Page 42 of It's You
“Amory is eight years younger than Willow. I mean, when they met, she was in fourth grade, and he was in diapers. When she was a sophomore in high school, he was in second grade. When she was starting college, he was finishing grade school. Age gap. Big one. She actually—still, to this day—calls him ‘Brat.’” She thought of Amory’s face last night, the way he seemed drawn to Willow like a magnet when he first entered the kitchen. “But he adores her. Always has. Right from the start.”
Jack swirled his wine, taking a sip. “And…”
“You know, Amory was in fifth grade when Willow was a high school senior, and he gave her the most amazing valentine. All it said was ‘Attends-moi.’” Darcy paused, remembering the redconstruction paper valentine trimmed with one of their mother’s pilfered doilies.
“Wait for me,” whispered Jack.
Darcy nodded.
“But I don’t know,” she continued. “Willow’s…Well, she’s, um…She’s cagey. Her parents didn’t stay together, and she has some trust issues, and…Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Shedidn’twait for him. She dated half of Boston when she was at Harvard. She got married and quickly divorced. Dated the other half of Boston. Her grandmother passed away, and she ended up back here.”
Jack finished his wine and set the glass beside his bowl. “I don’t get it, though. What about now? He’s a grown-up, she’s a grown-up. Why not now?”
“Eight-year spread.” Darcy sighed. “She’s never given him a chance, which, I believe, has made him a serial dater. He’s got this new girl. Faith. And Willow? I don’t even know what it would take to tie her down.” She shrugged and smiled sadly at him. “I sort of love seeing them together in my head, you know? Like fantasizing that Willow could reallybemy sister one day. But I can’t imagine how it would ever happen. I know them both. It’s impossible.”
Jack took her empty glass, placing it beside his, then lay down next to her on his back, his head pointed toward the fire. He folded his hands on his chest, glancing at her. “That’s a little too final, don’t you think? I think—Ibelieve—that some things are meant to be.”
He started that assessment lightly, but Darcy felt an edge in his tone as he finished speaking.
“I think you’re a romantic.” She put her arm flat on the blanket and lay her head on it, staring at Jack’s lightly bearded cheek, wanting to touch him, telling herself not to.
He propped himself back up on his side, looking just a little bit embarrassed. “Maybe. I mean, I don’t read chick lit or run out to every romantic movie that comes along. But, sure. I like happy endings. Don’t you? Don’t you want a happy ending?”
With you. I only want one with you.
His eyes widened, and she realized she hadn’t looked away in time. She didn’t even know where the thought had come from, and he’d heard it. Her cheeks flushed with heat, and she quickly rolled onto her back as a tear of embarrassed frustration snaked its way out of the corner of her eye.
“Darcy.”
She wouldn’t look at him. She felt him stand up without another word, and after a moment, she heard soft acoustic guitar music start playing. When she looked up, he was leaning down, taking her hands in his.
“Dance with me?”
She let him pull her into a standing position and fell gratefully into his arms, resting her cheek on his shoulder, loving the feeling of his arms around her, resting on her lower back.
“What is this?”
“‘My My Love.’ Joshua Radin. You know it?”
“No. But I love it.”
She had her hands lightly on his shoulders, but now she moved them to his neck, needing to feel the heat of his skin under her fingers.
“Sometimes I’ve wondered if that night was a dream.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I know.” She leaned back to gaze at him. “Why’d you do it? Kiss me?”
“Don’t you know?”
She shook her head no.
“Darcy, I was crazy about you that summer. Every second. Every?—”
“No,” she murmured in disbelief, shaking her head. “You barely?—”
“Yes.” A whisper. Absolute.
