Page 53 of The Promise Of You

What can I say? “Promise.”

Grace walks up to me, shoves a glass of lemonade in my hand, and introduces me to Emma, a young mother who’s the only CPA in town. I swap phone numbers with Emma, and she promises to come by the restaurant to sort things out during the week, when we’re closed.

“Enough talk about work,” Grace says. “Come, let’s grab food. Sides are in the kitchen, barbecue is outside.”

The farmhouse is stunning, with its wide floorboards, rehabbed fireplaces, and simple decor incorporating natural elements in an understated elegance.

We load our plates with sides in the kitchen. Grace takes a bite of the dish I brought—maple glazed veggies on a bed of herbed quinoa—and loads another side plate with just that, then we make our way outside through the back deck.

I tense as I see Justin manning the barbecue, stopping on the top step. His back is turned to us as he crouches to talk to a little girl, his muscles straining under the dark tee, the faded jeans. My heart flutters at the sight of him, then leaps when the little girl wraps her arms around his neck and gives him a kiss, then runs away.

Grace leans into me. “He makes the best barbecues,” she whispers.

Justin stands and turns, and our eyes meet. His body tenses, his lips straighten, his face shuts off.

He didn’t know I was coming.

And he does not want me here.

My stomach clenches, and I turn around and go back inside.

“You okay?” Haley asks. “You look like you need a real drink. Here,” she says, “Bees Knees.”

Fifteen minutes later, I’ve forgotten all about Justin. That’s because the girls commandeered the front porch, and me, Haley, Grace, Emma, Cassandra, Lynn, and girls I’m just meeting now—Willow and Thalia—are sharing Bees Knees, and Autumn is telling us about her latest dating disaster.

After that, we all help ourselves to sides in the kitchen, everyone but me goes to the barbecue station, then we convene around the long trestle table set outside. I find myself between Hunter and Logan, two of Justin and Haley’s brothers. They share the family’s fair complexion and easy-going attitude (that is, except for Justin, as my internal jury is still out on that), and I’m beginning to warm to their presence, their easy banter, to the point where I don’t forget Justin (how could I ever?), but I’m able to somewhat enjoy my time without wondering what to do with myself.

Until a distinct scent of spice and soap mixed with barbecue smoke fills my lungs, and a corded forearm with tattoos I’m intimately familiar with gently sets a plate of brisket in front of me. “You forgot this,” Justin says softly, then disappears and doesn’t come back to the table for a while.

And when he does, it’s with what’s left of my veggie and quinoa dish. “Anybody know who made that?” he asks. “And who wants more before I finish it?”

“Ohmygod, yes? That was the bomb,” Haley says, extending her plate.

“Mom? There’s only a bit left.”

“You go ahead, honey.”

“You sure? It’s… spectacular. Have you tried it?” Justin insists, my inside warming at his words.

“No.” His mother extends her plate. “Okay, just a bit, I’m really full.”

“It was yummy! I finished it aaaall,” a little boy declares from the kids’ table.

“Anybody else?” Justin looks comically worried that there won’t be any left for him, and I begin to feel heat creeping up my forehead.

“We’re too full,” several voices whine.

“We wouldn’t want to take any food from your mouth,” Hunter says. “You finish it.”

“I’m offering it to you, dummy. Did you even try it?”

“Nah, I’m good. Veggies…” He makes a face.

“Don’t know what you’re missing.” Justin slides three seats down and across from me, squeezing a stool between Haley and Cassandra. He chews slowly, eyes half-closed. “The vegetables are… they’re perfectly cooked yet not soggy. I wonder…”

A la minute seasoning. Draws out the excess moisture.

“And then they’re perfectly coated.”

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