I hadn’t exactly been conscious as we flew into New York, but I wouldn’t have wanted to miss the first views of my mountains as we approached Adelaide Springs for anything in the world. So it was probably a good thing that new fears and concerns had made my fear of flying feel pretty minimal. (It was also probably for the best that Cole had absconded with my painkillers and never given them back.)
It was the most beautiful place on earth. It didn’t even matter that I’d seen such a small amount of everything else that was out there. I knew it. The way the mountains from certain angles looked exactly like kids draw mountains, with sharp triangular peaks and Charlie Brown–shirt zigzags of snow marking a clear break in the elevation of precipitation. The way you didn’t even have to refer to fields of wildflowers as wildflowers, because it went without saying. Everything was wild. Even the way you had to keep your pets inside at certain times of year or day so that they weren’t snatched up by a hawk or devoured by a mountain lion.
Oh gosh, that’s horrible. That’s not how I should have said that. At all. But, I mean, wasn’t it kind of cool that the animals we had to watch out for were genuine high-on-the-food-chain sorts of predators and not rats or possums or some other icky, pesky things that of course everyone feared but that no one exactly bragged about being scared of or having run-ins with? Colorado pests made you want to climb to the top of Pikes Peak and sing “America the Beautiful.”
And then, of course, there were the people. I loved the people of Adelaide Springs. Now that all my grandparents had died and my mom had moved away, I only had my dad and Melinda, of course. But I also had an entire population of people who honked when they drove by if I was out on my porch, and who would bring me interesting material they found at a consignment store in Grand Junction, just in case I wanted to make some new clothes or curtains with it. There were generations of people who had watched me grow up and who I knew still saw me as a kid, but who never failed to treat me as an adult.
Whenever I missed my grandparents, I could swing by The Inn Between. It had been years since Jo had converted their house into a bed-and-breakfast, but she never even blinked when I walked in, ascended to the top-floor clubhouse, and sat at the bay window to catch the sunset.
There were things that annoyed me, of course. The amount of snow some winters. The way the ragweed pollen filled the air from August to October, making me essentially allergic to breathing. And it was a total pain to always have to make sure my cats were distracted when I opened the door.
Sometimes Dad would just drop by at the absolute worst times with complete urgency because he wanted to fix a hinge on my bedroom door or snake the drain in the bathtub, even though the door had been off the hinge for nine months, and I never shut it anyway, and the tub was draining perfectly fine.
But still . . . I was so grateful to be close enough to keep an eye on him, and to know there were a whole bunch of people who considered it their duty to keep an eye on me.
“You buckled in, Laila?” Steve, the pilot, called back to me in the second row. I was the only passenger on this particular flight.
“Yep!” I shouted to be heard over the plane noise and braced myself by digging my fingertips into the seat back in front of me and closing my eyes. “Ready!”
So . . . yeah. Still not a fan of flying in general, and definitely not a fan of flying on little death machines that seem like they’re made out of aluminum foil and are roughly the size of a flatbed truck. But I also wasn’t a fan of driving a few hours in a rental car over mountain passes when I hadn’t slept a whole lot, wasn’t really sure what time it was (no matter what my watch said), and couldn’t focus for more than seven seconds on anything but how Adelaide Springs wasn’t going to feel like home anymore without Cole. Even if I couldn’t imagine ever being anywhere else.
Finally, a few of the longest minutes of my life had passed and we were bouncing and skidding onto the runway. I opened my eyes again for the first time since we’d begun our final descent. I loved looking at my mountains, but I knew they were a lot more beautiful when you weren’t fearing your imminent death from crashing into them.
“Thanks, Steve.” I stepped past him with my backpack and purse and he followed me out to retrieve my suitcase. “I’m sorry you had to make the trip just for me.”
“No worries. I have an outgoing too. Worked out perfectly.”
My breath caught in my throat, and I implored myself not to get my hopes up. It was probably just the Marksons going to visit their grandkids in Seattle. Or maybe some of the snowbirds were heading to Arizona a little late this year. I’d gotten on early flights and gained two hours crossing time zones, but still. It had never occurred to me that I might get here before he left.
