Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Determined, Garrett pushed open the door to Turner Books, the familiar bell chiming overhead. He spotted Lily across the store helping a customer locate a book. She called out a cheerful welcome, and he lifted a hand in acknowledgment before drifting toward the thriller section to wait.
He pulled a book from the shelf and turned it over to read the synopsis, but the words blurred together.
His mind wasn’t on plots or detectives, but on Madison—the way she laughed with her whole body, how she’d admitted egg rolls were her kryptonite like she was confessing a secret, and the way her hand had brushed against his earlier at the brewery—an electric touch that had sent him straight back to the crowded ballroom, blue satin, and the night he’d never forget.
He slid the book back into place as Lily approached.
“Hey, Garrett. What can I help you find today?”
“Actually . . .” He cleared his throat. “I was hoping to talk to you.”
Her brows lifted with interest. “Oh yeah?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, suddenly feeling like a teenager again. “I’m not sure how to ask you this without sounding . . . I don’t know. Offensive.”
Lily gave him an encouraging smile. “Just ask. I promise I won’t take offense.”
Garrett exhaled. “I still remember those Chinese dumplings you brought to the last game night and I wondered, do you know how to make egg rolls? I mean, I don’t want to assume anything. I just thought maybe—”
Lily burst out laughing. “That’s what you’ve been working yourself up over?”
He grimaced. “Yes.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with you mentioning Madison’s favorite food is Chinese?” Her grin turned knowingly mischievous.
Garrett hesitated a second before nodding. “I want to cook for her. A real dinner. Something that shows . . . effort.” Something that might make this place, and him, feel less temporary to her.
“That’s so sweet.”
He could tell Lily was holding in her excitement. Most of the time she’d jump up and down.
“Well, lucky for you,” she went on, “my parents own a restaurant in Manhattan’s Chinatown. I grew up rolling dumplings and carrying trays. Cooking is basically in my DNA.”
Garrett’s shoulders loosened. “That explains why you’re such a natural at Rosie’s.”
“Aw, that means a lot.” She held a hand to her chest. “I’ve been waitressing since I was this tall.” She held her hand near her waist. “And honestly, Rosie’s felt like home the minute I walked in.”
She clapped her hands together. “We’re not just making egg rolls. We’re planning an entire dinner. Do you know her favorite dish?”
He shook his head. “No. Just the egg rolls. But I can find out.”
“Great! Because this is going to be romantic!”
Romantic. The word landed in his chest. He hadn’t set out to fall for Madison.
He’d barely planned to let her stay in his orbit this long.
But between the late-night talks facing the lake, the shared silences that said more than words, and the quiet touches, his defenses had slipped.
He was building something with her without meaning to, laying a foundation for a life he hadn’t dared to imagine before she walked back into it.
“This means a lot, Lily. I want her to know she matters to me and belongs here.”
Lily nodded like she understood far more than he’d said. “Food is a language of love, Garrett. You’re speaking loud and clear.”
He gave her a grateful smile. “Text me when you’re free. I’ll make it work.”
As he stepped back into the sunlight, his heart felt lighter and more terrified than it had in years. Letting Madison matter this much was risky, but he was already too far gone.
Lily took command of Garrett’s kitchen with cheerful efficiency. They chopped, laughed, and argued over how thin egg roll wrappers should be.
She glanced at the glowing numbers on the microwave clock. “Perfect timing.”
Garrett followed her gaze, then looked back at the table she had just finished setting.
Lily had arranged two simple place settings with white plates, polished silverware, and a pair of ornate metal chopsticks resting neatly across each setting.
Small ceramic bowls sat nearby, ready for sauce.
A three-wick candle flickered gently between them, the warm glow reflecting in the glassware she’d insisted he use instead of his collection of mismatched pint glasses.
She stepped over to the counter and picked up the bouquet of flowers he’d brought home earlier—yellow daisies, purple coneflowers, and sprigs of greenery—and placed them into a clear vase in the center of the table. “There,” she said with a decisive nod. “Now it feels like a date.”
“This looks great. Thanks again, Lily. For everything. Really.”
She waved him off. She pulled two small containers, each labeled with their names, out of her bag and placed them on the island. “I made dessert.”
Garrett opened one and peeked inside. “You made fortune cookies? And they have a fortune in them?”
Lily smiled. “They do.”
“Wow. I’m impressed.”
“Okay, I need to go before Madison gets here. This is your moment, not mine.” She grabbed her bag and headed toward the door, pausing just long enough to flash him a bright, encouraging smile. “You’ve got this. Have a wonderful dinner . . . and good luck!”
Then she bounced out the door with a burst of energy that made him chuckle under his breath.
Garrett inhaled slowly, then hurried down the hall to change, swapping his T-shirt for a button-down and running a quick hand through his hair in the mirror. His pulse drummed steadily in his ears as he stepped back into the living room. A soft knock sounded against the glass patio door.
He turned.
Madison stood on the patio, framed by the warm wash of summer evening light.
She wore a simple sundress that moved gently in the breeze, the fabric skimming her knees.
Loose waves of hair fell over one shoulder and a tentative smile played at her lips.
She looked effortless and stunning all at once.
For a moment, Garrett forgot how to breathe.
He crossed the room and slid the door open.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Hi,” he managed, hoping she couldn’t hear the way his heart had just decided to sprint.