The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(70)
“I don’t want Val back.”
“But you love Emmy, and she loves her mom. She wants you two back together.” Steffi stared at him from a spot next to the hearth of the home that could be theirs if they tried and succeeded. “If there was any chance to give her back her family, you might try. I know you. I know what you value.”
“Then you know I value honesty. Val cheated on me for a while before she had the balls to ask for the divorce. She didn’t have the courage to walk out until she had someone else waiting. I can’t respect her now, let alone take her back.” He shook his head.
“She could beg. Emmy could beg.” Steffi sighed. “It’s possible, that’s all I’m saying.”
As he approached her, she got fidgety. “So then, why ask me out at all?”
“Because it’s been torture to sit on these feelings. To wonder. At least now I know where I stand.” She flashed a wan smile, then attempted a joke. “So now that you’ve dashed my romantic hopes, can you at least reconsider buying this house?”
“I can’t make any promises about this house, although I’d love to say yes.” Then he tossed all logic aside and came so close they were almost nose to nose. “But if the offer for dinner stands, maybe we can give that a try.”
Chapter Fifteen
Steffi sat in the passenger seat of Ryan’s Jeep, resisting the urge to tug at her shirt or fix her hair. She’d paired black jeans with an off-the-shoulder pale-green shirt with bell sleeves. Claire had convinced her to borrow a gold necklace and earrings, too. Honestly, Ryan had seen her turning purple in the ice-cold ocean not long ago, so it probably didn’t matter what she wore tonight.
“Are you serious?” Ryan asked, a half grin spreading across his face.
He’d dressed well tonight, too. Dark denim jeans, a collared shirt, and an unstructured beige jacket. Once again, he’d worn cologne. She’d find him sexy in sweats and a T-shirt, but appreciated the effort.
“Dead serious. Wait here.” She opened the passenger door and walked into Campiti’s to pick up the pizza and Cherikee Red sodas she’d called in.
Another woman might try to avoid anything that would bring up the past when it wasn’t exactly a point in her favor. Steffi had considered and then rejected the avoidance route. Their past—the good and the bad—was inescapably the foundation upon which anything new must be built.
Foundational cracks couldn’t be ignored or whitewashed in any kind of renovation. They required reconstruction to ensure stability. Taking that cue, Steffi planned for their official reunion date to honor what they once were, discover how well they still understood each other, and acknowledge they were also two people who’d become strangers in many ways.
As soon as she stepped inside the pizza joint, the salty, greasy aroma of the restaurant stoked her hunger and erased her nerves. Two pizzas might’ve been overkill, but Ryan could eat an entire large pepperoni-and-mushroom pie by himself. Or he used to be able to, anyway.
When she returned to the car, she said, “Now let’s go to the high school.”
“The high school?” He turned on the ignition and checked the rearview mirror before pulling away from the curb. “Bold move, taking this trip down memory lane.”
She knew he’d catch on quickly. “We might as well embrace what was. It’s part of us and who we were but doesn’t define who we are now or what we could become.”
His crooked smile always stopped her heart. “Sounds like a plan.”
Wherever the night might lead, this moment filled her with giddy happiness. Few experiences in life matched romantic beginnings—that buzz that wound its way through the body and pooled in the stomach and just below. If she could figure out how to slow the clock, she would marinate in the beginning of everything so it would sink in and season all the days to come.
A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of their alma mater. The two-story redbrick building hadn’t changed much this past decade, at least not on the outside. It brought back memories of the white-and-blue-tile floors and rows of bright-yellow lockers where she’d met Ryan before lunch each day. The simple pleasures, like cheering him on at his games, and he at hers.
But they were grown-ups now with real problems and responsibilities. They lacked the freedom and novelty of adolescence to sustain and thrill them.
Her hands were full with the pizzas and sodas. “Can you grab the bag from the back seat?”
“Of course.” Ryan reached behind her to get the tote that had a blanket and some paper products.
Together they wandered to the stadium, which was situated not far from a winding inlet river that led to the town harbor. The picturesque setting suited them—their history, their love of sports, and the energy of youthful hope it evoked.
“Bleachers or sidelines?” she asked.
Ryan’s gaze strayed to the small group of boys kicking the ball around at one end of the field. The lights had flickered to life as the sun hit the horizon and the final hints of sunshine faded from the sky. “Bleachers.”
They climbed a few rows; the tinny clomp of their footsteps on metal pierced the brisk fall air. She created a table of sorts by setting the pizza one row above the one where they sat.
“It’s been a long while since I’ve come here.” Ryan’s eyes went back to the boys on the field. “How many hours did we spend that way?”