Page 138 of The Charm of You

“Wow.” She searches my expression. “Is that weird for you?”

“It was at first, but at the end of the day, I just want her to be happy. He seems to take good care of her, and he likes fishing. We kind of made plans to go together next Sunday. It was her idea, and although I refused in the beginning, she somehow convinced me to change my mind.”

“It’s that meddling practice she’s gotten recently. She knows just what buttons to push.”

My grunt mixes with a hint of laughter.

“My mom’s only gone on a couple of dates since Daddy. I never met them, so I think I just kept them in a separate box in my brain. It never truly registered.”

I almost envy that. If my mother’s face didn’t glow so much these days, I would certainly envy it, but I wouldn’t be a good son if I didn’t give the guy a chance. He’s clearly important to her.

“Is this what you came all the way up here to tell me?”

I shake my head and smooth her hair back. “It’s just that you were the first person I wanted to tell when I found out, but you weren’t there. I picked up the phone. I thought about calling, but I didn’t know if you’d want to hear from me.” I let a shaky breath loose. “There are so many other things I should’ve said last weekend. I shouldn’t have let you leave without telling you how I really feel, and I’m sorry.” I hold her cheeks in my hands and kiss her forehead, letting my lips linger there as I whisper, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She rests her hands in the crooks of my elbows and steps into me.

“I’m used to pushing people away, and I shouldn’t have done that with you. You mean more to me than that, and it wasn’t fair.”

“So, you do have room for me in your life?” Sadness clouds her eyes, and it slices through my stomach.

“I’ll clear out my flannels. That should create plenty of space.” I chuckle and put a few inches between us in order to retrieve the envelopes from my coat pocket. “If you don’t believe me, I think these might offer you more than enough proof of how much I care about you.”

Caroline tears her watery eyes from mine to accept the cards, each one with her name scrolled across the envelopes in my clumsy writing. She flips each one over in her hands. “What are these?”

I grip the back of my neck with one hand as a rare but very real bout of shyness sinks in. “They’re, um, Valentine’s Day cards.”

“It’s a little early for that, don’t you think? Valentine’s Day isn’t for another four months or so.”

“Just open them.”

I glance around for the first time since I laid eyes on her and note the people around us, embarrassed for the audience we have to what could be a detrimental display of a thousand hits to my ego.

But as I look more closely, these people aren’t even paying attention to us. It occurs to me that I could be dancing in nothing but tighty-whities, and these people would carry on as if it’s not out of the ordinary. It’s not like Sapphire Creek, where everyone drops what they’re doing in order to eavesdrop.

I guess I could see the comfort in such a notion and why someone might find this anonymity appealing.

“They’re empty.” Caroline holds all the cards open for me to see, as though I don’t know that already. “I don’t get it.”

I suck in a breath and steel myself as I explain, “I got you those in high school, one for every Valentine’s Day.”

Her mouth falls into a surprised O.

“I never wrote anything inside of them because I was scared shitless.” I stuff my nervous hands into my pockets to quiet them. “I didn’t have the nerve to write in them, let alone actually give them to you, so every year, I bought one, stared at it, then tossed it into a drawer, never to be taken out.”

Her lower lip trembles.

I pull out a fifth card, turn it over in my hands, and finally hand it over. “I didn’t have the courage back then to tell you the truth, but I’m better than that now. I want to be, anyway, but as we’re both aware at this point, I have a lot of work to do.”

As she releases a watery laugh, a tear slips down her cheek, and she accepts the new card, which I bought two days ago.

I wrote in this one. I wrote everything she makes me feel, and while it was a terrifying task to be so vulnerable and honest, I’m glad I did it.

On top of that, I’m glad I didn’t chicken out this time; I actually handed it over.

I use the pad of my thumb to swipe her tear away, and I say, “I want to fight for what’s important to me, and that’s you, Caroline.”

She clutches the cards to her chest like they’re expensive jewelry. “This is… the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.”

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