“Thanks again, Steve. Say hi to Kathy and the kids for me.”
I looked toward the parking lot to see if I spotted Cole’s Wrangler, and that’s when reality caught up with me. He’d rented a car in Denver, which meant he’d probably driven back to Denver and would be flying to New York from there.
Ah, well. What’s a little more disappointment?
In a few days I’d be driving up to Denver myself. How easy it would be to ask Dad and Melinda to drop me off at the airport after Melinda’s appointment with the neurologist. Then they could drive my car home, and I could be back in New York—back with Cole—in less than four hours, and then . . .
And then Dad and Melinda would be left to make sense of and apply whatever inevitably life-altering instruction they received from the neurologist. Dad would bottle up everything he was feeling. Melinda would put so much emphasis on caring for him that she wouldn’t take good enough care of herself. And I’d have added, “Please don’t forget to feed my cats,” to the burdens they were carrying.
I sighed and pulled the handle out of my suitcase so I could wheel it to— Ugh. Not to my car. I hadn’t thought about the fact that I hadn’t driven to the airport a week ago and therefore did not have a car waiting for me. I pulled my phone from my pocket and flipped it out of airplane mode so I could call my dad to pick me up.
“Hey there. Did somebody call for a Lyft?”
My eyes shot up from my phone. Twenty-four hours. I’d only gone about twenty-four hours without seeing him, and yet I could practically hear my heart sighing in relief. “What are you doing here?”
It doesn’t matter why he’s here, Laila. He’s here. First things first.
“What am I doing here?” Cole asked with a chuckle. “What are you—”
He released an “oof”-like sound as I rushed into him. I stood on my Converse-clad tiptoes and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, desperately needing a proper hug from him. A hug that helped me know that with New York Cole and Laila behind us, we were still okay. I needed to know that even if I was never going to be permitted to fully love him in all the ways I wanted to, we were in it together. Life. We were in life together, for as long as it lasted.
I clearly took him by surprise, but he adapted quickly and leaned into me, his arms around my waist. “You okay?” he asked against my ear.
“Yeah.” My chin bounced off his shoulder as I nodded. “I’m just so glad I got to see you. I’m sorry I didn’t fly home with you. I hate that we lost that time.”
“Laila?” The female voice behind Cole sounded familiar, but it wasn’t until I opened my eyes that I knew who it was.
“Cassidy?” Cole released me, and his mother and I hurried to each other. “That’s right! I forgot you were . . . I mean, I wasn’t thinking about . . .”
Sorry . . . wasn’t thinking about anything that wasn’t your son and how much I love him, and a little bit (okay, a lot bit) about how my brain just sort of melted and felt like it was going to ooze out of my ears when he was kissing me. So, tell me . . . How are you?
“Ready when you are, Cassidy,” Steve called out before climbing the steps back to the cockpit.
“I wish we had more time,” she said to me as she pulled out of our embrace, and then she reached out and grabbed Cole’s hand. He squeezed it and then leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “You keep in touch.”
He nodded. “I will.”
She gave his hand one last squeeze and looked over to me. “Both of you. Okay?”
I said, “Of course,” at the same time Cole said, “Pretty sure Laila has your email address.”
My eyes widened slightly and Cassidy winked at me, so I looked over at Cole and saw he was smiling. Some things had happened in those twenty-four hours, and something deep inside reassured me they hadn’t been all bad. That smile—warm and filled with humor and affection—reassured me things weren’t all bad. All the same . . .
“You’re not flying out?”
“I have some time.”
“Well, if you’re driving to Denver, you need to get going. You do realize you start work in Brooklyn tomorrow.”
“I’ve got it sorted out. Don’t worry.” He smiled and shrugged. “Like I said, I have some time.”
I shook my head and groaned. “I’m so happy to see you, but if you end up losing this job because I keep you here too long, do you know how guilty I’ll feel?”
