Page 24 of Don't Want to Fall
“Just waiting to meet Tabby,” I say, staring at the untouched cinnamon roll on my plate. I would wait to share it with my daughter on any normal day. But today, I don’t have the appetite for it at all.
“I’m waiting for someone, too. But she might be a few minutes. Mind if I hang out until she gets here?”
“Sure,” I say, not really meaning it but not having any good reason to say no.
“Did one of them get to you, too?” he asks.
“Them who?”
“The bridal party. The one staying at the lodge.”
“How do you know about the bridal party?”
“Long story,” he says, shaking his head and reaching for his coffee.
“You should’ve asked for the whole pot,” I say about his gigantic cup.
A shit-eating grin appears on Tucker’s face. “I haven’t slept much this weekend.”
“Neither have I.”
The bells jingle overhead, and both our heads snap toward the sound. But it’s just Agnes Collins, coming in for her morning coffee. It’s anyone’s guess if she’ll harass Ivy about penis-shaped desserts. Agnes is a wild card.
“You love her?” Tucker asks me.
“Yeah,” I say, because where does lying get me anyway?
“You told her that?”
“Not exactly.” Though telling her I want her to stay more than anything was pretty damn close to admitting how I truly felt. But I stand by my decision. I have to let her go. I have to know if she wants to be here, and only time will tell me that.
“You should try it,” Tucker says, pushing up from his chair.
“You take your own advice?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says, his gaze on someone outside. “Freaked her the fuck out at first, but only because she felt the same way and didn’t want to admit it.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Good luck, man.”
Maybe Iwouldtell Devin how I feel, if only it weren’t too late. Any minute now, Fred will take the bridal party to the airport. In mere hours, they’ll board a plane and leave Cinnamon Creek behind them.
“This seat taken?”
I freeze, convinced I’m hearing voices. But that lavender scent surrounds me like an intoxicating cloud, forcing me to look up.
“Devin?”
“So funny story. I’m going to stay in Cinnamon Creek whether you like it or not.”
I want to be excited, but the earlier fear is still heavy in my chest and it’s preventing me from getting my hopes up.
“You’re sexy when you’re grumpy, but I much prefer you with a smile,” she says, slipping into the seat across from me.
“You’re staying?” I repeat, mostly to clarify that my ears haven’t deceived me.
“Yep.”
“For how long?”
“I thought about forty or fifty years.”
