Page 83 of After Tonight

She frowned. “You can’t see at all what I mean? That I’m just falling into all of this? Taking the easy way out?”

Kyle blew out a breath and sat on the edge of her desk. “Riley, it’s not supposed to be hard. They don’t call it digging into love. It’s not climbing into love. It’s not pushing or fighting into love. They call it falling into love. Falling is easy. You just let yourself go and it happens.”

Her throat felt tight. “You and Hannah had to work at it,” she pointed out.

But he shook his head. “Not the loving part. That was easy. The communicating, the honesty, the sharing part, yeah, we had to work at that. But you and Derek already do all of that.”

The tightness in her throat spread to her chest. His words made sense. The feelings were easy. The rest of it was…also easy. At least with Derek.

“Open the package,” Kyle said.

She looked down at the roll of paper in her lap. With some trepidation, she tore back the outer layer of wrapping.

Inside was a bunch of rhubarb.

She laughed even as she felt tears stinging her eyes.

“That’s um…” Kyle said.

“Perfect,” she told him. She looked up. “He knows me.”

“And wants you in spite of that,” Kyle said. He grinned and stood.

He had made another good point. “Tell him thanks,” she said.

“You’re not going to rush over to tell him yourself?”

She shook her head. “I know him too—and he needs to work at this a little.”

Kyle shook his head. “Now that I’ve given my blessing, I can stay out of it, right?”

“That’s probably safest,” she agreed.

* * *

Her mother woke her up the next morning at six-thirty a.m. with scones. And a note from Derek saying he promised to never get scones for anyone else ever again.

The next day he delivered a yoga mat. Also at six-thirty a.m. With a note that said she was the only one he’d ever want bending over in his living room.

The next day—yep, at six-thirty—he delivered a Lindsey Stirling CD. Cracked in half.

The next, her mother awakened her to demand she go out and tell him to stop dumping little tubs of flavored creamer on their lawn. Instead, Riley took a seat on the porch swing, with a cup of black coffee, and watched him do it. She nodded politely as he declared he would never again buy flavored creamer. But when he said he’d never make coffee for another woman, she reminded him that he made coffee at the Come Again and that Scott really liked French vanilla creamer. Derek had to backtrack, and she’d gone into the house with a grin.

She did kind of like him making a big deal for her. And more, for him. He didn’t work at women, and he wasn’t clingy at all and it felt good to be new to him.

The morning of the path dedication and murder-mystery event, the sun was shining brightly, and she nearly tripped over the basket on the front porch when she was heading out for the town square.

The basket held a huge coffee mug and a note that said it was a permanent mug—not to-go and not disposable, not to be refilled and taken along, but to be used over and over again in the same kitchen. He’d also included a photo of a new mug rack on his kitchen counter with a matching mug hanging from it.

Riley felt her heart swell. That was pretty good, she had to admit. And she really wanted this to be done. She wanted to tell him how she felt. That she wanted to stay. But she was also enjoying his clinginess.

There was something she had to do first though. She dialed Lucy’s number.

“Hi, Riley,” her friend greeted. She sounded breathless.

“Hey, Luce. Um, so, I need to talk to you about something. I know today is busy, but could you meet me at the dedication a little early?”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Lucy said. Riley heard the sound of a car driving past in the background. So Lucy was outside. “I’m behind on everything. I really can’t. Can we grab a few minutes right afterward maybe? Is it really important?”

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