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“I could take a walk. Maybe not the whole loop around the lake though,” I say, looking at the wedge heels I’m wearing. They aren’t exactly made for two-mile hikes. On rocky terrain.
“Short walk. Got it.” Joe takes the lead, and I follow, finishing my shake as we stroll down to the lake and along the paved part that leads to a fishing pier.
It’s quiet. Not a lot of tourists are in town at this time of the year. Aside from an older couple walking their dog, we are on our own.
“I always forget how beautiful it is out here.” I walk up to the railing and take a deep breath, the clean forest air that’s blowing across the lake filling my lungs.
“It is. I didn’t realize how much I missed this.” His voice is thick, full of emotion and when I turn to look at him, I see it reflected in those beautiful eyes of his. They are staring right into my soul.
“Me too,” I breathe, unable to move, unable to look away.
“I missed you,” he whispers. His hand reaches up and tucks a strand of my unruly hair behind my ear. It lingers there, his fingers barely touching the back of my head.
Chills run down my arms and my spine despite the warm late-summer day. “I—”
He bends his head down, closing the distance between his face and mine. My eyes are drawn to his lips, to the cupid’s bow I’ve always loved.
I know exactly what this will feel like. I know what he tastes like. We kissed a million times over the years we were together. Part of me wants to experience it again. The old familiar but new and exciting after this long break. I’ve dreamed of kissing Joe again.
“I can’t. We can’t.” I don’t move, the words barely audible over the sound of the wind and the small waves lapping against the pilings of the pier.
“Okay.” His forehead touches mine, his fingers still wrapped around the back of my head. We stand there, hearts racing, unable to move, spellbound to the past and each other.
“Thank you,” I say when I find the strength to step back.
Joe nods and turns, making the short walk back to his car, me trailing behind, doing my best to convince myself this was the right call.
8
JOE
“I hope this isn’t going to make things weird between us,” Fiona says as I pull out of the parking lot and back onto the road that takes us back into Rockville and the house she grew up in.
“Don’t worry about it.” I pass a car taking its sweet old time in the forty-five zone.
“It’s just that I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to start something if we’re working together. Not that...” She turns her head and looks out the passenger window.
“It’s okay, really. You’re right, it’s probably not a good idea. Let’s enjoy our time being back home without getting carried away. We’ll do this movie and then see what happens. We’ve waited eight years. What’s another one?” I shrug, doing my best to keep the emotions roiling in my stomach out of my voice.
“Another one?” she asks.
“Just a figure of speech. You’re right. Dating again would make things more complicated at work. We’re getting ready to build a brand new team. It’s not going to look good when the director and the producer are in cahoots. There’s enough of that us vs. them without it.” I force an easy smile on my face, and we chat about our plans for the next few days, grateful when I see her house appear a few hundred yards down the road.
“Thank you for getting me out of the house. This was nice,” she says, turning to me as she unbuckles and reaches for her purse. Her vulnerable smile almost does me in.
“You’re welcome.” I don’t stop her when she opens the door and hops out.
“Joe, why don’t you come in? Join us for dinner,” her father calls from the front yard where he’s watering the gardenia bushes that surround the house, their sweet scent filling the car.
“Some other time. I have to get home.” It’s a lie. I need space. Time to think. I take the long road home and pull over at a spot that overlooks the rock formation over the lake, where the town shoots fireworks every Independence Day weekend. Aside from a guy fishing, the place is deserted.
I park in the shade of a large pine tree and close my eyes, my mind taking me back to the last time I was here.
It was the night of the Fourth of July. The summer before I left for college. The noise and sparks of the fireworks above us were nothing compared to the fight Fiona and I got into when I told her about the full-ride offer I’d gotten from the University of Southern California. And my intention of taking it, throwing our plans of going to school together in Wilmington to the wind.
The sun is low in the sky by the time I crank the car back up, the cool blast from the air conditioning helping me leave the past and what could have been behind.
“Joe, did you and Fiona have a good time?” my mother asks when I walk back into the house.
