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“And now Caleb’s the one who’s going to put an end to bachelorhood.”
I smile, grateful for his wry comment that marks a change of topic. “He does seem smitten with Lauren. At least so far. He crashed that fancy wedding to rescue her, so that means a lot.”
Dalton huffs. “That’s not all.” He glances over his shoulder to check through the wide windows that the couple we’re talking about can’t hear us. How could they, through the glass?
“What do you mean it’s not all?”
“Caleb told me that he wants to propose to Lauren.”
I snort on my sip of wine. “Already? Can’t the woman not be engaged for a while?”
He chuckles.
“Seriously?” I ask, giving in to a smile.
“Yeah. He sounds serious.”
“Well, if he’s building a home for them here and leaving New York for her, I guess that’s as serious as a man can get.”
“He told me she’s the One. As soon as the time is right, he’ll pop the question.”
“Aww….” I smile, thrilled for my friend. I stand by my joke, that she might appreciate the freedom of not being engaged for even a little bit, but that’s silly talk. When she was expected to marry Jeremy, it was a sentence, an obligation, a chore she wanted to avoid. She hated the idea of being Jeremy’s wife so much, she escaped twice.
If and when Caleb asks her to be his bride, it won’t be like that at all. They’re already so in love, content and satisfied that they share a match made and forged in love, not expectations. If he proposes, he’ll do so with his heart and wanting to make her happy, not driven to complete a transaction decorated with dollar signs.
But…
I sigh again, more wistfully as I muse about how perfect Lauren is for Caleb, and vice versa. Dalton releases the same long exhale, and I feel like we’re in sync there.
Wishful.
Dreaming.
Hopeful yet not.
We’re showing similar reactions that sound and look a lot like wistfulness. Or maybe it’s plain old envy. Dalton came close to going for what he thought was a happily ever after with this woman who cheated on him. He’s gotten near this utopic sensation of belonging with another half of your soul.
I haven’t. I’ve never tiptoed toward this consuming feeling of love. Since I was thrust into adulthood, my commitments have always been tied with obtaining perfect grades to maintain my scholarship money, working extra to eke out a living, and later, still bending over backward to be the best teacher I could be, even though it would never seem like enough to earn more like a decent living wage.
Deep down, I yearn for the solidity and security of a love match like Lauren has found. I’ve never taken much time to sit down and think about it all. I’ve been too busy to dwell on it. But here, in the quiet and slower pace of life in the country, farther from the hustle and bustle of the city, I realize how I’ve been missing out.
And Dalton seems to regret not having the relationship Caleb found.
If I were petty, I’d think it wasn’t fair. That Caleb and Lauren can find this when I—and Dalton—can’t.
We’re right here, physically together, but with our respective losses, we seem too far apart, so distanced with the danger of following our guarded hearts to risk going for what seems so unattainable.
Chapter 12
Aubrey
After the relaxing night away from the Goldfinch, I’m eager to get busy and sink my teeth into a project or two. Marian and Lauren don’t disappoint. An abundance of projects wait to be completed, and for a few days, I go to bed tired from the manual labor. First, I helped Marian transplant shrubs, bushes, and perennials for what will be a ‘you-pick’ garden for guests. Then to the other side of the property, I dug holes to start a little orchard, also an investment for guests who might be interested in seasonal activities. I’ve always been drawn to the outdoors, and these tasks are back-breaking, yet so enjoyable. If I could bottle up the vibe of pure sunshine, fresh air, and the sense of accomplishment that follows hard work done well, I’d be richer than Caleb and Dalton combined.
A small bit of rain derails our outdoor projects, but Lauren keeps me busy with a small paint job on the porch swing. It’s an older wooden swing that’s anchored to the ceiling. While it’s perfect for two people to sit on and lightly sway as they look out from the front of the house, it’s been needing another paint job. The last time it was done, the prep work wasn’t right, so I join my friend it redoing it properly now.
“I hear chatter about rain coming again,” Marian says as she sips iced tea, seated on the front steps. She’s got a cookbook and notepad in her lap, but I think she just wants our company while we’re out here.
“This last coat of paint will be dry soon,” Lauren replies.
