Page 158 of It Should Have Been You

When he climbs on, I hold his shoulders and sit behind him.

In an instant, I go back in time. By how his body tenses, I know he’s back there too.

He squeezes my hand when I wrap it around his waist. “Ready, pretty girl?”

“Ready.”

Thirty-Six

Logan

Life has a twisted sense of humor.

This same woman was on the back of my bike ten years ago, and looking back, we were riding into an unknown future. Now here I am, taking her on a date. Even if I tell myself it’s as her friend.

I’ve decided to write that word on a piece of paper later and burn it.

With her here, I can’t help but wonder how things would have been if our timing was different.

I guess I’ll never know.

Tonight, it doesn’t matter because tonight I have her all to myself, and that’s what matters.

Fuck everything else. Fuck the questions I’ll never have the answers to.

Twenty minutes after leaving the house, we’re on the peak of the mountain with the sun just setting in the distance. The violent torrent of the waterfalls makes it hard to hear my thoughts, but looking at Beth, I see the amazement in her eyes as we climb the steps to the restaurant.

“This place is incredible. How have I lived here for three months and not known about it?”

“You haven’t gone on a date.”

She glares at me as I take her hand.

Inside the restaurant, the open-concept kitchen is partially visible, offering glimpses of skilled chefs preparing dishes of fresh, local ingredients. The bar features a polished concrete countertop. Reclaimed wood walls and floor-to-ceiling windows create a natural charm that has made it popular with tourists all year round.

But it’s the artwork and portraits from local artists lining the walls that catches Beth’s eye.

“Your photographs could be up there.”

Her cheeks flush pink. “Not likely.”

“Why not? I’ve seen your work.”

She shakes her head, still focused on the art. “I haven’t photographed anything but my children in a really long time. I still love to see other’s work, though.”

With a flash of sorrow in her eyes, I decide not to press the issue. Not yet at least.

A moment later, we’re greeted by the hostess. “Welcome, Mr. King.”

Beth nudges me and raises an eyebrow, intrigued by the attention we’re receiving. “Mr. King? Do you come here often?”

I chuckle, escorting her through the restaurant. “You could say that.”

Her face pales, and I immediately realize how it sounds. “I’ve never taken anyone else here on a date. It’s not that.”

Another flush of her cheeks and her eyes cast to the ground to hide it, but I catch it before she can.

We’re led to the best table in the house, a prime spot overlooking the waterfalls. Beth’s eyes widen as she takes in the breath-taking view, and she turns to me, her curiosity piqued. “It’s incredible in here.”

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