She slides the salad across the counter and then grabs some salad dressing from the fridge for me.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“You know.” She sighs and leans her hips against the counter opposite of me. “You reach this time in your life where you realize you’re growing up. That what you thought was enough before, isn’t enough any longer.”
“And?”
“And I’m just wondering if you really like this Blakely but can’t understand why this time is different, why she’s different, and so you’re fighting yourself on admitting it.”
I look up from my food and meet her eyes. There’s so much kindness and love looking back at me that my defenses crumble just a little. “All of the above and then some.”
The startle of her head tells me she’s shocked I just opened up to her. I am too.
“Then what’s the problem? If you like her, and she likes you, why are you so grumpy? Love is supposed to make you happy.”
“Let’s slow down there with the L-word, ‘kay?”
“Why does it scare you?”
And fuck does it scare me.
“It isn’t me who’s scared, all right?”
A slow smile slides onto her lips as she cocks her head to the side. Did I really just admit to my mom that I’ve fallen for Blakely? Did I really just admit that to myself?
“Tell me about her,” she says softly.
I fight my innate urge to deflect questions related to my dating life, and it doesn’t seem too hard because I miss Blakely like crazy and at the same time wonder how in the hell this happened.
I don’t fight the smile that comes. “She’s . . . something else. She’s confident and intelligent, and she has a great laugh.” I look at where my hands are clasped around my beer bottle and shake my head. “We just click. That’s the only way I can put it. I went on that stupid trip to try to help her out and left wondering what in the hell happened to me.”
My chuckle is slightly self-deprecating, but my mom’s smile is sincere.
“You know what’s funny, Slade? If I were to ask you that question about anyone else you’ve dated, your response is how she has great eyes or killer legs. It’s always about looks. With this Blakely, you didn’t make a single comment about her appearance and we both know she’s gorgeous . . . so, I don’t know about you, but to me, that says a lot.”
“I don’t know how this happened.” I rise from my seat and grab another beer I don’t really need.
“I know. It’s hard to believe someone actually loves you and your pushiness and kind heart,” she teases.
“Ha. Let’s not go that far.” The crack of the bottle cap fills the kitchen.
“Does she know how you feel?”
“I’m not even sure how I feel.” I chuckle and sit back down.
“Yes you do,” she murmurs as she runs a sponge over the counter. “It’s in your eyes when you talk about her. It’s in your tone. Why haven’t you told her?”
“For a lot of reasons.” I yawn.
“Try me.”
“Her last relationship was a marriage.” I quirk an eyebrow, waiting for judgment from my mom but there is none. Just patient eyes waiting for me to explain. “I’m thinking since her husband left her for a younger woman, the last thing she’s ready to hear or wants to hear is that I’ve fallen for her.”
And that’s the crux isn’t it? Sure, falling in love in this short amount of time is crazy, but admitting it and then being rejected is ten times worse.
“How do you know unless you tell her?”
“What if she spooks? Where exactly does that leave me?”
“And what if she’s feeling the same way you are and is afraid to voice it?” I start to speak, but she cuts me off. “You’re the guy who says what he feels at all times. You’re spontaneous and in-your-face and encourage people to live their lives without looking back. You’re the one who doesn’t hold back, so why are you doing it now when you need not to the most?”
Blakely’s expression in the lodge’s parking lot flashes in my mind. The emotion hiding in her eyes. The tenderness in her kiss. The quiver in her laugh.
Then I think of the space I’ve subconsciously given myself, hoping this ache in my chest would go away or dissipate. It isn’t supposed to be burning brighter. I think of the distance I’ve given her to see if she’ll just move on, use me as her rebound, and realize she doesn’t want a man right now.
And I think of how goddamn miserable I’ve been doing all of this—being without her.
“You really like her, don’t you?”
I sigh. “I do, Mom. I do when I shouldn’t. I do, and I can’t explain why.”
“Oh Slade, honey, that’s the best kind.” She takes a seat beside me, turning her chair so her feet are on the lower rungs of mine. “You know, fear makes people do stupid things sometimes.”
Like falling in love with someone after only a few short weeks.
“That’s profound.” I don’t look up from my salad.
“Fear. Of being loved. Of being rejected. Of being hurt,” she continues as if I didn’t speak. “Sometimes it makes people do stupid things.”
“Like?”
“Like push people away because it’s too good to believe it’s true.”
“I’m seeing her in three days. I’ll let you know how your theory pans out,” I deadpan, unofficially letting her know this little heart-to-heart is over.
She leans over and presses a kiss to my temple. I slide my arms around her waist for a hug. She stands there and runs her fingers through my hair. “Maybe we can do dinner before I head back home again?”
I snort. “That’s just another excuse for you to meddle.”
“Get some sleep,” she murmurs.
I’ll take that as a yes.
Blakely
I stop momentarily to look at myself in the tall window storefront to my right.
The dress I bought for tonight—burgundy with
