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He stared at her, his eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”
She picked up her glass of champagne. “Come on, look at you. You’re nice, you’re funny, you have a plan for your life. You’re good-looking, you can cook, you like dogs. Why aren’t you married with a couple of kids?”
She expected him to laugh or distract her, but instead he exhaled slowly.
“I haven’t found someone I can fall in love with.”
The blunt, honest answer surprised her. “Not ever?”
“Not in a while. I had the serious girlfriend I told you about, in high school. We talked about getting married, but when that didn’t work out, I took some time to think about what I wanted in my life. I dated a fair amount, but I never felt . . . sparks.”
“You’re not talking about passion, are you?”
“No. The other kind. I liked the women I went out with, but there wasn’t anything special. No sense that any of them could be the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t expect to hear angels singing, but an old-fashioned kick in the gut would be nice.” He shook his head. “Maybe I’m a fool, but I want the woman I marry to leave me thunderstruck, at least once. I want sparks, and I haven’t felt that.”
He was perfect. Okay, not perfect-perfect, but so incredibly right about so many things. How was she supposed to not throw herself at him and beg him to feel sparks with her?
“Tell me more about the high school girlfriend,” she said instead, because it seemed a much safer topic of conversation. “What was her name?”
“Cori. We were in love. Young, but we knew it was serious, and we had plans. I was going to join the army while she went to college. We were so sure we were going to make it.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.” He shrugged. “About two years in, she told me that she liked living in a big city and that she didn’t want to go back to Wishing Tree. Not ever. Not even for me.”
Shaye knew that would have crushed him. “You, on the other hand, wanted to settle here.”
He nodded. “It wasn’t just about geography. I want to say she changed, but I’m sure it was both of us. The last time we saw each other, we didn’t fight. We didn’t anything. Whatever we’d had was gone.”
“I’m sorry.”
He smiled. “Thanks. I was sorry at the time, but looking back, I know we made the right decision.”
“That’s when you decided to figure out what you were looking for?”
“Uh-huh. Then I started dating.” The smile returned, but this time it had a touch of sadness. “I figured I’d find someone in a matter of months. But I didn’t.”
“You’re not giving up, though.”
“No. I’ll keep looking. I want to give my heart to someone special. Like I said, old-fashioned, but there we are.”
Kathy had talked about things being old-fashioned, as well.
“Sometimes being traditional is a good thing,” Shaye told him. “There’s a continuity that can be comforting.”
“So what about you? Before the jerk you told me about. Anyone special?”
“Not special enough.”
“Are you giving up looking?”
She stared into his brown eyes. If he could be honest, then she could, as well. “No, I’m not.”
They talked all through dinner. The meal was delicious, and the prosecco grapes were the perfect sweet ending to the meal. Shaye was very impressed with the thought and planning that had gone into everything. As the evening progressed, The Wreath filled up. By seven, all the tables were filled. Their little section of the circle was quiet and surprisingly romantic.
When they’d finished eating, Lawson tugged her to her feet and drew her to the dance floor. His arms came round her, pulling her close. She went willingly, surprised at how well they fit together and how good she felt being so close to him. There was a sense of . . . she wasn’t sure what. Belonging, maybe. She definitely felt safe, which was a wonderful sensation after being alone for so long.
Lawson was solid. He was physically strong and emotionally disciplined. He had a moral code she understood and respected. But he was also charming and way more open about his feelings than any other guy she’d ever known. She liked him. She liked him a lot, and while that should have scared her—for some reason it didn’t. Not even a little.
