Chapter 27
They drove to the diner together later that morning and spent a lot of time finding excuses to touch whenever they were near each other.
Rebecca still had so much to do to empty out the diner’s kitchen, and Crispin’s deadline still hung over her head, but she couldn’t focus on anything but Cort.
Her eyes kept drifting to him, through the kitchen pass: the contours of his biceps under his white T-shirt, the way his forearms flexed as he worked.
The way he bit his lip when he was concentrating.
“You’re staring,” he said without looking up.
“Am I?” she asked innocently. “I hadn’t noticed.”
His easy grin turned wicked in a way that made her stomach drop. “Keep looking at me like that, and this floor is never getting finished.”
“Maybe I don’t want it to get finished,” she said before she could stop herself. “Maybe I just want to stay here forever.”
Cort stilled, and she both wished she hadn’t said it and wanted to say more. “Becca…”
“I know, I know,” she said quickly, heat rushing to her cheeks. “You have work to do.”
But instead of returning to his sanding, Cort set down his tools and crossed the room. He stopped in front of her, crowding her gently against the counter until she had to tilt her head back to look at him.
“For the record,” he said, his voice low and rough, “I don’t want it to get finished, either. And I would very much like you to stay.”
Their kissing intensified until it was clear there was only one thing they both wanted.
“We can’t,” she said breathlessly, even as she didn’t move away.
“We definitely can’t,” he agreed, his lips trailing down her neck, lifting her sweater.
“Very unprofessional,” she whispered, leaning back to give him better access.
“Completely inappropriate,” he murmured against her skin, his hands sliding to her waist, lifting her easily onto the counter, stepping between her knees, kissing her like there was nothing else in the world they needed to be doing, and nowhere else in the world either of them would ever need to be.
—
In the afternoon, Rebecca decided that if she didn’t leave the diner, it truly wouldn’t ever be finished—so she kissed Cort goodbye and walked to Calloway’s Orchard.
As she got closer, Sabrina’s voice carried over the rows of apple trees, brisk and bright as she directed a crew hauling hay bales for the maze.
Byron, her assistant, trailed close behind with a clipboard, trying to keep up as Sabrina gestured toward wagons, ladders, piles of cornstalks.
When she spotted Rebecca, her expression was knowing.
Rebecca had wanted to tell her what was going on with Cort in person—but it was clear she already had some inkling.
She walked closer, her expression now thoughtful.
Sharp and perceptive. She looked Rebecca up and down.
“So it is true,” she said. Rebecca started to blush.
“Is it all over town?”
“You absolute trollop, it is. And I couldn’t be happier, honestly.
That you two finally got over yourselves and got together.
I want to know everything.” She turned to Byron.
“You can hold down the fort for half an hour, yes?” She didn’t wait for an answer.
“Come on. Let’s go to my place for coffee. ”
In Sabrina’s sunny converted barn apartment, Rebecca felt relieved to be able to talk about the past few days. “I haven’t really processed it myself. It’s all just felt so easy. And so good.”
“I’ll bet,” Sabrina said, waggling her eyebrows. “And of course it feels easy. It’s years in the making. You two are meant to be.”
Rebecca both loved hearing her best friend say this and felt confusion swirling inside her.
She was only in Bramley Hollow for a few more weeks.
Cort had a life here and she didn’t, not really.
She wanted to say all this to her friend, but it felt like a problem with no solution.
And besides, they had something else to talk about.
“Telling you about Cort and me isn’t really why I’m here,” she finally said. “I want to talk to you about something.” Again, Sabrina seemed knowing.
“Finally ready, huh? This tracks. It’s been a few days, you’ve had time to process and decide you can’t keep what you’re feeling bottled up inside.”
Rebecca swallowed. “That photograph, of my mom and your dad…”
“It’s just a photograph, Becca.”
“I found another one, though. In a box of my mom’s stuff in my grandmother’s office.
” She had it with her, pulled it from the back pocket of her jeans, her heart racing, feeling guilty for some inexplicable reason, as if she had done something wrong.
Tears were filling her eyes, and she blinked them back quickly as her friend looked at the photograph.
Finally, Sabrina looked up. And her eyes were shining, too. “Oh, Becca. Why do you torture yourself like this?”
“What do you mean?”
She shook her head, looked down at the photograph once more, then handed it back.
“We’re not kids anymore. If we were, of course we would be jumping to conclusions and making things awkward.
I’d probably be insisting on doing some sort of mail-in paternity test, telling you there’s a very high chance we’re sisters, not thinking at all about the emotional consequences.
But, Becca, all you need to do is talk to my dad. ”
She closed her eyes and groaned. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? I love you, Becca. You know that. But you make a habit of running from the truth, and with Cort, okay, fine, maybe the timing wasn’t right and now it is.
But this could be a truth that you can’t run from.
This isn’t just about family drama anymore.
It’s about your life, Becca. You can’t let fear keep you from finding out who you are. ”
“But it’s like you just said. There are emotional consequences.”
“Not the kind you think. We’re your family, no matter what.
You have to believe that. You have to stop being so afraid.
” She pulled her friend close for a hug, but Rebecca pulled back, wrapping her arms around herself, suddenly feeling cold, even in the thick knit Fair Isle sweater she was wearing.
She wanted to protest, to tell Sabrina she didn’t want the weight of that knowledge.
But she also felt the echo of Lenore’s silences, the gaps in her story, the ache that came from not knowing, all these years.
Rusty had wandered over to curl up by Becca’s feet. She buried her hand in his thick fur.
“Talk to my dad,” Sabrina said softly. “I’ll love you no matter what happens.”
“I love you, too, Beans.” But she didn’t commit to anything—not yet. She just let herself sit with the possibility of asking questions about who her father was without letting it scare her into running away.