Page 147 of Friends Don't Kiss

“Wow-wow-wow. Why’re you writing that? I thought this was to help her make whatever she needs to do for her final exam with her favorite stuff.”

Willow tilts her head. “Aww. Is that what you thought?” She glances at Emma who’s coming out of my office. “Isn’t that cute?”

Emma shakes her head. “Men are so naive, it’s borderline sad,” my accountant drops as she takes a cookie before returning to work.

Willow takes a deep breath and stares at me like I’m a little slow. “This is not to help her ace an exam that’s gonna take her away from us. This is to show her that we love her, and miss her, and she better get her ass back here or she’ll regret it for the rest of her life.”

I cross my arms. “Not sure about this, guys.” If this is the intention, Kiara is going to see right through it. But I look out the window, and Chris is on the phone, no doubt talking to Annabel. Ms. Angela is already fielding questions on Echoes, and Luke folds and slips a bill in the collection box.

This is no longer in my hands—I’m just a willing puppet. I spend the next couple of days fine-tuning the project in my garage.

fifty-three

Colton

NoahhonksoutsideLazy’sand jumps off his truck, lowering the tailgate. He has business in Montreal and offered to give me a ride to the airport. I step outside, rolling a purple hardcase suitcase—courtesy of Alex—and shouldering Ethan’s camo backpack. Grace rushes to attach a smaller bag to it. “There.” She smiles. “Now you’re all set.”

Half the town follows us outside. The other half is already on the sidewalk.

“Did ya weigh the suitcase?”

“Did you make sure you put dirty socks on top of the maple sugar to keeps customs control away?”

“Did you re-wrap the honey? You can’t bring honey.”

“The maple butter won’t do well in cargo. Did you put it in your backpack?”

“Did you put Dad’s prescription with the maple beads? They won’t see the difference.”

Emma’s voice snaps in the cold air and shuts everyone up. “Did you take the ring?”

I hoist the suitcase in the back of the cabin and turn around, facing what seems to be all of Emerald Creek. “I’m not proposing in Paris.”

A collective gasp takes hold of the group.

“Shannon, what did you teach your son?” Ms. Angela says. “Of course you’re proposing in Paris! Do you know how many women dream of a Paris proposal?” she says, a big swipe of her hand maybe suggesting the Paris skyline or the Eiffel Tower.

I’m reaching the end of my rope here. Just because I’ve needed more than a little help in getting Kiara to where we are now, doesn’t mean I’m clueless about women. Kiara doesn’t want a Paris proposal. “Enlighten me, Ms. Angela. How many?”

Her mouth hangs open in disbelief. “All of them!” she finally cries, then looks around for support, which she gets from… everyone. The women are nodding, the men are shaking their heads like I’m the village idiot.

I drop the backpack next to the suitcase. “Well, Kiara is unique. She’s not like all of them.”

Ms. Angela rolls her eyes while the other womenawwand the men chuckle and say, “Nice save.”

But it’s not a save. Okay, in different circumstances, I’ll admit a proposal in Paris is pretty cool.Maybe.But not now. Kiara’s in Paris to propel her career. Me showing up with a ring would be an offer to tie her down when she’s just spreading her wings. We’ve talked about this. I encouraged her to go. I told her I’d wait for her—thirty years if needed.

I’m not going to propose just because I can’t sleep without her at night. Or I can’t focus on work during the day. Or I don’t even want to go to the races anymore, if she’s not jumping in my arms the moment I come out of the car.

My life is tasteless, boring, and meaningless without her. That doesn’t mean she should give up on her dreams for me.

I give Mom a quick hug and jump in the truck next to Noah.

He pulls away and honks again, like we’re leaving port or something.

Looking in the rearview mirror, I see most people actually waving goodbye. “Jesus H. Christ, can you believe this shit? You’d think I’m Frodo leaving the Shire.”

He laughs. “Eh, they’re living through you. Not everyone gets to go to Paris.”

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