“Good grief, Lai. Would you just relax? I do okay in Colorado, you know. I don’t need you to be my travel planner here, okay?” He put his hand over his eyes to look up toward the sun until the plane disappeared into the clouds, and then he reached out and took the handle of my luggage from me. “Now seriously, do you have a ride?”
I shook my head. “I guess I’m pretty hopeless on my own. I’ll have you know no one, not a single person, offered to wheel me through JFK on a suitcase this time.”
He tsked. “New Yorkers are so rude.” We stood there smiling at each other for a moment until he gestured over his shoulder toward the parking lot. “Come on.”
I savored a few minutes of silence with him as we drove into town. He and I had always tended to be pretty quiet together when we were driving. We always had things to say to each other. Never, in our entire lives, had we run out of things to say. But when it was just the two of us in a car, it had always seemed like just being—observing the world as it passed by, collecting our thoughts, sometimes listening to music but usually not, each of us relishing alone time together—was the most important thing we needed to communicate.
So when we pulled up to the old, abandoned, stone-exterior buildings on Main Street that used to house a credit union and, I think, a dry cleaners for a while, and about a million other things before the last tenants moved on about a decade ago, I didn’t have any idea what we were doing there.
“Have a few minutes for me to show you something?” Cole asked, his hand on his door handle.
“I’m all yours.”
I met him on the sidewalk and studied him as he pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. There must have been a million questions dancing in my eyes, but he just held the door open for me and ushered me inside. “After you.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in any of the suites, but a familiarity washed over me all the same. I knew exactly where the light switch was and reached for it but was still surprised when lights actually turned on. “Electricity’s still connected?”
“Electric heating.”
That explained it. It wouldn’t take long for an abandoned building to become a condemned one if everything was left to freeze during the winter.
I followed him in and looked around at the dusty corners, the broken chairs stacked against the wall, and the hideous lime-green wallpaper with orange and yellow flowers. Ultimately it was the wallpaper that jarred my memory.
“Oh my gosh, this was the beauty parlor!” I laughed as I spun around, looking at it all with new interest through the lens of nostalgia. “Has it seriously not been anything since . . . When did Fern move to Florida?”
“Yeah, 1995. That’s the last time there was a business in here.”
“Wow.” I continued walking around the small space, peeking my head into closets and blowing away dust on windowsills. “Remember when we saw this exact wallpaper on an old Brady Bunch episode?”
“I do.” He was still standing by the door, watching me. “I’m thinking of buying it.”
My eyes flew open and instantly darted around the space again to look at it from yet another perspective. “This unit? What, like, as an investment thing or something?”
“I guess you could say that.” He breathed in deeply and then let it out slowly as he scratched his jawline where his facial hair was growing back. “I’d sort of like to invest in you, Laila Olivet.”
I tilted my head and tried to make sense of what he was saying. “What are you talking about?”
“Come here.” He took a few steps in and grabbed my hand, then pulled me outside with him. We walked down to the next locked door in the plaza, which I was now recalling had housed a daycare back in the early aughts, and he opened it up and ushered me inside. He flipped on the light, and we journeyed farther in.
“I didn’t realize there was so much space here.”
“Yeah, neither did I.” He flipped another switch, illuminating another room in the back.
This suite was much bigger. Three or four times the size of the old beauty parlor, at least.
“I’m not sure if you remember, but this was the daycare—”
“Yeah, I remember that.”
He flipped on yet another light switch. “And it was where Juanita Marquez was preparing the meals for the hotshots and smokejumpers during the West Fork Fire back in, what . . . 2013 or so? And then she talked about opening a restaurant, and it just never happened.”
“Cole!” I planted my feet and grabbed his arm as he began heading toward another doorway. He stopped and turned to face me. “You have to tell me what this is all about.”
He looked up at the flickering fluorescent lights above our head. “I guess my grandfather had been secretly building some security into Adelaide Springs’s future for a long time. And I guess he was building some security into mine too.” He squeezed my hand before releasing it and then stepped back over to the doorway and leaned against it. “He owned this entire complex. And a lot of other properties too.” He looked back at me and shrugged. “Well, he and my mother, doing business as WECC Management Group, LLC.”
