Page 27 of Heart of Gold

He nods, but uncertainty creeps onto his face.

Another reason Burke is perfect. He didn’t question me going to dinner with another man, or that he’s staying on my property. Burke lets me be me.

Still, I don’t tell him how I tossed and turned all night. How I got up at two a.m. and checked the tiny house from my window, seeing the lights on. How my stomach won’t stop grinding and tightness in my chest won’t go away.

Twenty minutes to go.

* * *

“Mom, stop it,” Olive says as I smooth down her ponytail for the umpteenth time. Her tone is so grown-up, my heart falls in my chest. Nine years have flown by, and I’m seeing the teenage years coming faster than I want.

“He’s late,” Cameron says, pacing with his arms folded.

“It’s fine, Cam. It’s three minutes.”

“Still. No one is late for my girls.”

I touch my brother’s forearm. “He’s probably nervous.”

“Oh, he better be.” Cam slams his fist into his hand. I chuckle under my breath. Cam was always a lover and not a fighter, so it’s funny to see him so protective over us.

“Thanks for being here.”

“Of course,” he says with a terse nod. Cam asked if he wanted me there, and I said yes. In a way, Cameron has been the father Olive didn’t have growing up, so it made sense to me.

My hands shake as I crack my knuckles, a bad habit left over from my teenage years.

“What did you tell her?” Cam whispers.

“He’s just a friend. We’re meeting a friend.”

“She’s going to think you’re a hoe.” I snicker behind my hand. Thank God for my brother. For a second, I forgot I wanted to throw up.

“Why are we meeting him again?” Olive looks up at me.

“He’s…important,” I say.

“Is he related to us?” Coughing against my hand, I lie and shake my head.

“This is just weird,” Olive says, pressing her hands into the table.

The door to the brewery opens, and in strides Max, looking handsome and well put together. He’s wearing a suit jacket over dark-wash jeans and polished leather shoes, holding a neon-green item and a single sunflower in his other hand. He looks around, and when he sees us, sees Olive, his face melts.

Don’t cry. Keep it together, I tell myself.

I imagined this moment so many times over the years, and while I didn’t expect it to look like this, it’s perfect. I’m still in my body. I’m still present. This is a Big Life Moment, but it feels normal and natural, like it was meant to happen.

“Hi,” I say as I walk to him and take him in a half hug. He’s warm and his hand is strong against my back. I try not to register how strong his back feels or how he smells like woody citrus. Being this close to him brings back a lot of old, confusing memories.

When I pull away, his cheek touches mine and my stomach flops.

“Hi,” he whispers. He stares at Olive, who’s deep in a conversation with Cam, and his bottom lip drops.

“She’s shy sometimes with new people, just to prepare you. I told her you’re an old friend,” I whisper.

We walk closer to the table where my family sits, and Olive looks up at me when I’m directly across from her. “Olive, this is my friend, Max. Max, this is my daughter, Olive.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” He shifts the flower to the same hand as the neon-green stuffed animal so he can hold out his right hand. Olive studies his outstretched hand and finally takes it, slipping her small hand into his.

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