallant, I—”
“Hey.” Concern crossed his brow. “No buts, okay? At least not until I give you your letter.”
She swallowed her impatience and nodded. She almost couldn’t bear to read whatever he’d written, because she couldn’t stand
to compare. Which she would, of course. She already had. “Okay.”
He flashed a strained smile, paid the check without fanfare, and trailed her to the door.
At the entrance, she stepped aside for an incoming couple, her heels clicking on the ocean-patterned tile. The man and woman
had nearly brushed past when Aubrey registered a familiar black pixie cut and sparkling blue eyes.
“Megan?”
The woman stopped, her expression pleasant, if blank. Then astonishment took hold. “Oh my god. Aubrey? Is that you?”
“It is!” Aubrey leaned in for a quick hug, then stepped back and held her friend at arm’s length. Megan hadn’t changed much—still
cute, still tiny, with dimples so perfect they looked painted on.
“It’s been forever!” Megan squealed. A man with jet hair and impressive cheekbones accompanied her, his hand cupped loosely around her elbow. “What’re you doing here? I thought you’d gone off to New York and forgotten all about us.”
Aubrey laughed. “How could I forget the girl who taught me a back handspring?”
Megan trilled a giggle. “Jeez, you look incredible.” Her gaze traveled up and down, and she fiddled with the cowl neck of
her glittery gold sweater. “I mean, really incredible. I think I might be underdressed.”
“Oh, please. I got lucky and found this dress in the discount bin. And you look absolutely amazing. I mean, how’re you glowing
like that?”
“Oh. Well.” Color blossomed in Megan’s cheeks. “Sixteen weeks of pregnancy is doing me some favors.”
“Pregnancy?” Aubrey’s heart swelled. “Really?”
Her enthusiasm earned a smile from the man who must’ve been Megan’s husband. As eager as Aubrey had been to leave, now she
wanted to stand here all evening, learning every detail of her friend’s life, her marriage, her baby—
Megan’s grin faltered as her gaze slid past Aubrey’s shoulder. “Oh. Gallant. Hi.”
“Megan.” His voice was cool. “Great to run into you.”
A tense pause ensued, and Aubrey glanced from one to the other. Whatever lay between them, it didn’t seem to match the civil
words.
Megan’s brows crooked. “You two aren’t . . . together, are you?”
Aubrey paused, hesitant to put a damper on the reunion by explaining. Better to change the subject and get specifics later.
“Gallant and I were just catching up. Funny we ran into you, actually. He suggested I talk to you about volunteering for Harvest
Days.”
Megan’s smile recovered. “Oh, really? I’d love to have you. Why don’t you call me this week? Everyone’s meeting up next Saturday
to get started.”
The awkward tension faded. A few minutes later, Aubrey slid into Gallant’s Tesla, Megan’s number tucked safely in her clutch.
Seeing her oldest friend had made the whole evening worth it.
Now she simply had to let Gallant down easy.
She’d accept his letter, then tell him the truth: that she simply didn’t feel the spark.
When he pulled into her driveway, he circled to her side and escorted her up the walk. On the stoop, he took her by the elbows,
searching her face with those luminous blue eyes.
Aubrey’s gut tangled when he leaned in, but his lips merely brushed her cheek.
“The last thing I want to do is pressure you,” he said, pulling back, “because I know we said we’d see what happens. But I’ve
been thinking about you. A lot. And I hope you won’t write me off until you read my letter. Sometimes it’s easier for me to
get things onto paper than to say them out loud.”
Something inside her coiled tight. Gallant dug in his peacoat and produced a crisp, expensive-looking envelope. When she took
it, the warmth of his body clung to the paper.
“Thanks.” Her voice came out rough. “I’ll read it tonight.”
“That’s all I ask.” He smiled. “And I’ll wait to hear from you.”
She nodded and returned his murmured good-night. When the Tesla’s taillights faded, she unlocked the front door, then set
the letter on the coffee table in the living room. The thing seemed to occupy the entire space, familiar yet not.
She scolded herself for her reaction. This wasn’t from Nick. For one thing, he’d never used a fancy envelope like that. Paper
had simply been a vehicle, a tool he’d used to bare his marvelously complex soul. Which he’d done almost compulsively, as
if she were the only one he trusted with it.
Unnamed emotions tangled in her chest, and she banished them by going to her bedroom, where she exchanged her cocktail dress for pajamas.
In the kitchen, she brewed tea, then circled back to the living room, where she built a fire and sized up Gallant’s letter the same way she might eye an opponent from across the ring.
She should just read the damn thing. Get it over with so she could let Gallant know that while she appreciated the effort,
they weren’t a match.
“This is stupid,” she announced to the empty room, then tore open the envelope before she could reconsider. She read the words
by firelight. Then again.
To her astonishment, her heart didn’t sink.
Instead, it took flight in a way she’d thought it never would again.