I squinted at him. “WECC?” I thought for a moment and tried to make sense of the letters.
“Yeah. William, Eleanor, Cassidy, and Cole. The letters weren’t capitalized in those first documents Doc had, so he pronounced it Weck.”
“Hold on. That doesn’t make any sense. He sold Cassidy’s . . . to himself ?”
Cole shook his head. “He didn’t sell it to anybody. He’d been methodically transferring all his personal investments over to the LLC for years, I guess, so that everything was separate and protected away from medical expenses and assisted-living costs and all of that. Grandpa’s personal lawyer didn’t even know. It was like he was two completely separate entities. And he almost got it all squared away before he died. The only thing that got lost in the shuffle was a new operating agreement for the LLC. It was dated October 1, the same date the deed for Cassidy’s is set to transfer to WECC.”
“And what was supposed to happen with the new operating agreement?”
He crossed his arms over his chest as his shoulders rose up to his ears. “I was supposed to become the managing member, if you can believe that.”
Of course I could believe that. I didn’t understand it, but I believed it. It took no convincing whatsoever for me to believe Bill Kimball had been stubbornly noncommunicative rather than intentionally cruel to his only grandchild.
“So you would have owned Cassidy’s.” I spoke the words softly, not in the form of a question but as a declaration. And even though the declaration carried with it layers upon layers of sadness and grief over the loss of an obstinate, frustrating old man, I mostly just felt grateful. So grateful that Cole could no longer question the magnitude of Bill’s love and respect for him.
“Yeah.” He sighed. “But since paperwork didn’t get signed . . .”
“I’m so sorry, Cole.”
“No, it’s okay. At least it’s still in the family.”
My eyes flew open wide. “Your mom owns it.”
“Crazy, right?” He looked up and ran his finger along the doorframe, then blew the gathered dust into the air. “She didn’t know much more than I did, though. This guy, Owen—he seems to be the only one with the entire roadmap. The rest of us just got random scenic routes to abandonment issues and confusion.” He laughed. Truly laughed. There was such a lightness to him that I’d assumed would never again be present in conversations about his grandfather. “But Owen was Grandpa’s property manager. Well, not just his. This is what Owen does, I guess. So while I had medical power of attorney, Owen was power of attorney on the business side, acting through his own company, Alpine Ventures.”
“And he was the one who made an offer on your house?”
“That was my mom. When Doc called her after seeing her name on the LLC paperwork he and Jo found, she remembered that, oh yeah, she had actually signed all sorts of legally binding paperwork.” Cole rolled his eyes indulgently. “Doc also mentioned that I was thinking of selling the house, and I guess within minutes, she had gotten in touch with Owen, learned that she owned half the abandoned property in Adelaide Springs, and had Owen make an offer to expand the portfolio.”
“Is she planning on moving back here?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think she just wanted to keep the house in the family too.” He rested his heel against the wall and leaned his weight against it. “Or maybe she wasn’t too convinced I wouldn’t change my mind down the road and want to come back.”
Everything felt so positive. Everything felt like it was heading in the right direction. But feelings sometimes lead us astray.
“So you could go back there, couldn’t you? I mean, to Cassidy’s. Your mom owns everything. Even the appliances and everything you sold. Right? And now that you know Bill never sold it out from under you . . .”
“I could. Yeah.” He pushed himself up with his foot and began surveying the dust over his head again. “There’d never been any plan except for Cassidy’s to be mine.”
“But hang on, then. Why did they buy the appliances from you? Why didn’t Owen tell you any of this when you called the night of your grandfather’s funeral?”
“Because I didn’t talk to Owen,” he responded with a chuckle. “I talked to some Alpine Ventures vice president who didn’t have a clue as to my grandfather’s wishes for Cassidy’s. He just thought he was getting a screaming deal and saving the firm a lot of headache and work down the road.” He looked at me and smiled. “Owen wasn’t too happy.”
