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“I won’t say anything.” Rowan’s wife looks pleased as pie as she slices that pepper, cutting to the quick just like she did with me. “But you should tell Tess how you feel. She might not want you to leave either.”
My gut swoops.
Imagine it, a voice whispers in my head.
Another mountain cabin, cozy and pine-scented among the trees; another easy conversation as we make dinner together. But instead of Evie at my side, it’s Tess chopping veggies; Tess teasing me and shooting me quick smiles. Tess with that heat-frizzed ponytail, maybe still in her black polo shirt from Flint’s, my ring sparkling on her finger and her belly swelling with our child…
When I clear my throat, it’s dry as hell. “Rowan,” is all I can say.
Evie blows out a dismissive breath, flapping her knife before pulling another pepper close. The kitchen light glints against the blade as it thuds against the chopping board. Thud, thud, thud.
“You should give him more credit. Rowan would be fine.”
“She’s his little sister.”
Evie scoffs. “Since when is twenty five little?”
And… that’s fair. Tess is grown and she can make her own decisions. But my best buddy was lost in his head for so long, lost to me for so long, and all that time I waited and worried, completely powerless to help my only chosen family.
Can’t go through that again—and I definitely can’t be the thing that makes Rowan snap. Couldn’t live with myself, and I know Tess couldn’t either. This thing between us is doomed.
“‘M going soon anyway,” I say, snatching blindly for another onion. Evie sighs, and when I glance over, her shoulders are slumped. She chops a growing pile of veggies, thoughtful and melancholy, and even though we don’t know each other that well, I really hate disappointing my buddy’s wife.
But this isn’t like her and Rowan. This isn’t some fairy tale where we meet, and sparks fly, and everything winds up happy and neat. After each of us spending most of our adult lives alone and lonely, Tess and I know better than to expect a story like that.
Besides, this is crazy talk. Sure, Tess seems drawn to me too—and what a beautiful miracle that is. But a fleeting attraction is very different from wanting a person to stick around forever, and I can’t see her ever asking me that. Meanwhile, taking matters into my own hands would be the worst kind of presumption, and I’d rather die than make Tess feel uncomfortable.
“It’s complicated,” I tell the mound of papery onion skins. Don’t know if I’m trying to convince Evie or myself more, but she hums and says nothing.
The tomato sauce bubbles in its pan.
* * *
Dinner is the sweetest kind of torture, because Tess is here again on Rowan and Evie’s deck, so close yet so far. She laughs and chats and steals shy glances at me, all while her foot jiggles nervously beneath the bench seat.
I hunker in my own wooden chair, tongue-tied and stupid, shoveling enchiladas past my lips and not even wincing when the hot cheese burns the roof of my mouth.
This is good. Any distraction is welcome—any sensation that is not this persistent, terrible ache for Tess is a boon. Cheese burn is a gift right now.
Stars glitter in the night sky above, and fireflies drift between the trees. It’s cold with the sun gone, and when Evie and Tess start shivering, Rowan fetches them each a blanket from inside the cabin and wraps it around their shoulders.
“Soon,” Evie says, smoothing one hand over her bump. “She’s coming soon. I can feel it. I know I say that every day, but I really mean it this time.”
Rowan gazes at his wife like she’s the center of his universe. And it’s good food and good company beneath a crystal clear sky, but when Tess finally stands up and hugs her hosts farewell, I’m frayed to the last thread of my patience.
The mountainside tilts as I lurch to my feet, the stars blurring into lines. “I’ll walk you home.”
Tess blinks at me owlishly. “There’s no need.”
But Rowan claps me on the shoulder on his way to take our plates inside. “Good man. Call me if you get lost on your way back up. It’s not that far.”
“Sure.”
We leave the cabin in silence, winding our way down the mountain trail, moonlight filtering through tree branches and casting everything in a silvery sheen. Pine needles rustle in the breeze, and a wolf howls somewhere far in the distance.
This landscape is beautiful—but only a fool would underestimate it.
Tess shivers, wrapping the borrowed blanket tighter around her shoulders, her dark ponytail swishing in front of me with each step. “I always forget how freaking cold it gets up here. Even in the summer.”
