Chapter 33
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
ALLY
A ll I’d told Clay about our date was that it would be outdoors. “Bring a fleece. And a blanket.”
His knowing grin when he came to pick me up said I’d sufficiently fooled him. He thought we were going camping.
As much as I’d grown to love the wilderness, especially with him by my side, today’s activity would feature no unexpected animals popping up and threatening to eat our picnic lunch, which I carried in a backpack. There would, however, be bears.
“Okay, take this exit,” I instructed Clay, pointing to the Cherry Street exit in East Knoxville, where I was on a date. With my boyfriend.
“Turn in here.” I watched Clay’s face as he recognized the entrance to the Knoxville Zoological Gardens and cast a quizzical look my way. “I know. It will all become clear.”
We parked the truck in the lot, and Clay insisted on carrying my backpack, which I allowed as long as he promised not to peek inside. As it was, I was pretty sure he could tell from the weight and the sloshing noise there was a large thermos in there. But he didn’t know it contained homemade lemonade with mint springs floating in it.
I paid our entrance fee and felt Clay’s hand slip into mine as we walked along the path at the zoo’s entrance. He gamely allowed me to lead, never asking where I was taking us or why I’d chosen the zoo.
We walked past the red panda enclosure where I was tempted to stop, but I stayed focused on my destination, which was just a bit farther into the zoo.
Clay saw it before I did. “No, really?” The sheer delight in his voice confirmed I’d made the right choice. Black Bear Falls, the bear habitat in the zoo, was one of the nation’s best. When we neared, we could see two bears wrestling with each other in a puddle of water, rolling around to the delight of the kids with their faces pressed up against the outside of the enclosure.
One bear was biting at a stream of water cascading from a rock, and another one was biting its bear companion.
“Perfect spot for us to camp with bears and not worry about getting eaten,” I said, pointing at the backpack. “Though we’re not spending the night here, in case you’re scared.”
“Honestly, spending the night inside a zoo freaks me out more than being in the wilderness,” Clay admitted.
I thought about that for a moment, and after seeing the outdoors the way Clay did, I had to agree.
We stood and watched the bears for a while, marveling at how much energy they had and how playful they were. “I almost want to meet a bear in the woods now because they seem pretty fun,” I said.
“Ha. Still not going to happen, at least not in the places where I’m planning on taking you camping.”
“Oh, so you have more camping plans for me, do you?”
“I have a lot more plans for nights inside a tent. Can you blame me?”
God, I loved this man.
Nudging him with my elbow, I pointed to a pristine stretch of grass next to a picnic area. “Let’s sit over there. That way we can still watch these guys while we have lunch.”
He carried the backpack over to the grass and we unpacked the wooly plaid picnic blanket, the thermos of lemonade, various cups, plates, and utensils, and the mammoth sandwiches I’d picked up at Daisy’s early this morning. “And also, there’s pie.”
He grimaced. “Pie kind of makes me think of that awful dinner at my parents’ house.”
“That’s why I brought it. Figured we needed to reimagine pie.”
Clay liked that idea, but even more, he liked the idea of lying down on the blanket with me curled up by his side. As he held one of my hands against his heart, he ran his other hand through my hair. I tipped my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes against the sun, but every time I opened them, Clay looked content.
“This is good, Alexandra. Perfect day.”
“Hey, I’ve always meant to ask you, why do you call me Alexandra?”
“It’s your name.”
“Yes, but everyone calls me Ally.”
He shrugged. “I’ve always preferred Alexandra.”
That made me smile. “She prefers you too.”
We stayed like that for half the day, eventually digging into the picnic, but mostly content to lie around lazily and talk. About our parents and the way they’d done a number on us in their own ways. About our students who we’d miss next year when they all scattered for college. About us—hopes and plans, dreams for a future neither one of us had imagined when we first met as teenagers.
Well, maybe we each had hoped for it a little bit.
“This is what we should have done from the beginning, instead of breaking up,” Clay said, gesturing around us.
“What, having a picnic with bears?”
“No, talking. And I take full responsibility for that. I panicked and I left the table. That’s on me.”
I hated that he continued beating himself up over it. “Bygones,” I said. When he opened his mouth to argue, I covered it with mine. He didn’t resist, instead gripping my shoulders and gently pulling me down onto the blanket. I curled up on my side and wrapped my arms around his neck, giving myself just enough distance so I could look at him but not an inch more.
Our bodies connected in so many places—my knees curled in against his stomach, his hand on my cheek, mine behind his neck, one of his legs draped lazily over mine. Our hearts intertwined. Like they were meant to be.
Like they called the shots and we just needed to wake up and realize it.