Page 46 of Call It Serendipity

“Now you tell me.”

I nudge him, and he leans into the motion, swaying away before coming back closer than before. For a moment, the scenic overlook we’re supposed to be here to enjoy falls away; it’s only Jake and his warm eyes staring up at me. They fracture in this light, too, a series of cozy browns I could get lost in.

“Can I ask you something?” he murmurs softly, his hand reaching out to toy with the thread of the blanket’s pattern.

I lean back on my elbows, too, and nod for him to continue.

“Have you been on one of these treetop dates before?”

It’s not quite what I expected, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a hint of reservation in his voice. I think of Taylor’s warning the other day—about the need to be careful with Jake. Has his heart been broken?

“I haven’t. My parents come every year though.”

He turns on his side, reaching for the thermos of coffee and two cups. As he fills one for me, he asks, “Any reason you haven’t? I find it hard to believe that no one’s asked to bring you.”

“Maybe you’ve noticed, but I’m not the most social butterfly.” I pause, smiling back at the way his lip lifts on one side. “And growing up in a small town like this, any time I started to date or get close to someone, it felt like I was trying to force a relationship with a guy I was already too familiar with. I figured if it was meant to be then it would have already happened.”

“Hmm, so you do believe in fate just a little bit.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” I sit up, accepting the coffee and plucking off another piece of sticky bun. “But I am an artist—I believe in love.”

“Maybe they go hand in hand.” He pours himself a cup as well, tucking the thermos away once more.

“Have you experienced either?”

A breeze kicks through, sending the edges of the quilt into disarray. Jake doesn’t pay it any mind, his attention still firmly set on me—as if I’m the view he ascended a mountain to see.

“I thought I experienced love a few years back, but it turned out she just loved my last name.”

“And here I thought that was your least appealing quality,” I tease.

He sets his coffee cup on the lid of the basket and shifts closer to me, until our legs rest against one another. “So you’re saying I have appealing qualities?”

I roll my eyes, brushing past my accidental confession. “You didn’t think that was fate back then?”

“I never did, no. A part of me always saw the writing on the walls because of that.”

“And now you’re waiting for the universe to give you a sign.”

Jake leans forward, leaving only inches between us, and reaches out to brush my hair back over my shoulder. His fingers skim the side of my neck, sending a chill radiating outward. He doesn’t reply, but I swear I catch a glint in his eye before he sits back once more.

He doesn’t need to say it; I feel it in his gaze.

Maybe it already has.

26

Iperch on the arm of the sofa and tap my paint brush against my chin. There’s something here, a real pattern unfolding. I’m just not sure what yet.

“This feels right,” I murmur to myself, tilting my head to the side and studying the scene on canvas.

Right, and heading down a path I’ve yet to understand.

But maybe I don’t need to understand. Maybe I just need to keep creating.

After another cup of coffee, though.

I set the brush on the edge of my paint palette and head downstairs. It’s quiet being here alone, and the stairs creak under each of my steps.