Page 30 of Finding Forever

Dave looked toward the window, considering the question. “I liked dancing with Carol.”

The answer caused an unexpected ache inside Beth, but there was no jealousy in it. She liked that he’d loved his wife. There was something reassuring about knowing he’d once loved someone enough to take dancing lessons simply because she’d wanted him beside her.

Beth understood that kind of love.

“Jessie and I never took lessons,” Beth told Dave. “We danced in the kitchen instead, usually while I was trying to make dinner. Jessie would turn up the radio, take whatever I was holding out of my hand, and pull me against him.” She hadn’t thought about that in a long time.

“You miss it,” Dave said quietly.

Beth watched the snow drift beyond the window. “Yes.” The word didn’t hurt as much as she expected. Perhaps because Dave understood that missing someone wasn’t the same as being unable to move forward.

After a moment, Beth looked back at him. “I think I miss having someone special in my life more than anything.”

Dave didn’t interrupt.

“Not for the important things,” she added. “Just the ordinary ones. Someone to tell you you’re out of milk. Someone who already knows why you’re annoyed before you’ve finished explaining it.” Her fingers tightened around the warm mug. “Someone sitting across from you while you eat lunch.”

Dave’s gaze held hers. “Someone to steal your fries?”

Her smile came slowly. “Even that.”

For a few seconds, the sounds of the diner seemed to fade around them.

“Yeah,” Dave said softly. “I miss that, too.”

It wasn’t a declaration. Nothing had changed, and yet somehow something had. Beth looked at him across the Formica table, an empty soup bowl between them and snow falling outside, and understood what she’d been trying very hard not to examine too closely.

This was what she missed. Not flowers, candlelight, or grand romantic gestures.

This.

Someone beside her.

Someone who knew how she took her coffee. Someone who enjoyed singing to songs that were forty years old, stole her fries, and made a long drive through falling snow feel much too short.

Someone she could sit beside in silence without needing to fill it.

Beth had spent years proving she could build a good life on her own. And she had. That was what made the realization so unsettling.

Because sitting across from Dave, Beth wondered for the first time whether being perfectly capable of living alone was the same as wanting to.

Chapter 19

The fireplace had been hidden for more than eighty years. Dave still couldn’t understand why anyone had covered it.

He stood in the main events room of the arts center, studying the stonework that he and Hank had uncovered that morning. At some point, someone had built a stud wall across the entire section, leaving no clue that anything interesting existed behind it.

Now, with most of the drywall and framing removed, the original fireplace was visible again. Dust coated the hearth, and several of the stones had loosened around the opening. The old wooden mantel had disappeared years ago, leaving a row of fixing holes in the stone. But the proportions were good, and the craftsmanship was better than anything they could afford to reproduce.

Hank ran a stiff brush across the mortar joints. “Beth’s going to love this.”

Dave smiled. “She will.”

Beth hadn’t seen it yet. She and Natalie were at a meeting with the council’s community development committee, going over the requirements for the center’s opening. They weren’t expected back until late afternoon.

For once, Dave was grateful. He’d been thinking about Beth far too much since Cedar Ridge, and having her in the building would only make it worse.

Hank glanced over his shoulder. “You two looked pretty cozy when you got back on Saturday.”