Page 18 of I Love a Good Challenge

It’s becoming clear that I need to make Sparrow understand what I’m going through. “I know Rafe will be upset when he loses his buddy, but they’ll see each other elsewhere. Technology is a miracle, you know. Besides, he can just move to the next town over. He’s welcome to still have a home in New England and get his fill of clam chowder and lobster rolls. Just not . . . here.”

I take a breath. With everything in me, I want to make sure I don’t hurt her or give any cause to worry as I hasten to reassure her. “Your wedding will be gorgeous. We love you both too much for anything to get in the way of that. But after? My heart can’t take seeing him around much longer.”

The glimmer of hope I still hold for a potential reconciliation rises in my mind, but I quickly crush it. The more I ponder what happened between us, the more it doesn’t seem like a viable option. Graham will always be kind and polite, but until he can trust me again, he won’t be my person.

Sparrow nods in understanding. She opens her mouth then closes it. I lift my brow, and she begins again. “And there’s no chance?”

I know she’s asking about Graham and me. While I appreciate her optimism, I also know it’s a waste of time. My head feels heavy as I muster the strength to move it side to side.

“Oh.” Sparrow exhales with obvious disappointment. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Lils.”

I clear my throat, making an extra effort to let the utensils and bowls I’m using beat aggressively on the counter. My frustration has to go somewhere.

I have no right to be angry over Graham. We could’ve been everything to each other, and we’re just . . . not. There are pieces of his life that I know nothing about. I want to fill in those spaces. I want to know what he has loved and lost these past few years. I want to do a time-lapse of his face to make sure I’ve recorded all the changes to it. I want to inspect his life and figure out if he’s really happy now. Did my decision free him, or does he still dream of me too?

Sparrow tries one more time. “And you won’t fight for it—to get it back? Whatever you two had.”

I turn to meet her eyes, hoping she recognizes the flash of pain in them enough not to speak of this again. “There’s nothing left for us to fight for.”

Chapter Eight

Graham

Do you want to tell me what we’re doing here?” I lower my voice.

Rafe is holding his guitar case in one hand. He flashes me a stupid grin as we approach the gazebo in the middle of town. “Oh, you know . . . we’re just two fairly young men who used to live in big cities but have now fallen in love with being part of a small town. Kind of like those Hallmark movies you’ve been told to star in.”

I give him an unamused stare.

“So, if we’re invited to an event here,” he continues, “we show up to that event, my friend.”

A chuckle escapes me. He is giddy with joy over the next few hours. I’m sure today will include something we’ll one day need pictures of to prove it happened. I look away, hiding the grin on my face as I focus on the glimpses of water visible between a few shops across the way.

Birch Borough is known for the sound of the rushing river that runs through town. It can be heard in the distance, carried across the slightly chilly air that reminds me of the new things starting to unfold all around us.

Breaking up the roar of the water are the squeals of children—at least a hundred—jumping up and down as they walk toward the trail to the pavilion that hovers at the end of the shops a few streets down. An Easter egg hunt is happening in less than an hour, and the town is literally hopping with excitement. I cringe that I thought of something so Easter-related.

“Now, dear . . .”

I turn toward the woman’s voice that suddenly speaks at our side, immediately recognizing Gladys, the town busybody and motherly figure who also “knows how to appreciate a fine-looking man” (not my words). My memory recalls quite a few instances of Lily mentioning the reels Gladys kept sending her featuring handsome chocolatiers around the world.

Thankfully, she’s looking at Rafe, a hint of mischief in her voice. “What do you think about putting on an Easter bunny costume?” Her voice is on the edge of elation.

I choke back a laugh and clear my throat. Her eyes break contact with Rafe’s long enough to give me a once-over and then return to see Rafe’s response. Sometimes, there are advantages in the delay of gaining the town’s favor, particularly during moments like this. Rafe is muttering in French, as he does when he’s overwhelmed or excited (in this case, he’s definitely overwhelmed).

“I already have your sweatshirt on under this, Gladys,” Rafe replies smoothly, opening a bit of his bomber jacket to reveal it, the image of Gladys and Rafe together staring back at us. He received the sweatshirt as his Christmas gift from her. Smart man to wear it today. At this, I can’t help but let out a laugh.

“Quiet, Wickham,” Gladys says to me, her eyes lighting up with a blaze I want to immediately quench.

“How did you . . .?” My thoughts race. It would be my guess that Gladys is trying to get a rise out of me. While it’s irritating that this is the nickname she’s given me, something straightens in my spine when I realize that Lily has been talking about me. Lily has mentioned me to her, huh?

She raises her pointer finger and brings it a little too close to my chest for my liking. “I have pictures of you around town, so don’t even think about crossing me.”

“Ma’am . . .” I begin.

“Gladys,” she corrects, and I feel like a schoolboy about to get . . . well, schooled. She elaborates without hesitation. “You were in the general store yesterday and had to bend over to grab something on the bottom shelf. I just couldn’t help myself. I mean, you could be studied for the way your pants are tailored. Have you ever considered modeling for one of the art classes at It’s Art, the shop just down the way?”

My mouth is hanging open, and my cheeks are burning.

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