I set my fork down and thought about it properly, because she’d asked properly and she deserved a real answer.
“Like I stopped waiting for something,” I said. “I didn’t know I’d been waiting until I got there, and it stopped. First morning I woke up and just—sat with my coffee. No timeline. No brief. Nothing I was supposed to be preparing for. Just the river and the mallards and the light coming through the kitchen window.” I looked at her. “I hadn’t done that in what felt like forever.”
She had stopped eating entirely. Her fork was resting against the edge of her plate, and she was looking at me with an expression that made it difficult to remember what I’d been saying.
“That’s amazing,” she said quietly. “You’re at peace there.” She picked her fork back up and took a bite, still looking at me with that expression, the one she got when something had landed somewhere real in her. She was watching me in a way that made the room feel small and private. “What does the inside look like?”
“Small. One bedroom. The bed is pushed up under the window that faces the trees.” I turned the glass in my hands. “My grandmother made me a quilt before she died. It’s been on that bed since the first night I slept there.”
Something sweet and wistful moved in her face. “That’s a good thing to have.”
“It is.” I looked at the candle for a second. “There’s a small table by the kitchen window where I drink my coffee in the mornings. The mallards come to the far bank—there’s a pair that’s been coming all fall. I watch them from there. It sounds like nothing, but it’s become the part of the morning I look forward to most.”
She huffed a small, warm sound. “It doesn’t sound like nothing. It sounds wonderful.”
“There’s a couch I bought at an estate sale for thirty dollars. I’ve thought about replacing it probably a hundred times, and I never do. It’s too comfortable.”
She was quiet for a moment, her thumb tracing the rim of her glass. “When did you buy it?”
“A few years ago. I’d been saving money during deployments without really meaning to—there wasn’t much to spend it on over there. When I came back, I didn’t know what I wanted, but I knew I wanted quiet. I wanted to wake up somewhere that wasmine and hear nothing but the river.” I looked at her. “I found it on a Tuesday. I put in an offer the same afternoon. The realtor thought I was impulsive. I thought I had been patient for a very long time, and I was done waiting. I needed a place to put that quilt.”
She let out a slow breath. “That sounds beautiful.”
“It is.” I held her eyes. “I’d like to show it to you sometime.”
A small pause. “I can’t wait to see it.”
The words were out of her mouth before she had quite intended them. I watched her face register what she had just said. Her eyes went a little wider. She opened her mouth to walk it back, then closed it, then opened it again, and then just looked down at her plate.
“I mean—I just—that wasn’t?—”
“Cara.”
“I didn’t mean—well, Ididmean it, but I didn’t mean to say it like that. Out loud. On a first date. To you. About your bedroom.”
“I didn’t say anything about my bedroom.”
“You saidthe bedroom.You described the bedroom and the quilt. Don’t pretend you didn’t describe the bedroom.”
“I described thecabin.The bedroom was part of the cabin. There’s no version of describing the cabin where I leave out the bedroom, Cara. It’s a small cabin; there are like four rooms total?—”
“Jasper.This is just great. Now you know I’m awkward and can’t talk when I like someone. Oh, freaking great. Now you know I like you?—”
I was trying very hard not to laugh. I lost the battle. A small huff escaped me before I could stop it, and Cara made a protesting sound and put both hands over her face. I reached across the table and gently pulled one of them down, because I could not let her hide from me. Her fingers were warm. I kept hold of her hand.
“Cara. Look at me.”
She looked at me through her fingers. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes bright, and she looked so thoroughly undone that something in my chest went very warm and very still at the same time, and I knew I’d remember this exact moment for a long time.
“I like you too. Cards on the table. Anytime you want to come see the cabin,” I said, “you can come see the cabin.”
She dropped her hand from her face. “I’m not coming over tonight.”
“I don’t expect you to come over tonight.”
“I just want to be clear about that.” She pointed at me briefly with her free hand.
I was still holding the other one. I ran my thumb across her knuckles, slow, once. “Crystal clear. Anytime that isnot tonightthat you want to come see the cabin, you can come see the cabin.”
