Chapter 19 #2
“I know,” he says, his voice rough. “I love you too. Even when you’re infuriating. Even when you make the most terrible decisions. Even when you scare the heck out of me.”
“Wyatt—”
“Eleanor, I really want to kiss you right now.”
“Then kiss me.”
“Are you sure? Because we said we’d wait until it was October, until you were sure about everything.”
I think about the email I sent an hour ago, about the door I closed and the door I opened.
“I’m sure,” I say. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
He doesn’t wait for me to say it again.
His mouth finds mine, and everything else falls away.
The kiss starts soft, tentative. His lips brush against mine like he’s asking permission, like he’s giving me one final chance to change my mind. But I don’t want to change my mind. I want this. I want him.
I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer, and the kiss deepens into something else, something hungry and desperate and full of everything we’ve been holding back for months.
His hands slide into my hair, angling my head so he can kiss me deeply, and I make a sound against his mouth that I might be embarrassed about if I were thinking clearly—but I can’t think clearly.
All I can do is feel. Feel his hands in my hair, his chest against mine, his heart pounding fast, matching mine, the scratchy stubble of his chin, the taste of him, coffee and something sweet underneath.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“Wow,” I manage to say.
“Yeah.” He rests his forehead against mine, his hands still tangled in my hair. “Definitely worth the wait.”
“Definitely.”
We stand there for a moment. The sun is fully up now, painting the mountains in golds and pinks, and somewhere I hear a bird in a tree singing.
“Come inside,” Wyatt says. “I’ll make breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat. You’ve been up all night making life-altering decisions.” He pulls back just enough to look at me. “And then you can tell me everything. The whole story. No more secrets.”
“No more secrets,” I agree.
He takes my hand and leads me into the cabin.
* * *
We eat eggs and toast at his table by the window, and I tell him everything about Genevieve’s email and how I felt when I read it, about the two weeks of agonizing over my decision, about the responses I never sent, about lying awake at night trying to figure out what I wanted, about the conversation with his grandmother in the garden and how afraid I was, and am, of choosing the wrong thing.
He listens without interrupting, just eats his eggs, and watches me with those steady blue eyes.
“Your mom really did a number on you, didn’t she?” he finally says when I’m done.
“She loved me, in her way.”
“I know, but love isn’t always healthy, you know? The way she raised you to value achievement over happiness, to perform instead of actually having feelings, to see everything as a ladder to climb.” He shakes his head. “That’s a lot of stuff to unlearn.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know you are.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “And I’ll help you, however I can. Even when it’s hard. Even when you make me want to tear my hair out by the roots.”
“That might be often.”
“Probably. But you’re worth it.”
I squeeze his hand. “So what happens now?”
“Well, now we finish breakfast, and then you’re gonna go home and get some sleep, because you look like you’re about to fall over.” He grins. “And then tonight we celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?”
“You choosing this life, choosing to stay here.” He stands up and starts clearing the dishes. “I think we should tell everyone. Make it official. Let Dolly spread the gossip so the whole town knows by tomorrow morning.”
“Everyone’s going to have opinions.”
“Everyone always has opinions. That’s what happens in small towns.” He smiles. “But they’re good opinions. They want you to stay, Eleanor. They’ve wanted that since you walked into town with your pencil skirt and pearls and tried to order fancy wine at a honky-tonk bar.”
I laugh. “That was so embarrassing.”
“That was so adorable.” He comes around the table and pulls me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me. “You’re adorable. Infuriating, but adorable.”
“You keep calling me infuriating.”
“Because you are. It’s one of your best qualities.”
I tilt my head up and kiss him, just a soft brush of the lips. “I should go,” I say reluctantly, “before I fall asleep standing up.”
“Go. Sleep. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“For what?”
“It’s a surprise,” he grins. “Trust me.”
“I do,” I say.
And I do trust him, completely. It’s the strangest, most terrifying, most wonderful feeling in the world.
* * *
I drive back to The Rusty Spur in a daze.
Everything looks brighter, somehow, more real.
The mountains are greener, the sky bluer, the air sweeter.
Or maybe I’m seeing it all for the first time, without the filter of fear and uncertainty.
I park in the lot and sit for a moment, watching the building’s weathered wood and the big neon sign with its cowboy boot and spinning spur.
This is mine, not because I inherited it or am obligated to run it, but because I chose it and want to be here now.
I get out of the car and walk to the side entrance, but before I can go inside, I hear someone calling my name.
“Eleanor!”
I turn to find Dolly hurrying across the parking lot, her platinum hair catching the morning sun.
“Dolly, what are you doing here so early?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” She stops in front of me, slightly out of breath. “I was driving past and saw your car, and I’ve been worried about you, sugar. You’ve been kind of off all week.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I stop to take a breath. “I had something to figure out.”
“And did you figure it out?”
“I did.” I smile. “I’m staying, Dolly. I turned down a job offer in Switzerland, and I’m staying in Copper Creek for good.”
Her face transforms. There’s surprise, then joy, and then something that looks like tears about to fall.
“Oh, honey.” She pulls me into a tight hug, and I’m having a hard time breathing. “That’s just wonderful. So wonderful.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I should have.”
“Hush. You told me now, and that’s what matters.” She pulls back, studying my face. “Does Wyatt know?”
“He knows. I told him this morning.”
“And?”
I can feel myself starting to blush. “And things are really good.”
Dolly’s grin is triumphant. “I knew it. I knew you two would work it out. Mavis would be so happy.”
“You think?”
“Oh, honey, I know it. She wanted this for you. All of it. The bar, the town, the people. You belong here, Eleanor. You always did. But you had to figure that out for yourself.”
“Thank you, Dolly, for everything. For being patient with me while I figured it out.”
“Well, that’s what family does.” She releases me and steps back. “Now, go get some sleep. You look like death warmed over. Tonight we’re celebrating. I’m telling everybody.”
“Wyatt said the same thing,” I say, laughing.
“Great minds think alike.” She winks. “See you tonight, sugar.”
She walks back to her car, already pulling out her phone, probably to start the gossip chain that will have the entire town informed by lunchtime. I watch her go, then turn back to The Rusty Spur.
My bar. My home. My life.
I climb the stairs to my apartment, collapse on my sofa, and fall asleep within seconds. I don’t dream about Switzerland or my mother or impossible choices. I dream about mountains and music and a man with blue eyes who loves me.