Page 99 of Blue Jean Summer

“Can’t say I’ve ever met a woman who didn’t like bread, cheese, or chocolate.”

“That’s because she would be a traitor to the sisterhood,” Catherine said with a laugh as she toed off her boots and joined me on the blanket. “This looks amazing.” Her lips curved in a smile when she saw the bottle in my hand. “And you brought wine for me?”

“No glasses. I didn’t want them to break.”

“I’m not above a plastic cup or drinking from the bottle,” she said as she tore open a crusty baguette, layered it with a slice of cheese, and took a bite.

I didn’t care about the wine. I didn’t care about the chocolate. Her eyes held my attention, and she wasn’t even looking at me.

“Something on your mind?” Catherine asked as she found the corkscrew and opened the bottle of wine.

I stole a piece of chocolate. “Just enjoying the peace and quiet.”

“I bet it’s a lot different than Bethesda,” she said between bites.

“Somewhat.”

Catherine cocked her head, leaving the door open for me to elaborate if I wanted to.

Frankly, I never wanted to elaborate. But with her, I couldn’t help myself. “Bethesda never felt like home. Not like this.”

“How long did you live there?”

“Quite a few years, actually. But with the commute, my car felt more like home. I bought my house just a few years ago, but didn’t live there much before Granddad passed away.”

Catherine’s eyes darted to the mountains. “Right…because you were…engaged.”

The small shard of chocolate between my fingers began to melt. I popped it in my mouth and reached into the picnic basket for a napkin. “My engagement isn’t taboo, Cath. I asked you to marry me so I could keep some land. I don’t think anything will ever be taboo between us.”

“It’s not just ‘some land.’ ”

Those five words were one of the reasons I loved her. She understood that it wasn’t just some fields and a big house.

Instead of waiting for Catherine to ask, I offered what she was curious about. “Her name is Lynn. We met through mutual colleagues, dated, and had a short-lived engagement. I moved into her place, which, in hindsight, made it easier to leave.”

Catherine looked down at the baguette in her hands. “Why did it end?”

“We were incompatible.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You say it so…clinically.”

I shrugged. “It’s what it felt like. It was convenient, but it was never comfortable. Never…” It was never like this. But I didn’t say that part out loud.

“It was her life, and I was just living in it,” I said. “It was like trying to put puzzle pieces in the wrong place, even if they’re from the same picture. After I proposed, it became clear that I was trying to force a relationship to work that just…didn’t. I don’t hold any ill will toward her. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Did you want it to work?” she asked.

I took my time thinking it over, but Catherine never rushed me. She never huffed or looked inconvenienced. She simply waited.

“I think I wanted to prove to myself that I could make it work. That I had the potential to be a good husband. A good partner.” I offered a warped smile and muttered, “She and I disagreed there.”

Catherine’s expression turned sour.

“I was trying to convince myself that I could have what my grandparents had,” I admitted. “What my parents had. That lifelong love. I wanted to build something together. She wanted different lives under the same roof and same last name. I thought I wanted that, but it just made me feel alone in a relationship. When it ended, I was numb. It was just…over.” I shook my head. “Anytime I’ve lost someone, they came back in some kind of way. When we buried my parents in the rose garden, the minister said that grief is the ghost of love. I was hurt when Lynn gave the ring back, but I wasn’t haunted.”

Catherine looked down at the ring on her hand. “You might not hold any ill will toward her, but I sure as hell do. And I kind of hate that she got to wear this. It’s too pretty for that kind of ugliness.”

“She never wore that ring.”