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“And you did. It’s impressive. And here I thought you were tinkering with toilets.”
“You thought I was a toilet tinkerer?”
“What was I supposed to think. You told me the lake house has a gutted bathroom and you’re rehabbing. In my head, that equates to toilet and tinkering.”
“I’m not a licensed plumber, so you’re right I can only tinker.” I needed to move off this topic. “I took a job working under a general contractor when I was nineteen. I learned everything I could. Two years ago, I started my own company. I brought one guy with me and we grew from there. We specialize, so we’re not in direct competition with the contractor we worked under. We refer customers to each other—it’s a good set up.”
Jillian trailed a finger through the grass. “And you’re happy?”
She didn’t look at me. I wasn’t sure if I could handle it if she did. “Uh…yeah. For the most part.”
Her gaze met mine. Hazel eyes with pupils deep black and soul-searching. Nope. Couldn’t handle it. I looked away.
Coward. This was my chance, my second chance. My opportunity to face her—really face her and be honest.
When I caught her gaze again, her attention hadn’t wavered. She was as beautiful as she’d ever been. I needed to go for it. “The last twenty-four hours is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”
9
Jillian
I shouldn’t have been shocked. I’d practically baited the man into telling me his feelings. Except he’d looked so uncomfortable after what came out of my mouth by the taco truck.
And now, here he was saying he was happy—no, the happiest he’d been in a long time. How long was a long time? Days? Months? Ten years?
I didn’t hate that he felt that way. I didn’t hate it at all.
Being here again in summer gave me definite nostalgia vibes, but something else brewed beneath. A deeper sense of Adam, and possibly a peek at what it might like to revisit…us.
Perhaps it was true about time and wounds healing.
But what did I do after healing? What would we become?
Live music started up at a stage nearby in that not-quite-loud-enough-to-sound-great-but-too-loud-to-talk-normally range. The loudness bought me a little time.
Which was now over. Adam looked at me intently. His lips looked…delicious.
“So, today’s been fun,” I said finally.
He grinned a shy grin as he picked at the grass. “Yeah. It has. It feels easier than I expected. Talking to you again.”
All day it had until now. It was like having studied the whole semester and then blanking out at the final exam.
Adam seemed to cringe at something. Hopefully due to the loud music and not my sudden absence of words. “Hey, do you want to get out of here?”
“Do I ever.”
He stood and held an arm out to pull me up. He thanked the couple next to us for letting us squat on their grass patch, and we deposited our trash in a nearby bin.
“Can we walk along the marina?” I asked. “I like examining the boats.”
He grinned. “Always examining.”
Growing up, my family visited Charlevoix at all different times of the summer, mainly whenever my parents could get the time off work. I’d been up here during the boat festival once or twice.
Adam’s arm brushed against mine. In a flash, I was fifteen again, dying for Adam to reach for my hand and—if I dared to dream, hold it. I’d obsessed over the fact he’d only ever see me as a friend and nothing more. Then at sixteen, when we’d walked this same path, hands entwined, summer with him felt like heaven.
I wanted to hold his hand right now. So bad. But reality check: this was nostalgia talking. I was literally coming off a major stage in life and shifting to the next. The ripest opportunity to make a dumb move like starting a fling with my ex-boyfriend.
