Page 13 of I Love a Good Challenge

“They will be designed at my discretion with the intention of pushing you outside of your comfort zone.” And hopefully, drive you so crazy you leave voluntarily. I’m already thinking of how to involve Gladys.

“Will I be publicly humiliated?”

“Depends on how you respond. I won’t humiliate you on purpose, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Will each one be with you?”

“What?”

“Will you be present for each challenge?”

Doubt suddenly kicks in to the rational part of my brain. I look over and see Rafe and Sparrow watching us discreetly. I don’t like where this is going, but I’m too far in now. Graham is right. Turning this into a game will require seeing even more of each other than I had planned. As it is, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’ve blocked his number (I haven’t). Still, I nod with a noncommittal shrug, and he relaxes a bit.

“Well, what’s at stake? What do I win? What do you gain?”

This, I can answer. I breathe in deeply before replying. “If I win, you rent out your fresh-off-the-market apartment to anyone who wants to experience the cozy New England life. I’ll only see you if you drive through town to meet up with Rafe. You can move to the next town over, or Boston, or back to LA. Maybe try out Nashville. I don’t care.”

He stiffens. I totally do care, but I’m not about to admit it. “So, losing to you also means I lose my home and get kicked out of town?

“Don’t worry about winning . . . because you won’t.” I know what I’m asking is absurd.

His eyes shutter a bit, the playfulness disappearing, only his iron will remaining between us. “But if I win?” he counters.

I bite the inside of my cheek. I’m playing to win, but an alternative future flashes before me—one where Graham and I aren’t at odds, and I finally get to explain myself. His nearness makes me wish for things I’m not sure are possible. There’s an absurd hope brewing that makes me willing to see if maybe there can at least be forgiveness, even if I’m unsuccessful in my mission to remove Graham’s presence here. I want it too much. I hear myself reply, “Then you stay in Birch Borough, and I don’t say another word about it.”

“You don’t have a right to tell me where to live, regardless,” he says, his arms crossing with a bit more confidence, revealing a flash of the man I remember handling difficult legal cases with unshakeable poise. “Yes, I moved here, but I didn’t think . . . you said . . .” He trails off, vulnerability visible on his face. “You have no reason to fear me, Lily.”

“Of course not. I’ve never thought I did.” And I don’t. Not one bit. If anything, my only fear is him seeing how much I still want him.

His instant relief is palpable but quickly reverts to detachment. His eyes scan my face with robotic precision instead of hunger. I hate the unexplainable urge to sob suddenly creeping into my consciousness.

“We’ve got to find a way to work together for Rory and Rafe,” I clarify. “Because if we don’t figure this out, it will destroy their wedding day. I won’t be responsible for bringing a whole vibe to their wedding that is honestly depressing.”

“Of course,” he affirms quickly. Neither of us would do anything to intentionally hurt our friends, even though I’m sure our mysteriously hostile dynamic is already a heavy thing for them to carry. Knowing this fiasco with Graham is temporary is the only thing keeping my voice from shaking.

“Do we have a deal?” I ask. My whole body wills him to agree. I need a sense of possibility that, even though I’ll inevitably see him because of our friends, he isn’t going to suddenly be in every area of my life. If I can’t have him and there isn’t forgiveness between us, I don’t want to run into him in town every single day for the foreseeable future.

Just have to get through the wedding.

Shifting his weight, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few quarters. They clink and land with a sharp thud in the machine as he presses the button for the song on C18. “This Will Be” by Natalie Cole begins to play. Graham leans against the jukebox. His breathing is steady, but his body language is intentional. I feel the pinch on my spine from wearing higher wedges today than usual.

“Counter deal,” he finally says through gritted teeth. Standing up straight, his blue eyes are cool as he stares down at me.

I squint my eyes to see if I can break his concentration. No dice. I can see why people in the courtroom used to crack under his gaze. The man gives back nothing. But I know him more than I’ve let on to everyone else, so I step a little closer and watch as his calm façade starts to crumble. The energy between us pulses with our proximity. I see it in the light tap of his right foot, the soft clearing of his throat, the almost imperceptible shift of his shoulders.

“My final offer,” he says.

Instinctively, I know he’s not just talking about some challenge. He’s talking about us. My heart rate picks up, and I take a step back.

“Proceed,” I choke out, stealing a word from his own playbook.

“I will go with your deal. It’s unhinged, but I’ll go with it. And I issue a counter challenge of my own.”

He looks around the diner once more, and I follow suit. Rafe and Sparrow are absorbed in each other, their faces all smiles. Lucy approaches them, and I note our food arriving at our table. As she walks away, they look around the diner for the two of us. It’s time to get back. Graham nods toward the little alcove to the side of the jukebox. I angle toward it as he protects me with his frame from the view of the rest of the restaurant. Whatever he’s about to say must be good. Really good.

Emotion creeps up my throat because he’s done this before. Covered me. Hid me. Made sure I felt safe and protected. Whatever he’s about to say, he doesn’t want anyone else to hear.

His right hand lands on the wall to the left of my face, and I try not to notice the lightening of his hair, where it might start to turn grey. I ignore the way his forehead casts a shadow over his pale blue eyes, enhancing their intensity. To anyone observing, I know his posture looks like Bill Pullman dreamily leaning toward Sandra Bullock. No one would ever know how it feels to have him so close without being able to call him mine.

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