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When I push the door open, I see her reading a book in bed wearing glasses, her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. I walk over to her, sit in front of her on the edge of the bed. We both look at each other. My eyes fill with unshed tears as she sets her book down and removes her glasses.
"Please, stop being mad at me," I beg. "I...I think I'm falling in love with him and I want to tell you about it."
There's a moment of hesitation before Mom's face softens and she leans forward, wraps her arms around me. I relax into her embrace, inhaling peaches and home and, finally, acceptance.
Chapter 29
I park along the busy street, silently hoping no one is offended by the giant balls hanging off the tailgate. Passersby seem too engrossed in conversation to notice Danny's truck is a sitting eyesore in their quaint, charming town.
Before getting out, I check the address one last time, make sure I'm at the right place. It's a two-story, light stone building. Lots of windows decorating the storefront, but no sign indicating what's going on inside.
I take a deep breath, run my fingers through my straight hair, step out onto the bustling street. My floral, yellow sundress blows in the gentle breeze and the tan sandals I'm wearing clack along the brick walkway, the rhythm matching the heartbeat blaring in my ears.
I don't think I've ever been this excited, or nervous, to see anyone before.
My hand grips the cool gold doorknob and I turn it, try pushing it open. It doesn't budge, clearly stuck on the floorboard. I shove it a little with my hip to get it open and stumble inside.
Oh my god.
Smooth, Jenny. So smooth.
There's a bell that rings overhead, alerting the receptionist sitting behind a black, sleek desk to my presence. I straighten out and walk over to her, hear the old wood floor creaking beneath my steps, echoing through the bright, open space.
She looks like a young Elle McPherson, and I try my best not to gawk at how beautiful she is.
"How can I help you?" she asks, her voice dripping like sweet honey. Her long blond hair reminds me of sunshine and daffodils and daisies. I try my best not to stare at how shiny it looks as the natural, afternoon sunlight hits it.
"I'm here to see Kyle," I tell her as I run my hand down the front of my dress, try to smooth out the creases from the drive.
"Jenny," I hear behind me.
My chest tightens when I turn, taking in the professionally dressed Kyle standing in front of me.
His dark hair, still in desperate need of a haircut, is slicked back and he's wearing a white, button-down dress shirt, the top two buttons undone exposing enough golden skin on his chest to make my insides clench with desire.
He pulls his hands out of his grey pants pockets and walks over to me, a crooked smile on his face.
At first, I'm pretty sure he won't kiss me in front of the gorgeous receptionist sitting conspicuously to my right. But when he reaches me, his arms go around my waist and his lips find mine. He kisses me hard and gentle and urgently and tenderly. My arms reach for his neck, drawing him closer to me.
When we break apart, he rests his forehead against mine. "I'm so glad you're here now."
"Me too," I whisper.
We hear someone clear their throat, making me blush a deep shade of fuchsia. Kyle keeps his composure as we both turn to face the woman who just witnessed our mini make-out session.
"Jenny," he begins, his voice deeper than usual. "This is Kelsey, events coordinator and part-time receptionist."
I turn to face her and hold my hand out. Her nails are painted bright red, and her skin feels like silk and Egyptian cotton and fleece as her hand glides into mine.
"Nice to meet you," Kelsey winks at me, making me feel a little less embarrassed. I realize, as I'm looking directly at her, she looks a little older than us, maybe in her late 20's. And there's a massive diamond on her left ring finger that screams taken. I mentally exhale.
"It's nice to meet you, too," I tell her before gazing back at Kyle.
"Come on," he smiles down at me, "let me show you why I asked you to meet me here."
His fingers wrap around mine and he leads me through the brightly lit space to the old staircase in the back corner of the shop. We climb it slowly, Kyle's hand never leaving mine. Our twined fingers fit perfectly together, like a key slipping into a lock.
He stops at the top of the stairs, blocking whatever's behind him from view. "Close your eyes."
