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He exhales a soundless laugh. “So now the bastard’s dead, and no one but you knows that I threw a celebratory party of one.”
Giving in to instinct, I grab his hand, threading our fingers together. “I wish I’d been there. I definitely would have celebrated with you.”
“I know.”
He squeezes my hand, then lets it go. I curl my fingers in my lap, ignoring a flash of hurt.
“Tell me what you’ve been up to all these years.”
His voice is back to normal, if polite interest is normal. Which it isn’t—not for us. I’m both grateful for and annoyed by his newfound mastery over emotion.
I attempt to match his tone. “Not much besides being a mom and working. The early years were rough, but I had help from my parents and Jeremy’s family. Once I had my feet under me, I got my bachelor’s online.”
“Art?” he asks, perking up.
“Business Admin.”
He nods, looking away. “That makes sense. You still want to take over Main Street Flowers?”
The truth pops out of me. “Not really,” I admit in a near-whisper. “I don’t know.”
“Hey, that’s okay. You don’t have to know what you want to be when you grow up, remember?”
I roll my eyes. “Says the man who had boatloads of family money to launch himself in the world.”
He hums and drains his bottle. “I didn’t take any, actually. Even when they offered. I worked my way through school and paid back my loans.”
It shouldn’t surprise me. He’d worked as a cook at Annie’s throughout high school. Jeremy and I never understood why he did, when his parents were rich. He always blew off our questions about it.
But I understand now.
“You wanted to be better than him,” I say softly.
“I guess.”
“Well, you are,” I tell him firmly. “He never reached the level of success you have. Not even close.”
A brow tilts my way. “Oh, yeah? You looked me up, huh?”
Unable to maintain eye contact, I stare at a nearby garden statue. The little girl holding an umbrella is over thirty years old and eroded by time.
Just like me.
“Of course I did, Lucas. Just because we weren’t friends anymore didn’t mean I wasn’t curious. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.” I pause. “Except for the exploiting of small towns and their meaningful, historic properties.”
He groans. “Come on. You don’t care about that place. When was the last time you were up there, anyway?”
“Damien’s fourth grade class had a campout.”
“Celeste, if I don’t develop it, someone else will. And I can almost guarantee it won’t be a company that specializes in sustainable building practices or low environmental impact. They’ll clear-cut all the trees and either leave the area to erode into the lake or slap a giant hotel on it.”
“I know,” I murmur. “I guess I didn’t realize how much the place meant to me until I started thinking about it being gone forever.”
Lucas shifts toward me, his knee pressing to mine. “Damien has school tomorrow?”
I nod, frowning at the shift in topic. “He has another week before they let out for summer.”
Our shoulders bump. “Come up to Wild Lake with me. We can walk down memory lane together and say goodbye.”
