Page 11 of I Love a Good Challenge

“Sparrow, I’m more than okay. Whatever you two need from Lily and me, you’ve got it.”

Sparrow’s smile assures me I’ve made the right decision. I ignore the look of shock on Rafe’s face and the sound of Lily’s growl.

What have I done?

Chapter Six

Lily

We’re only hours into gathering to plan the wedding wildness, and I’m ready to throw things. Sure, I’ve been known to chuck a baked good or chocolate bar toward unsuspecting loved ones in the past. This time, though, I want to throw something of significance. Maybe I’ll search for one of those rage room things in the area when we’re through with today’s meeting. That has got to work off some steam, right?

It has to be better than walking toward the diner—appropriately called Train Car Diner since it’s an actual train car converted into a restaurant and where I’m heading to meet with Sparrow and Rafe for an extension of kicking off the official start of the wedding festivities—and seeing Graham through the window. He’s sitting like the perfect model of a man that he is. Sparrow has never thought of him as more than undeniably handsome, but I still think he is the most stunning man I’ve ever seen. His light blue eyes are something I would write songs about if I had any of Rafe’s talent. Graham always smells like fresh air in the middle of how I imagine an English countryside smells. Darn all the romance novels I’ve read for making me wax poetic about the delicious manly scent that radiates from him.

I pause just before walking into the diner to sneak a second look at Graham. It looks like I’m the second to arrive, even after trying to time it so that Rafe and Sparrow arrive ahead of me.

His hair is light brown with natural highlights. They make him look like he just happened to be out in the sun, and it marked him from the rest of the world. I’ve always known he has money, but I also know how hard he works for every single cent. He’s the type of man who is so good you almost think he can’t be real. And when you do realize his polite and elegant mannerisms are genuine, it scares you to think that you could be the one to cause him pain. (Having already been the one to cause him pain, I know all too well that I’m right to be afraid of myself.)

All I know is that as I pull open the door and walk toward the table where he sits, his eyes flicker up to meet mine. And I think to myself that he shouldn’t be allowed to still look at me like I once lit up his world, even if the warm expression in his eyes fades moments later. Not when I’ve treated him the way that I have. I know what I am.

A long time ago, I learned it’s best to say what I am thinking. I don’t hesitate to poke buttons. After all, why are buttons there if not to be pushed? My theory is that you have to make sure they’re working now and then. Barring potential proposals, I always say what I mean because what’s the point in filtering myself? We’re all a bit of a mess because we’re human. I just happen to embrace it a little more than others.

I drag my feet as I approach the booth. When I get stuck behind a waiter delivering plates of burgers, fries, and a mountain disguising itself as a slice of lemon meringue pie, the delay gives me time to think about how I’m going to pull myself together.

Finally, the obstacle in the aisle clears, and I walk toward the man I’m doing my best to forget. Immediately, Graham slides over, making room for me to sit beside him in the booth. All I can manage to give is a slight, awkward nod in return, my words uncharacteristically lost.

At the church tonight, I nearly combusted. Graham’s willingness to help with the wedding while Rafe and Sparrow handle Rafe’s growing music career as I cover the bakery and my maid of honor duties was wild. I could feel him trying to avoid looking at me, and I nearly cracked. His mannerisms don’t just unsettle my mind; they unsettle my heart. Except for the time he cut me off before I could apologize for what happened between us, he is always the perfect gentleman.

I’m trying to think of how to break the awkward silence when Sparrow rushes in, her arm around Rafe. She looks up at him like he’s a living answered prayer, and I know he is that for her. Rafe has his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He kisses the top of her head so gently that something tugs within my chest. They slide into the seat across from us, faces beaming.

Happiness is all I want for Sparrow. However, I know things are about to change drastically between us as Rafe is now her “person.” I’ll always be the best friend, her ride or die when it matters most, but it’s shifting. I see it happening before my eyes. She’s becoming his, and he’s becoming hers. They’re about to make this “until death do us part” vow to each other, and it just aches a little. I feel as if the best I can hope for at this point is to volunteer myself as an apprentice under Gladys for Birch Borough’s resident busybody and wildcard commentator, who will end up with stories to be told to Sparrow and Rafe’s grandchildren.

Unwillingly, my eyes roam over to Graham. He is now leaning toward our friends. The hand closest to me is nearly clenching in a fist while the farther hand waves animatedly as he tells them a story. I’m only half-listening, which stands in sharp contrast to Graham, who is engaged in the conversation. He laughs when needed, giving frequent smiles of encouragement to Rafe and Sparrow, and is the perfect embodiment of a supportive friend. No wonder he’s the best man.

I take advantage of the privacy of the moment, however. I know he’s so focused on them he won’t notice my almost physical reaction to his nearness. I let myself bring our memories to the surface to inspect them once again. It’s a crime scene, and I make sure I don’t miss a clue or leave something behind that would unravel my alibi. Soon, I find myself focusing on the way he’s filled out his suit jacket since the last time I saw him, the taut muscles underneath telling me he’s been working out more. I catch a few new lines added to the sides of his eyes when he smiles, although the way they etch his face tells me he’s going to age really well (figures). And I’m struck by the thought that I could’ve had the privilege to see it up close.

My skin flushes with an unexpected heat. The diner is now too warm, the lights are now too bright, and the flowers in little vases on the tables are too . . . flowery. More people have entered. They chat with Lucy, the waitress who has worked at this diner since Sparrow and I were in high school. She appreciates my vegetarian self’s need for a veggie burger, and somehow, she once found a way to ask Jerry, the cook in the back, how to make the best barbecue veggie burger possible. I’m forever indebted to her for that kindness, among many others.

“Hi, darlings,” Lucy greets us. If she’s here, there’s no way that anyone else is serving us.

“Oh!” Rafe exclaims, rhythmically drumming on the table. “Lily, I was once told to ask you . . . why do you appreciate the name Lucy so much?”

“While You Were Sleeping,” Graham answers before thinking better of it. And my ears burn that he remembered such a detail and so quickly.

“That’s right!” Lucy grins. “It’s Lily’s favorite rom-com. When she learned my name, I immediately became her favorite waitress in this town.”

I give her a grin.

“Am I wrong?”

“No.” I shake my head, finally finding my voice after feeling like it dropped to the floor under the booth along with Graham’s two cents.

“What’ll it be?” Lucy lifts her order pad, pulling a pencil from behind her ear.

We give our orders. When she leaves, I start to bite my nails. My foot taps furiously (it’s doing that a lot tonight) as I wait for my friends to take a breath. Cautiously, I look toward Graham, and our eyes lock. In what I once declared a dead zone, I feel a fire reigniting. His proximity is going to be my undoing. If I can’t have him, then I have to banish him far, far away. Neverland is still too close.

Or . . .

“Let’s pick a song!” I yell like a madwoman, pointing to the jukebox in the corner.

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