“I bet not.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to say the last piece. To say that he was staying. To say that he’d already called Sylvia Garos and told her he was grateful for the opportunity, but this was his home. Cassidy’s was his restaurant. But he didn’t say anything. He just stared back at me, smiling gently but giving away nothing.
“You’re killing me here!” It finally burst out of me, and I laughed, if only to keep from crying. “What are you going to do, Cole? Are you . . .” I swallowed down the bitter taste of adrenaline and fear and maybe more than a little hope in the back of my throat. Right then, I was pretty sure it was the hope that was burning the most. “Are you staying at Cassidy’s?”
His eyes moved to my lips, trembling between my teeth, and lingered there before returning to my eyes. “No. I don’t think so. Owen tried to convince me, but in the end, I think this is a great opportunity for Adelaide Springs. I think it’s time for some fresh starts.” He took a slow step toward me, lowering his head to try to catch my eyes before they fell away completely. “Lai? Would you look at me?”
He took another couple steps and then reached his hand out to cup my cheek. A tear landed on his thumb, and he gently brushed across my cheekbone to gather up others that were pooling rather than falling. “Hey, I’m sorry. Don’t cry. I’m so sorry. Come here.” His hand slid into my hair, and he pulled me against his chest. I felt his heavy sigh as he deflated against me. “I’m sorry. I was trying to build into a moment. I didn’t realize you . . .”
He kissed the top of my head and then pulled back and tilted my chin up so my tear-saturated eyes had no choice but to look at him. “I thought maybe you’d want to open a little shop or something. In the old beauty salon.”
The crying halted abruptly. Even my tear ducts were confused. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Or you could do alterations, maybe? Seamstress stuff ?” His confidence and enthusiasm began to falter as he dropped his arms and stepped away from me. “Or not. Obviously I’m not trying to tell you what to do with your life. If it’s a stupid idea, forget it. I just know that you’re always getting compliments on everything you make, and people are always asking you to mend things for them. And I swear, Laila, you could make a fortune on those cargo pants alone. They’re, like, mugger-proof. But seriously, no pressure. I just thought—”
“You just thought you’d offer me a consolation prize?”
He shook his head, eyes wide. “No! Of course not.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? I actually love being a waitress.” I hated that I was picking a fight with him. I was keenly aware that I was picking a fight with him. That was not our way. But all my frayed emotions needed to be funneled into something, and anger was the nearest receptacle. “I’m a really good waitress.”
“I know you are.”
“Why wouldn’t Owen want to hire me?”
“I’m sure he will. I mean, he probably needs a chef before that, but—”
“So I’ll wait.”
Except I didn’t want to work at Cassidy’s without him. It wasn’t that I couldn’t carry on day to day without him. I could. I didn’t want to, but I could. But at Cassidy’s? Not a chance. Not when some of the greatest moments of my life had been helping Cole build Cassidy’s into what it should be. Without him, maybe it could still be great. But it wouldn’t be Cassidy’s.
And I’d never thought about selling clothes I made, but he was right. Maybe I should. Yes, I’d always gotten compliments from locals, but my cargo pants had also drawn the attention of a mom in Central Park, desperately searching through a stroller and a diaper bag and even some playground sand for her cell phone. If she was passing through Adelaide Springs, I bet she’d buy a pair.
But a generous, empowering, potentially genius idea from my best friend was, of course, powerless against a little brokenhearted stubbornness.
“I’ll keep on working at Cassidy’s.” I balled my fists and planted them on my hips. “But thank you.”
He nodded and looked down at his feet just as a smirk became evident on his lips. “That’s too bad.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out four tubes of lip balm. “I believe these are yours, by the way.”
I opened my hands to receive them in utter confusion. “Thanks?”
“My pleasure.” He headed back to the door and punched against the stone wall with the side of his fist. “You know, I was sort of hoping you’d come and work with me here.”
