The Reunion(57)

His hand pauses as he slowly turns toward me. I keep my eyes focused on the puzzle pieces as my confession rocks my nerves. I can’t believe I just admitted that to him.

“Drove you crazy? As in . . . ?”

How could he not know? How can he really be this clueless?

Did he not notice all the times I looked at him longingly while he was at the store? How I fumbled my words when he was around?

Every instinct begs me to change the subject, but because I honestly think I’ve lost my mind, I clear my throat. “As in, you know, like, a crush.”

Now he shifts on the couch and truly faces me. “You had a crush on me in high school? Like, an actual crush?” He shakes his head. “There’s no way that’s true.”

I nod slowly. “Oh, it’s true. I had the biggest crush on you.” I finally look at him. “I thought you were so fascinating, so different from everyone else, and that captured me.”

“You’re not just saying that?” he asks.

I shake my head. He reaches out and touches my chin, bringing my eyes to his. I swallow hard when I see the way his irises grow darker from the connection of our gazes.

“I had a crush on you. A terrible one,” he says, pulling all the air from my lungs. “Why do you think I was always in the store? Especially whenever I visited from college. Anything to catch a glimpse.”

“Seriously?” I ask, my stomach now doing somersaults.

“Oh yeah. I had it bad.” He wets his lips. “Really fucking bad.”

“I . . . uh . . . I didn’t realize.”

He pulls on the back of his neck and glances over my shoulder. “That night, the night of the fire, I was actually walking over to the store because I heard you were going to be there. I was going to ask you out on a date.”

My mouth falls open as I fully turn toward him. “You were?”

“Yeah. I was only there for a few days, but I couldn’t go back to school without knowing what it was like to take you out. Never got the chance, and then by the time I was able to make it home again, you’d taken off.”

Talk about completely shocked. I would never have thought that someone like Dr. Beau Novak would even look my way. He’s so down to earth, so grounded, and I’m . . . well . . . I’m a train wreck. What does he even see in me?

“What are you thinking?” he asks. “I can see a shift in your body language. Did I say too much?”

I shake my head. “Not at all. I’m just . . . surprised is all. You’re so great,” I say, speaking the truth. “You have so much going for you. You’re levelheaded, a good person, an intelligent man with drive and purpose. What could you have possibly seen in someone like me? Someone who’s broke, homeless, and makes bad decisions involving wine?”

He smiles softly. “Your smile can brighten anyone’s mood. And your spirit—it’s vibrant, passionate, addictive. You’re a ray of light on the darkest of days, and maybe you’ve made some decisions that didn’t pan out in the past, but you’re also so brave, so daring, that it makes me want to try new things, to put myself out there.”

“Why don’t I feel like any of those things?” I ask.

“Because you’ve cast a veil of doubt over yourself. It just needs to be lifted by the right person,” he answers.

“And who would that person be?”

He shrugs. “That’s for you to decide.” His eyes fall to my mouth and then travel back up to my eyes.

I wet my lips, the thought of kissing Beau careening through my body like a semi bumping and tumbling my nerves with anticipation.

I’ve waited so long to know what his lips taste like. I’ve thought about it. Dreamed of it. Conjured up ideas of how he might’ve kissed me when I was in high school.

On a picnic table overlooking a lake.

On the top of a hiking trail while taking in the beautiful views.

In the back of a movie theater while holding hands.

On the hood of his car while we shared an ice cream.

All the images flash through my mind, images I thought of over and over, all those years ago.

But I never pictured this. As a grown-up, sitting on his couch, wearing his clothes, solving a puzzle with him as he confesses his attraction to me.

I take a deep breath. “What if I’ve known what I’ve wanted for a long time but have been too scared to take it?” He was older than me; he was Beau Novak, the beautiful bookworm who was out of everyone’s league. I was so convinced he’d never even give me even one glance back then.

“Then I’d say you’re not living your life the way you should. If I’ve learned anything from my parents, it’s that life is too short to not take action.” He says the words, and it’s as if something crosses over in his thoughts, a realization. He chuckles. “I should probably take my own advice.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

He lets out a deep breath. “Palmer, I really want to fucking kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, and I know that if I don’t kiss you, right here, right now, I’m going to regret it. So, I’m asking you”—his eyes connect with mine—“can I kiss you?”

I look into his hazel eyes, the same hazel eyes that have tortured my dreams for years.

I want him too.