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My heart pitter-patters. My body is frozen, perfectly still. Realization floods me:I love him.
This knowing is so sudden, so consuming, that for a little while I can think of nothing else.
My mind’s filled with love.
It’s crystal clear. Almost like a flag is in my face, a message printed across it:You love Nicholas Landry.
And… of course I do. I have since college.
I watch him bend down, adjust a strap on the side of his boat.
My heart feels like it’s bursting. There’s no aching or pain, only expansive, warm energy that rushes through me, filling me from my toes up.
The warm-and-fuzzies, times a million.
I love him, and I have for a very long time.
Nothing else matters.
Not really.
He rocks back to his heels and looks out at the water. I watch his arms, his strong frame, his tight waist. His chin lifts. He peers out at the trees across the pond. A flock of birds rises up and flutters off toward the setting sun. The warm glow of fading sunlight covers Nick. He looks golden, luminous, and perfect.
And then… Hana Chen appears, from the right. She’s tugging an orange kayak along behind her, on the trimmed grass near the shore. Nick hurries to her and gives her a hand. They stand there, face to face, conversing for a moment. His head is bowed, her arms crossed.
A fight?
I don’t know.
All I know is that they are together, on the shore of the water, with their two boats, and I’mhere. On the road. Unseen, not even in the picture.
I don’t belong here.
Hana motions out to the water.
Nick shrugs.
Hana talks some more. She’s always been so good at talking. At performing. At putting on a show.
I watch her gesture to his boat, then to hers, then out toward the water. Nick nods, then squats down near her boat and slides it gently into the water. He holds it steady while she steps in.
He hands her a paddle. When he gets into his own boat, it rocks a little, sending out ripples on the pink-peach water.
They look like the picture of happiness as they paddle out toward the setting sun together.
They make sense.
In big, important, practical ways, they fit.
I am the outsider.
I am the wrench in the plan.
I am chaotic, with a messy, uncertain life. I am so very out of place here.
With a gentle tug of Outlaw’s leash, I reverse course. The trees overhead form a thick tunnel again. The downhill pitch makes my knees sore. I walk fast, almost a run. After I’ve put a few twists and turns between me and that perfect couple up on the pond, I start to cry.
Chapter 27