My lungs became immobilized, and I attempted to appear normal in spite of that. In spite of the hope and happiness (and fear of hope and happiness) that were beginning to stack on top of each other like Tetris blocks when it all starts going too fast and you know you can’t keep up anymore, so you just let them fall.
“Here?” My voice sounded so pinched. I would have to do better than that. “What do you mean work with you here?” Well, that was no good. The squeak had somehow gotten worse.
He turned back to face me, a huge smile on his face, and grabbed my hand to pull me through the doorway to the back room. “Okay, so I know it’s nowhere near as big as Cassidy’s, but there are the solid beginnings of a kitchen here. It’s already got all the fixtures in place. They need some updating, of course, but I think it could work.” He pulled me back into the main room. “And then I think we could seat about forty. Maybe forty-five. Again, not as much as Cassidy’s, but maybe that’s better. Make it sort of exclusive. Not pricewise, of course, but maybe after it takes off, and if people keep moving in—and especially during Township Days—maybe we take reservations. And then, look . . .”
He released my hand and hurried ahead to a separate room to turn on a light. “I thought this could be a private room for parties or meetings or whatever. We could probably get another fifteen to twenty people in here.”
He switched off the light, leaving me in the dark in more ways than one. And immobilization had made its way to my feet. I heard him still talking as he went back into the main room and began laying out his vision for outside dining at a patio he could build in the back, overlooking the canyon, but eventually his voice faded out.
“Lai?” Footsteps made their way back to me, and then he poked his head back into the side room. “Hey, sorry. Are you okay?”
“What’s happening?”
“I just think—”
“No, I mean, what’s happening? I need you to say the words. Are you not moving to New York? Cole, if you’re not moving to New York, you have to tell me. You need to say the words. I need to hear you say the words, Cole Kimball. No more messing around. No more building to a moment. Are you saying— Are you telling me— I need you to clear this up for me. Right now.” My lungs shuddered back to life and everything in me began trembling as one final word formed on my tongue. “Please.”
His eyes glimmered in the unlit room. “I’m buying this building from my mom. I’m opening a new restaurant. Here. In Adelaide Springs. I don’t ever want to be anywhere you’re not, Laila. Not ever. I’m in love with you, and apparently I always have been.” He reached behind him, without taking his eyes off of me, and turned the light back on. Just in time for me to see the twitch hopping around at the corner of his mouth. “Is that clear enough for you?”
Relief and joy—maybe as much joy as I had ever experienced—flooded through me, making me feel like I had the adrenaline to lift a car and the exhaustion to sleep for a week, before releasing in the form of choking sobs. His arms were around me then, and I was crying against his chest and breathing in broken, jagged, happy bursts. He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head and whispered calming words and held me tighter and tighter until my breathing regulated under the influence of his.
“What do you mean, apparently?”
He tilted his head back to look at me. “Hm?”
“Apparently you’ve always been in love with me.”
He laughed and tightened his embrace again. “Some friends of ours took it upon themselves last night to educate me. Apparently my lifelong obsession with you isn’t just normal friendship stuff. Who knew?”
I traced the muscles in his back with my fingertips, something I was pretty sure I’d never done before. Something my hands began doing without consulting my brain this time. “And that doesn’t freak you out?”
“Are you kidding me?” He chuckled. “It’s nice that everything finally makes sense for a change. Or at least it’s starting to.” He pushed my shoulders gently back and then ran his fingertips down my arms. “The only thing freaking me out right now, if I’m being honest, is that I’m sort of standing out here on the ledge alone. I mean, no pressure, obviously, but if you felt like returning the favor and, you know, bringing some clarity to the situation, I wouldn’t turn it down.”
“That’s fair.” I cleared my throat and attempted to swallow my heart back down into place as he reached out and delicately tucked a loose tendril of hair behind my ear. “I will give serious consideration to your generous offer to help me open a store or something. And yes, I will work at your new restaurant.”
He nodded and studied me. About ninety percent confident I was messing with him, I figured, but hesitant to prematurely close the gap across the last ten percent. “Good. Yeah, that’s good. That will help.”
