“Lunch will be ready soon,” I said. “Can I get you something to drink? I don’t have anything homemade to offer you, but I have some wine… Red… White…”
“White? If you have a Pinot…” Longing eyes drifted to the deck overlooking the valley. “Can we sit outside?”
“To answer your first question, I have a local Pinot Grigio you can try. As for the second, I’ll leave it up to you to pick a nice spot for us… I’ll only be a minute.”
That minute ended up being five. I bent over the sink, sucking in air, trying to calm my nerves enough to get the bottle of wine open. It was only a damn screw top, but the sweat on my palms made getting the lid off almost impossible.
It wasn’t my cock talking—although that appendage wasn’t helping the situation. My heart thumped in my chest, pounding faster seeing Lola’s things in my space, watching her fingers skim the wooden table I’d made, and hearing her contented hum when she flopped on the outdoor lounge. I loved her being there.
Don’t screw this up, idiot. This can’t end like last time.
After grabbing the bottle of wine, two glasses, and a rushed platter of cheese and crackers in my hands, I wrestled enough control back to head outside.
“Ruth sent me three pictures of potential locations for the Games Night trophy,” Lola said, reaching for the wine glass when I offered it to her.
“Yeah? Which spot did you choose?”
“The shelf above her potted herbs. You?”
“The entry table. That way she can crow about it whenever someone stops by for a visit.”
Lola grinned. “A solid suggestion.” Her eyes darted to the side. “And, um… not to become the next church lady or anything, but…”
I sank onto the lounge beside her. Notrightbeside. A gap. Arespectablegap. But close enough to smell her familiar coconut shampoo and whatever new perfume she wore.
“But?” I prompted.
“Imayhave spotted a hat on her dining table in one of the photos.”
“A hat, huh?”
“Mmhmm. A hat that looks suspiciously like the one Ryan Hollyoak wears sometimes.”
“You don’t say.”
“I don’t. I’m onlythinkingI saw it there.” She zipped her lips. “I won’t be telling a single soul other than you.” Her eyes drifted back over the valley. “I’m happy for them.”
“Me too.”
A comfortable silence settled between the two of us. There was never any pressure to fill the quiet with too many words. With a faint smile on her lips, Lola sipped her wine, twirling the glass in her fingers as she gazed over the rolling grass and tufted treetops.
Being with her was so effortless. Too easy. Dangerously familiar.
I ruined it all.
“It was my fault,” I said.
Lola’s head turned, a crease between her pale brows.
“Ruth’s accident was my fault.”
Staring at the mole dotted on my thumb seemed easier than looking at Lola after blurting out my darkest secret. She set her wine glass down with a clumsy clink, but she didn’t bolt for the door. She edged closer on the lounge until her jeans pressed against mine.
My gut clenched in a tight knot. WhywasLola still sitting here? I slid a wary glance to her. Why did she push up her glasses and smile at me so sweetly instead of storming off in disgust? Sheshouldstorm off. That was the reaction I was waiting for. That was the one I deserved.
Lola’s hand squeezed my knee. “Lost in your thoughts again?”
I hid the surprise of her touch by shrugging.
