Page 65 of If We Never Met

Keira couldn't believe how many times she smiled or laughed as she shared pizza with Dante. He seemed more relaxed than he had on any other occasion, and he was a really good storyteller. She liked that he told stories that didn't always show him doing something amazing.

There was no doubt he had a cocky confidence when it came to baseball, but he also had a self-deprecating charm that was pretty irresistible. In fact, she found her thoughts wandering throughout their meal, thinking about the curve of his mouth, the fullness of his lips, the light in his eyes when he smiled, the tenor of his voice when he talked about the things and the people that mattered to him.

She was a fool to think she could say goodbye to this guy and not hurt at least a little. But she was trying to stay in the present and not think about the future.

"Okay, that's enough stories from me," Dante said.

"You've had so many interesting experiences."

"It's been a ride."

"The ride is not over."

For the first time, a shadow moved through his gaze. "I hope not."

"I'm sorry. We weren't going to talk about tomorrow."

"It's never far from my mind, but we'll leave those thoughts for another day. Tell me what it was like to grow up here."

"It was wonderful. It was a carefree life. The town was a lot smaller. We rode our bikes everywhere. I had good friends. I knew everyone. Of course, when I was a teenager, I thought the town was way too small. I wanted more adventure and excitement. I wanted to see what was on the other side of the mountains."

"You must have found all that in New York."

"I did. It was amazing to go to school there and get my first job. It was a completely different world. I was going to plays, comedy clubs, and bars. It was a lot of fun. But sometimes I missed the lake and the mountains, having people know me when I walked into a store. New York was like being in a race all the time. Everything was fast. It was invigorating, but it was also tiring. I was working long hours for very little money, living with roommates in a tiny one-bedroom apartment."

"You must have stories from those days."

"Some of the designers and models I worked with were truly crazy. And I can't tell you how many times I had to run around town trying to track down someone's favorite food so they could make it through a photo shoot without being unhappy. There were a lot of divas."

"We have divas in baseball, too. Not me, of course."

"Of course not," she said with a laugh. "You've never made some poor intern try to find you a steak sandwich at six in the morning?"

"I am not an early riser. Did you really have to do that?"

"Yes, and this designer had to have the steak from a particular restaurant. I had to wake up the chef to get him to make it."

"Why would the chef agree?"

"The designer had a lot of parties in his restaurant."

"So, the designer got what they wanted, and the chef got something in return. What did you get?"

"A stress headache."

He smiled. "But you were willing to do whatever it took to get to where you wanted to go."

"I was. The longer I was there, the more opportunities I had. I was seeing a brighter light at the end of the tunnel. Then my mom got in the accident, and I dropped everything and came home. In the beginning, I thought it would just be for a few weeks or months, but it became clear very quickly that it would be a year or more. So, I quit my job and sold what I'd left behind. I never went back."

"Do you want to go back?"

"I don't know. That's a question for another day, too."

As they exchanged a long look, both very aware of the precariousness of their futures, the doorbell rang once more. "That must be the stove."

"I'll get out of the way."

"You can go back to the inn if you want," she said, as she got to her feet.

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