Kiss and Don't Tell(51)

“So, you told me about your mom and how you’ve put school on hold, but you haven’t told me why you’re here exactly.”

“That’s a fun story,” I say just as the waitress brings us the check. I reach for it but Pacey nearly snarls at me as he swipes it out from under my hand. Got it, he’s paying. Doesn’t seem there’s any point to me putting up a fight; I know I’m not going to win.

He slips some cash into the billfold and sets it on the end of the table.

“Are you willing to share that story?” he asks.

I wipe my face with my napkin and nod. “I’m still confused by it all. My mom was actually born here, in Banff.”

“Really?” he asks, surprised.

“Yeah, and then she was raised in Calgary. On a trip to the Pacific Northwest with her brother, she met my dad. Took them about five days to fall in love. It was quick.” I lean my chin on my hand and recall how she spoke about my father. “She loved him so much. They were infatuated with each other. They were married within a month. My mom’s family wasn’t happy, because she left Canada and started a life with my dad in Seattle. They started the bookstore and lived a quiet little life, just the two of them. Neither of their families were pleased with how fast things moved. They always thought it was a mistake to get married that fast. But my parents both said, if you know, you know. At least, that’s what Mom told me. I never really knew Dad. I have very few memories of him.”

“Love moves quick. It should never have a timeline placed on it,” Pacey says, making my romantic heart beat faster. I couldn’t agree more with that statement. “What happened to your dad?” he asks.

“After 9/11, Dad wanted to serve our country, but unfortunately he lost his life to a roadside bombing during his first deployment. I think a piece of Mom died with him. She never dated again, didn’t even consider the idea of it. Instead, she invested all her time in me. Things were strained with her family, so it was just us. It’s why when she was diagnosed with the tumor, I was by her side every step of the way. She’d dedicated her time to me, so I thought it was the least I could do for her, despite having to put my life on hold.” There was never any other option. Looking back on those two years, it was the exhausting, silent grief that consumed me mostly. The hardest years of my life. Thank God I had Katherine and Max.

Pacey runs his tongue over his teeth and looks away. Quietly, he says, “You’re something else, Winnie. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you before. I’m not sure I know a lot of people who would put their life on hold to be a caregiver.”

“There was no question. I wanted to be there for her.”

He slowly nods and then stands from his chair. “Let’s get out of here.”

I stand from my chair as well and reach for my bags but he takes them from me.

Then he asks, “Can I hold your hand?”

Be still my heart.

He wants to hold my hand, not just to guide me somewhere, but actually hold my hand. What on earth is this reality?

And as if he even needs to ask.

“I would like that,” I answer.

He gives me a sincere smile as he takes my hand in his. Together, we walk out of the restaurant and toward the parking lot where we left his car. As we fall in step together, I can’t help but notice how perfect my hand feels in his, how perfect this moment feels.

“Okay, so you told me about your parents, but not why you’re here.”

I snuggle in closer to him and say, “A few months before Mom died, we were talking about her childhood, and she told me some stories about her brother. Apparently, they used to share this trophy growing up that they won in a bowling league. One day, he just decided he was done sharing it and he was going to keep it, even though she was the one with the game-winning bowl. When she asked for her turn with it, he told her it was his, and he was going to keep it forever. Childish, if you ask me. After she was . . . gone, I was going through her things and found a box with his name on it. I opened it and found a bunch of notes and random things in it, pictures of them, ticket stubs—you know, random crap. One of the pictures was of them with the trophy. It was one of those old-fashioned things. An actual cup, not like a guy bowling or anything like that.”

“I know exactly what you’re talking about,” Pacey says, humor in his voice.

“My mom was a lot like me, never really excelled at anything. And I’m not saying that to look for a compliment. Just average Janes, and that’s totally okay, because as my mom always said, our talents may be average, but our personalities are extraordinary.”

“I can very much agree with that statement. You are quite extraordinary, Winnie.”

I squeeze his hand and lean my head briefly against his shoulder in gratitude. “Anyway, this trophy meant the world to her because it was the one thing that proved she’d won something. Uncle RJ was always good at everything when it came to sports, so it shouldn’t have mattered to him. But because it mattered to my mom, he was clearly a dick about it.”

“Typical sibling animosity. My sister and I had a lot of animosity toward each other growing up, always vying for our parents’ attention. Bickering. We’re close now, though.”

“Precisely. Anyway, after Mom passed, Uncle RJ sent me a letter with his condolences. It was weird, because I never spoke to him, but I accepted his condolences and sent him a thank-you note in return. Then he sent me an update on his life . . . not sure why? Maybe he felt the need to be connected. Who knows? But . . . he sent a newspaper clipping of his engagement announcement, a picture of him and his fiancée.”