Page 32 of The 7 Rules of Moving On
Trig gave Billy and his air quotes a stealthy glare.
“Is that so?” Kathleen singsonged, calling bullshit in this charming way only she was capable of. “What a shame.”
Trig could feel Kissie squirming uncomfortably beside him.
“We’ll take two kitten cupcakes please,” he said, hoping to thwart an awkward and potentially agonizing interrogation.
“Are ye headed to the park?”
“The park?” Kissie asked, licking a bit of frosting off her cupcake.
Trig grinned. This was his ace in the hole. “Absolutely.”
Waving goodbye to Kathleen and Billy, Trig led Kissie under the pink trees, past the twenty-four-hour café and the confectionary, past the toy store and the library, turning down a side street toward the park.
“What’s the deal with Ivan Drago?” she asked after swallowing the last bite of her cupcake. “And who’s Tina?”
Trig slowed to a stop, turning to face her under the awning of Janice’s boutique. “Tina is my ex,” he said, sliding his hands into his coat pockets. “And Lane is who she left me for.”
Kissie winced. “Oh, sorry.”
“Yep.”
“How long ago?”
“A few years,” Trig answered. “Tina and I weren’t like Pudge and Grandma Betty, or Billy and Kathleen. But I thought we were at least better than becoming hot town gossip when she cheated on me with Lane.” He held up a finger. “At the Montgomery’s Valentine’s Day party, I might add.”
“Holy shit!” Kissie grabbed his arm, squeezing with her mittened hand. “I had no idea, Trig. I never would have told Lane we’d come if I’d known—”
“It’s okay.” There was this line sinking between her brows he desperately wanted to smooth away. “Just do me a favor. Anyone but Lane.”
Her head tilted. “What do you mean?”
His smile was grim. He didn’t love how vulnerable he felt with what he was about to say or with how badly he wanted things to be different. It was, he knew, never a good idea to wish things were different. It made it impossible to fully appreciate the way things were. Trig was the kind of person who always tried to appreciate how good he had it, no matter how difficult Kissie made that endeavor these days.
Because when he stared at her, at the lights dancing in her eyes, at the waves of her sandy blond hair pouring out from under her cap, he wanted more. He wanted the future with her his mind had already started creating, sliding her laughter, her spirit, her soft, warm body into his life spread out before him like missing scenes from a movie he thought he’d known by heart. That was the good he wanted now. Kissie good. Everything else paled in comparison.
“I know I’m only your wingman for the next couple of days, and that’s cool. I’m fine with it.”Lies.“But if you do end up finding someone to move on with in town or at Mystic, please don’t do it with Lane. I don’t think I could handle it.”
Even though she was wearing mittens, he still felt the warmth of her hands when she took his face between them. “I won’t. You have my word.”
“Thanks, Kissie.”
They stood there under the awning, both of their breaths making clouds, and he wanted to kiss her so badly he prayed for an earthquake to tilt the slab of sidewalk they stood on so that she’d slide into his arms.
But they had places to go still, things for her to see. The night wasn’t over yet.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand again, clearing away the weight in the air around them. “You’re going to love this.”
Twin Hearts downtown park was illuminated with red and pink twinkly lights strung through the trees and along the bushes. In the middle of the park there was a tent covering the tennis courts, more lights making heart shapes and spelling out words like “Love” and “Sweetheart” along the canvas. There was music playing, people dancing and laughing, local artists drawing caricatures of happy couples, free food provided by the diner and the bakery.
“Trig?” She squinted up at him, suspicious. “You wouldn’t be trying to make me fall in love with your town, would you?”
“What?” he said, his voice rising guiltily. “I would never.”
She smiled at the scene. “It’s like a flipping Hallmark movie. This might be the sweetest, most wholesome thing I’ve ever seen.”
He squeezed her hand, wondering why it felt like it belonged there, nestled in his. “Pudge and Grandma Betty always bring this epic mulled wine. Let’s go find them.”
