“The day I made you spit coffee everywhere?”A smile tugs at her lips.
“Yeah, that day.”I thread my fingers through hers as we head to the door.“I want to take you back there.Show you something I’ve been working on.”
“What kind of something?”
“A project.”I can feel my palms starting to sweat.“Photography.It’s personal.And no one’s seen it yet.”
Her steps slow slightly.“Silas?—”
“I know it’s weird.I just...”I stop on the sidewalk outside Sweet Persuasions, turning to face her.“I’ve been thinking about what you said.About not being able to see yourself the way I see you.And I thought maybe if I showed you how I see Here—the place you couldn’t wait to leave—maybe you’d understand why I...”
I trail off before I say too much.
“Why you what?”she asks quietly.
“Why I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”Why I’m falling for you even though we want completely different things.
She holds my gaze for a long moment.Then: “Okay.Show me.”
Bailey
Silas’s officebuilding is four blocks from Sweet Persuasions, and he keeps our hands linked as we walk away from the cafe.
In public.On Main Street.Where anyone could see us.
My heart does this weird flutter-panic thing, but I don’t pull away.It’s early enough on a Saturday morning that the streets are mostly empty—just us and a few tourists making their way toward the slopes.Anonymous enough that maybe this is okay.
Or maybe I just don’t want to let go.
There’s a new sign in the town square advertising a farmers market.
“I didn’t realize there was a farmers market,” I say.
“One Saturday a month, May through October.”He squeezes my hand.“You should come sometime.Kit’s friends from Fork Lick have a booth.They have the best strawberry milk.”
You should come sometime.Like I’m going to be around for strawberry season.Like this is something that could be normal—weekend visits, farmers markets, holding hands in public.
“How long has it been since you’ve walked down this street?”He doesn’t give me time to answer, and instead lifts his chin to indicate the shops before us.“Does it look the same?”
Okay, he has me there.Main Street is cuter than it used to be.Despite the fact that Sirens Valley is closed most of the year, businesses still manage.The Trans’ restaurant has been here for over twenty years, and got renovated recently.I don’t remember there being a bike lane down one side of the street before, and the lamps are new, solar-powered and freshly painted.The wrought-iron posts also hold banners that proclaim “You Belong Here,” each one a different, vibrant color.
“No, it doesn’t.”
And that’s...unsettling.I left Here behind like it was a place frozen in time, a snow globe I could shake and put back on the shelf.But it kept going.It got better without me.
It’s not the town I ran away from anymore.And I don’t know how to feel about that.
On this side of the street, we’re passing businesses that’ve been here for ages: Parthenope’s Pies, of course, plus The Sisters Gifts and the liquor store.There’s a real estate office—one of Silas’s competitors.
The listings taunt me with their prices—what I pay for my cramped one-bedroom in the city could buy a whole house here.With a yard.And a garage.
“Speaking of people who enjoy the new downtown.”Silas’s hand drops from mine.
I force myself to look away and see him nodding ahead of us.
Janet Mullins is headed our way.In her seventies, Janet’s a petite white woman with curly hair cut short.She’s retired now, but for thirty years she was the sixth-grade teacher for all of us.
Miss Mullins is wearing a set of open-ear headphones, and when she spots us she taps her watch.“My goodness, is that Bailey Price?”She reaches her hands out to me and I take them, because that’s what you do for old ladies.“I heard you were at the bar last night but I was helping Mary with her computer.Let me look at you.”Miss Mullins grips my hands and holds my arms out from my body.