“Well, you know.” I shrugged. “We make a good team.”
His eyes made their way to my lips again as his teeth brushed up against his. “That’s true. We do.”
“But yeah . . .” I stepped away from him and began walking toward the door, looking up at the outdated light fixtures. “Some things need to change.”
“Should I be taking notes?”
“It’s pretty simple for now.” I faced him again with a scrunched-up nose. “I don’t think being just friends is working for us anymore. It’s so . . . what’s the word?”
“Gauche?”
“Yes! Exactly.”
“But . . .” He took a step toward me, and I backed away from him. “I thought we weren’t allowed to use that term. ‘Just friends.’”
“I still stand by what I said. Nothing ranks higher than friendship. But I think if we’re gonna be all dernier cri about this—”
“I’m pretty sure you’re not using that properly at all.”
“—then it’s time to realize it’s okay to add stuff to friendship. Right?”
“Right.” The way he was looking at me, with tenderness and intensity, was setting my heart on fire. He took another step toward me, and this time my feet remained glued in place. “It’s like springing for all the extra packages when you buy a new car and getting that thing fully loaded.” Another step.
“Yes. Now you get it.”
He nodded slowly, and I could feel his breath against me as he bent his knees slightly and wrapped his arms around my waist. He pulled me against him again, and I took in the feel of him and the scent of him and as much oxygen as my lungs could hold.
“Are you done now?” He breathed the words into my ear before planting soft kisses on my neck, the beginning of a trail across my jaw, toward my lips.
In the last moment before he reached his destination—one of the last moments before my brain forgot how to form words—as my head rolled to the side, my neck unable to support it while Cole was leaving his trail of kisses, I whispered, “I love you. Always have, probably. Definitely always will.”
I felt him grin against me. “About time you figured that out.”
“Sorry . . . I was just building toward a moment.”
His lips were on mine then, and the desperation I felt to keep him there forever mingled with the peace and assurance of knowing that wasn’t something I would ever have to fight for. I looped my arms around his neck as he cinched me tighter and lifted me to him. Then he abruptly separated his lips from mine, leaving me disoriented.
“That’s three.”
“What are you talking about?” I puckered up my lips and tried to reach him again, but he was lowering me back to my normal height and walking toward the doorway.
“You know . . . your grandma Hazel’s rule of three. Three big, life-changing things, all at once. I’m staying, we’re opening a restaurant, and now this. Us. That’s three.”
He switched off the light and headed back into the future main dining room of the restaurant. Our restaurant.
“Except what about my shop?” I followed after him. “That should count as its own life-changing thing.”
“You haven’t officially said you’re going to do it.”
I shrugged. “Okay. I’ll do it. There. It’s official.”
Cole sighed. “Well, then that throws off everything.”
“I came home early. That could probably count.”
He shook his head as he backtracked to get a light he had missed. “No. Then we would have just done this on Wednesday.”
I laughed at his nonchalance about all the life change that had occurred in such a short period of time. “So we need one more?”
He rolled his eyes upward and appeared to be doing the math. “Or one less. I’m not really sure anymore.” He slung his arm over my shoulder and led me to the door and then released me to lock it behind him. “I guess we could go on a date or something.”
“As just us? No alternate personas? No pretense? No one-day-only rules?”
“Just us.”
“And you think a date will qualify as life-changing?”
He leaned down, right there in the open on Main Street in Adelaide Springs, and kissed me tenderly. “Yeah,” he whispered against my lips. “I think it might.”
He winked and grabbed my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “So have you eaten?”
“I’ll answer your question with a question: Have you cooked anything for me yet?”
“Fair point.” He opened the door of his Wrangler for me and gave me a gentle boost as I climbed up. “Are you in the mood for chocolate-chip pancakes?”
I put my hand out to him. “Have we met? Laila Olivet.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Olivet.” He grinned and took my hand, then raised it to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “Something tells me you and I are going to be very good friends.”