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“Indeed.” She takes another sip of her beer. “How are your parents?”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Good. Celebrated their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary in September.”
“Twenty-fifth?”
I nod.
“Wow. I should send them a card.” In a blink, her expression falls. “Or not. They probably don’t remember me.”
Without thinking, I reach across the table and lay my hand over hers. Warmth radiates from her skin to mine, a hum just beneath the surface. My breath catches in my throat as my eyes shoot to hers. She holds my stare, unblinking, and I know she feels it too. Our connection, but different from how it was years ago.
Against every instinct, I take my hand off hers and cup my beer. “They’d remember you,” I croak out, then clear my throat. I draw lines in the condensation on my glass. “How’s your mom?”
A gentle smile tugs at one corner of her mouth. “Great. She’s a farmer. Remarried about eight years ago.”
The server delivers our food and offers to refill our drinks, but we both opt for water. The table falls quiet momentarily as we eat. Returning with water and extra napkins, the server asks if we need anything else. We shake our heads and, after another wink at Kirsten, he walks off.
A few bites into my burger, I ponder over my next question. Consider if I really want to know about her relationship history. Because the moment the question leaves my lips, she will ask for the same in return. And I’m unsure if I want to share that piece of myself yet.
Kirsten and I were always open and honest with each other, even if the truth stung. But that was before life got complicated. Before either of us hit puberty and sex crossed our minds. Before our peers turned petty and our appearance mattered more than kindness. Before she moved away and my once familiar town became a foreign land.
Part of me is glad we missed those messy teenage years together. Lifelong friendships don’t always survive high school. Though I would’ve loved to have seen her change over the years, I might have bombed our friendship by thinking with my hormones instead of my heart.
“Earlier at the restaurant,” she starts, and I look up. “You asked if I had a boyfriend.”
Damnit.
“What about you? Is there a lucky lady in Smoky Creek waiting for you to return home?”
I swallow the bite of onion ring too soon and choke as the breading scratches its way down my throat.
“Oh my god.” Wiping her hands with a napkin, she rises from her chair and moves around the table. “Are you okay?”
Holding up a hand, I nod. I smack my chest a few times and dislodge the onion ring. My face flames with embarrassment as I sip my water. Kirsten returns to her seat, her body poised to leap from the chair at any moment. Sweat blankets the back of my neck, forehead, and cheeks as I calm my breathing.
“Touchy subject?”
I blink up at her as she tilts her head and studies me with curious eyes.
Something like that. “Not something I’m ready to talk about yet.”
Leaning back in her seat, she crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you seeing someone?” She lifts a hand to her necklace—the rose gold chain with a small crescent moon her dad bought for her tenth birthday—and slides the charm back and forth. “Because I don’t need some jealous Betty knocking on my door with a knife in her hand.”
“Jealous Betty?”
Her shoulders slump as she huffs. “You know what I mean, Benji. Women can be a lot more territorial than men. And significantly crazier when betrayed.”
Thank the gods, I’ve never experienced an insecure lover on a rampage. Though I’ve heard my share of stories from friends.
“No jealous Bettys, psycho Susans, or deranged Debbies will come knocking.” I laugh under my breath and she narrows her eyes. “I promise.” I turn somber. “Last woman I was with… we recently decided to go separate ways.”Okay, I guess I am talking about this.“She wanted things I wasn’t ready for.”
Emotion swells in my throat as a memory of Carolyn crying surfaces. Regardless of how much it hurts, breaking off our two-year relationship was for the best. The last month of our relationship was agony. I tiptoed around every word, every touch, every kiss, unsure how to act after rejecting the idea of living together. The entire time we were together, I knew Carolyn’s heart. Knew what she wanted her future to look like. Hard as I tried, I had difficulty getting on the same page with her.
Carolyn wants a big house bustling with life. A man to sweep her off her feet, kiss her senseless, and eventually put a beautiful ring on her left hand. She wants babies and messes to clean up after. Crayon-doodled family pictures stuck to the fridge with alphabet magnets. Family portraits hung in classy frames on the hallway wall. She wants to grow old with one person and celebrate golden anniversaries with friends and family.
Nice as her dreams are, I don’t share them. Not with her, anyway.
Idowant to grow old with someone, but I don’t want to settle. Much as I cared for Carolyn, our love didn’t make my heart beat out of my chest. It didn’t rob me of breath. Didn’t make me crave more. With Carolyn, I didn’t see or feel fireworks.
