The candle from their picnic was still glowing, and, perhaps happy to hide a little in the shadows, they didn’t bother to turn on lights. They sat on the couch together, turned slightly so they could face each other. Katelyn pulled the patchwork quilt onto her lap and carefully avoided touching Brian. He knew her restraint was smart, but all he wanted to do was continue where they’d left off. He couldn’t resist reaching out and twining a strand of her hair around his finger. It shone softly in the dim candlelight.
“So that was some practice date, hey?” she said when the silence stretched too long.
He shook his head. “I’d been wanting to do something special for you, but when I arranged everything, I sincerely thought it was going to be a casual night of feasting as good friends. But now . . . ”
“Now what?”
“Now I’m wondering if I haven’t been lying to myself ever since we met. Maybe every time we hung out was a ‘real date’—from my side anyway.”
Katelyn sighed. “I know. I’ve been worrying about that exact same thing. For me, I mean.”
Brian put his arm over her shoulder and she leaned in, took his hand, and laced her fingers through his. They were quiet for a long time, then Brian said, “Why does this feel more like some kind of sad good-bye than a hooray, we’ve found each other?”
Katelyn studied his face, then touched his bottom lip with her pointer finger. Her expression was anything but happy and it made his heart clench.
Before she could say anything, he spoke quickly, “You know earlier, when you asked if there was a kind of woman I hadn’t dated, and I said, at least one, but I didn’t elaborate?”
“Yeah?” Her whisper was as soft as lace brushing cotton.
“I’ve never dated anyone who convinced me two people could really be meant to tackle life together, or who made me wonder if some people are stronger together than apart. But when I’m with you—”
Katelyn winced and she pulled her hand from his. “You don’t know how simultaneously happy and destroyed that makes me feel. There’s a part of me, such a huge part of me, that wishes we could see where this goes, but . . .”
“But it’s too complicated, right?”
Katelyn’s eyes filled, and she nodded. “I’m sorry though, I really am. And I want to thank you so much.”
Brian shook his head.
“For being such a good guy, such a fun guy—and for reminding me that I’m not dead yet. Because of you, I can almost believe that someday I might have someone to really share my life with, someone I can be myself with, talk for hours to—and want to tear the clothes off of.”
Brian wanted to argue his case, to say it couldn’t be a fluke that they’d fallen for each other so strongly when they’d both been the furthest thing from interested in pursuing a serious relationship when they first met. They had to be meant for each other, or at least meant to spend some time together finding out if they were. But his gaze touched on an eight by ten frame directly across from the bravery quote. Katelyn, Lacey and Sawyer grinned out at him, dressed in outlandish clown costumes, arms wrapped around each other. And this time, he was the one who winced. He had to make life easier for Katelyn, not harder. She had enough on her plate, and he did really, really like her. Cared for her. Unfairly and paradoxically, he realized that meant he could only do one thing: back off.
He took a deep breath and forced a jocular tone he didn’t feel. “It’s probably for the best, though I admit you make relationships not seem like the next best thing to root canals. But then again, dentists always go on about ‘painless dentistry’ nowadays—and that’s a myth too.”
Katelyn smiled wistfully and shrugged, but he was sure she saw right through his stupid joking. Just like at the Spring Fling, he experienced a weird plummeting sensation in his gut as he imagined Katelyn laughing and holding hands with some faceless future man, in some time and place when things were different and her life wasn’t so volatile. But why did it matter so much? So they’d shared a kiss—albeit a hotter one than he’d ever known, but still just a kiss. And they talked a lot. So what? He could talk to someone else. He’d branch out a little. They were running buddies, and that’s where they’d leave it. He could let her go, because there was hardly anything to let go of. He was Mr. Happy to be Single Guy, right? He’d never wanted the complications and shackles of a committed romantic relationship before, so why start now? It was probably the combination of losing his home and staying with Jo and Callum, a.k.a. Mr. and Mrs. Lovefest. It was messing with his head, but he could get back to normal. Absolutely he could.
On the coffee table in front of them, the candle that had burned so brightly all throughout their picnic and the rest of the evening flickered and went out.