Page 31 of Love and Other Lost Things

“Sure.” Jane picked up her menu and looked it over. “Oh, they still have those peanut butter brownies,” she said, her eyes lighting up.

At that moment, a plate with a brownie landed in the middle of the table, followed by two napkin rolls of silverware.

“Thanks,” he said to the server who had delivered the dessert, and then he gave Jane a rueful smile. “Order whatever you want, but I thought this might interest you.”

Smiling, Jane grabbed a fork, carving off a bite of gooey chocolate and sliding it into her mouth. “Mmmm,” she murmured, closing her eyes in happiness, and something in Nik’s abdomen clenched. He really was a glutton for punishment. Why hadn’t he ordered the plain scone instead? But then Jane opened her eyes and grinned at him, and he was tempted to call the server back and ask her to put the whole damn pan of brownies on his tab.

“I can’t believe you remembered,” she said, already digging in for another bite.

“Seriously? Of course I remembered. The crime scene in my mom’s kitchen?” Nik prompted.

In the last quarter of their senior year, Jane had begged Pete, the café’s owner, to share his brownie recipe so she could take it to college with her. Pete had good-naturedly refused, claiming it was his mother’s secret recipe and he wasn’t at liberty to give it out. So, Nik had stocked up on baking supplies and printed out a dozen different recipes. They’d spent an entire rainy Saturday attempting to recreate Jane’s dream brownies, recipe by recipe. By the end of the day, the kitchen counters, the oven, and both Nik and Jane were covered in more melted chocolate and peanut butter than they’d stirred into the brownies. They never did figure out the recipe, and it took them two hours to clean up, but Nik still looked back on it as one of those perfect, sepia-toned days when every moment felt like a beginning.

Jane’s shoulders shook with laughter, obviously remembering at least the mess, if not the rest of it. “I don’t think I ate brownies for a month after that chocolate bloodbath.”

“Who are you kidding? It was a week.”

Jane took another bite of brownie. “Fine, it was a week.” She looked from the brownie, half-eaten now, to Nik. “I’m hogging the whole thing. Here. You should have some.”

He leaned back, holding up his hands. “I can have one of Pete’s brownies whenever I want. This is all you.” Nik hitched his chin at the plate. “Though say the word and I’ll send you some whenever you want.”

Her smile dipped slightly, and she shrugged. “We have some pretty good bakeries in LA.”

Los Angeles. Nik could have sat there all day questioning her about that one topic alone… Why did you move there without telling me? How could you let ten years go by before you came back? But there was a wariness in her eyes that told him he shouldn’t cross those lines. It needled him, her caution where he was concerned, because they’d always been so open with each other.

He felt like a circus performer perched precariously on a tightrope, suspended between the burning desire to interrogate her about everything she hadn’t told him and the fear that it might send her running for another decade. Nik could recognize that simply getting her to meet for coffee was a win, and he should approach cautiously. But at the same time, he might not have another chance.

“So, how did all of that turn out for you?” he asked.

She blinked, momentary confusion crossing her face. “You mean?—”

“Los Angeles.” He cocked his head. “I always assumed you headed out there to make it in the music business.”

“Oh.” Jane took her time setting the fork down on the plate. “Yeah. I did. I mean, LA is the place to be for the music business, right?”

“Is that what you’re doing out there?” He’d googled her, obviously, but hadn’t found a website, any social media, or evidence of upcoming shows. But that didn’t mean Jane didn’t have those things. Maybe she played with a band or used a stage name.

“Um.” Jane reached for her napkin and absently folded it into smaller and smaller squares. “I’m still working on it, I guess you could say.” She pressed her lips together as if she were choosing her words carefully. “LA is a hard place. I don’t think I had any idea when I left here.” Her cheeks flushed pink.

Did she regret going and leaving everyone behind?

He shoved that thought away. Maybe she just felt uncomfortable talking about it because she hadn’t made it in the music industry yet. Could that be why she hadn’t reached out for all these years? She’d taken off to follow her dream, it hadn’t materialized yet, and she thought people in this town would judge her?

Some would. He remembered Mrs. Swanson’s criticisms in Ford’s General Store yesterday. But those were the grumpy old timers and people like her dad. Jane couldn’t think that Nik would be one of those people, or any of their friends, like Hannah and Ali.

“Jane,” he said. “I think you were brave to leave this town and go for it in LA.”

She looked up sharply. “You do?”

He settled back in his chair, feigning a nonchalance he absolutely did not feel. “I mean, I admit I don’t completely understand why you decided not to go to Cornell.” Or why you didn’t ever reach out, he thought to himself but sensed he shouldn’t say. “But if LA was what you wanted, it took a lot of guts to go out there and make it on your own.”

Something about that had her swallowing hard. Nik hated every minute that he didn’t know what was putting that sadness in her eyes. That she didn’t trust him enough to share her real life. “I just want to know one thing,” he continued.

Jane nodded.

“Are you happy?”

She blinked rapidly, staring down at the napkin she was now squeezing the life out of. Who was he kidding? Nik was the complete opposite of nonchalant. He leaned forward, reaching across the table to still her nervous hands. As soon as their skin brushed, an electric current shot up his arm.

---