Page 42 of Falling for Autumn Again

“It would be a small island. But we could do it.” I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly feeling dry. Autumn—for the first time ever—is looking at my work. I want her to like it more than I realized. “Love is small. While this concept will bring in people from neighboring towns, you could go with the smaller dining room size and get away with it. People may have to wait.”

Her breath hitches and her eyes rise up to mine, our heads bent close as we study my plans together. “You think people will come?” she asks, her voice small.

My eyes rove over her pretty face. Treading carefully at the vulnerability in her voice, I tell her what I believe to be true. “If you’re cooking, they’ll come.”

She studies my face back and I don’t miss when her eyes fall to my lips.

“How’d you know I’d got engaged, Green?” I say, just above a whisper.

She blinks, her gaze turning back to the computer screen. “Summer—Summer said she saw a save the date or something like that. I guess before you got rid of your social media pages.”

I run a hand over the back of my neck. “I never got rid of them. I just stopped using them. Bre probably tagged me.”

Her eyes turn back to me. “So, youwereengaged. You proposed.”

I nod.

“What happened?” For the first time since I’ve been back, she looks at me—really looks, like she used to.

“Does it matter?” I say.

She gives her head the smallest of shakes—though I wish she’d say that it did matter.

“What happened with your dad?”

Neither of us can say that doesn’t matter.

“Cancer. He gave up the fight five years ago.”

“I’m really sorry, Autumn.”

She sniffs and stands, hands clutching to her hips, no longer looking at me. "And we can change those colors, right? Because that yellow is horrendous."

Horrendous? It’s not. It’s a fall, golden yellow, warm and welcoming. But it’s easier to complain about my work than to talk about her dad. Besides, the patterns and colors aren’t really what I do. That’s for the owner or interior designer.

I stand too. “Does this mean you like one of them?”

She didn’t study them long. But she did email me her wish list. I’d studied and prepped beforehand, had designs in the works and in my mind, and knowing Autumn the way I do, it all came together pretty quick.

“The first. The larger kitchen.” Her eyes pop up to mine. “You’re good at this, Ezra.”

Chapter Nineteen

Autumn

The spicy scentof grilled shrimp fills the Linus’s home. I hug a plate to my chest, waiting for Dessie to finish sharing all her shrimp secrets with me.

With her instruction, all of my doubts creep in. Everything I was sure of is now a question. “What if I’m bad at this, Dessie? I never went to school. I’m no executive Chef. At best, I’m a Chef 1. It’s been a hobby and now we want to make a living off of it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The restaurant—what if I can’t do it? All your money and time. I can’t fail you.”

Dessie turns away from her sizzling shrimp to stare at me. “Is that what’s got your panties in a bunch the past few days?”

I swallow. Maybe. Ormaybeit’s Ezra. Having him here stirs up old feelings that I’ve no right to anymore. Learning that he didn’t know about my dad, that he never got married doesn’t help either. The pain and longing my heart has been shoving away all these years has surfaced like a genie out of its magical bottle. And I’m not sure how to get those emotions back in check—except to fight them with a grimace and a shove to Ezra’s chest.

“Honey, you know what you’re doing. You didn’t need schoolin’ to learn how to cook.”

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