about the elephant in the room?”
“What elephant in the room?” Nikki asked, returning.
“Amy and Kendall used to be a hot item,” Porter said nonchalantly, then handed her a glass of wine.
Nikki’s mouth rounded and she shot Amy an apologetic glance.
“It was a long time ago,” Amy said quickly.
“To old times,” Kendall said, lifting his glass, “and to building bridges.”
She couldn’t very well decline the toast, Amy thought wryly, lifting her glass to clink with the others. The bandage on Kendall’s thumb reminded her of his “favor” for Rachel Hutchins, and she took a deeper drink than she’d meant to.
Kendall looked at her over the rim of his glass, his expression soft and blurred. Was he thinking of graduation night, when they’d snuck a bottle of cheap zinfandel to the bridge and sat on the edge with legs dangling, drinking it from paper cups? It had made them tipsy and giggly and Kendall had made promises about all the adventures they’d have together. Afterward, they’d made such sweet love… It was the last really good memory she had of them together.
Days later, he’d left to join the Air Force while she’d been tethered to Sweetness to take care of the sickly aunt who’d taken her in. Amy’s loneliness had been exacerbated by her aunt’s bitterness and the nagging sense that she was missing out on the life she was meant to have. But when her aunt had passed away a scant few weeks later, Amy had been besieged with guilt, yet eager to leave. When Kendall had come home for the funeral, he’d backpedaled on the promises he’d made. He’d told Amy they shouldn’t be in such a rush to get married, that she should take some correspondence courses and that he’d be back for her. Heartbroken, she’d packed a bag and left Sweetness to strike out on her own.
And here she was, Amy mused, back in Sweetness and sharing another bottle of wine with the man who’d driven her away.
“Let’s sit,” Nikki offered, now noticeably nervous about the situation she’d created.
Amy felt compelled to put her friend at ease. After all, it was her fault for not mentioning sooner her true connection to the Armstrong family. Kendall held out her chair and she thanked him politely, then took a seat, not entirely pleased when he sat in the chair adjacent to hers. But in deference to her friend, Amy tried to relax and keep the conversation on neutral topics as the meal progressed.
Since the future seemed a safer subject than the past, she asked questions about the progress of the town, mostly directed at Porter and Nikki. If Kendall chose to respond, she took a bite of food or a drink from her glass to avoid eye contact. Twice under the table his knee brushed hers. She couldn’t tell if it was accidental or purposeful, but she was unnerved all the same by the sensations that bolted through her. Instead of growing more calm in his presence, every minute seemed to heighten the feelings she’d spent years trying to suppress.
The affection between Nikki and Porter was obvious. They often touched and shared private smiles that made Amy’s heart squeeze with admiration and envy. As the night wore on, she found herself stealing glances at Kendall and trying to figure out what he was thinking. But Kendall, ever the placid Armstrong, remained inscrutable.
When Nikki unveiled the “dessert” Kendall had brought, Amy’s pulse jumped.
“Double-fudge brownie cake,” Nikki announced, setting the decadent concoction on the table. She smiled at Kendall. “I didn’t know you had such a sweet tooth.”
Amy squirmed. Had he remembered her penchant for chocolate? The round cake was three layers high, dripping with dark fudge icing and topped with dark chocolate shavings. The sweet, rich aroma alone made her mouth water, but she steeled herself against the cravings that surged in her body. To her, the chocolate cake represented a meager effort to appease her. And after all these years, after all she’d
“What elephant in the room?” Nikki asked, returning.
“Amy and Kendall used to be a hot item,” Porter said nonchalantly, then handed her a glass of wine.
Nikki’s mouth rounded and she shot Amy an apologetic glance.
“It was a long time ago,” Amy said quickly.
“To old times,” Kendall said, lifting his glass, “and to building bridges.”
She couldn’t very well decline the toast, Amy thought wryly, lifting her glass to clink with the others. The bandage on Kendall’s thumb reminded her of his “favor” for Rachel Hutchins, and she took a deeper drink than she’d meant to.
Kendall looked at her over the rim of his glass, his expression soft and blurred. Was he thinking of graduation night, when they’d snuck a bottle of cheap zinfandel to the bridge and sat on the edge with legs dangling, drinking it from paper cups? It had made them tipsy and giggly and Kendall had made promises about all the adventures they’d have together. Afterward, they’d made such sweet love… It was the last really good memory she had of them together.
Days later, he’d left to join the Air Force while she’d been tethered to Sweetness to take care of the sickly aunt who’d taken her in. Amy’s loneliness had been exacerbated by her aunt’s bitterness and the nagging sense that she was missing out on the life she was meant to have. But when her aunt had passed away a scant few weeks later, Amy had been besieged with guilt, yet eager to leave. When Kendall had come home for the funeral, he’d backpedaled on the promises he’d made. He’d told Amy they shouldn’t be in such a rush to get married, that she should take some correspondence courses and that he’d be back for her. Heartbroken, she’d packed a bag and left Sweetness to strike out on her own.
And here she was, Amy mused, back in Sweetness and sharing another bottle of wine with the man who’d driven her away.
“Let’s sit,” Nikki offered, now noticeably nervous about the situation she’d created.
Amy felt compelled to put her friend at ease. After all, it was her fault for not mentioning sooner her true connection to the Armstrong family. Kendall held out her chair and she thanked him politely, then took a seat, not entirely pleased when he sat in the chair adjacent to hers. But in deference to her friend, Amy tried to relax and keep the conversation on neutral topics as the meal progressed.
Since the future seemed a safer subject than the past, she asked questions about the progress of the town, mostly directed at Porter and Nikki. If Kendall chose to respond, she took a bite of food or a drink from her glass to avoid eye contact. Twice under the table his knee brushed hers. She couldn’t tell if it was accidental or purposeful, but she was unnerved all the same by the sensations that bolted through her. Instead of growing more calm in his presence, every minute seemed to heighten the feelings she’d spent years trying to suppress.
The affection between Nikki and Porter was obvious. They often touched and shared private smiles that made Amy’s heart squeeze with admiration and envy. As the night wore on, she found herself stealing glances at Kendall and trying to figure out what he was thinking. But Kendall, ever the placid Armstrong, remained inscrutable.
When Nikki unveiled the “dessert” Kendall had brought, Amy’s pulse jumped.
“Double-fudge brownie cake,” Nikki announced, setting the decadent concoction on the table. She smiled at Kendall. “I didn’t know you had such a sweet tooth.”
Amy squirmed. Had he remembered her penchant for chocolate? The round cake was three layers high, dripping with dark fudge icing and topped with dark chocolate shavings. The sweet, rich aroma alone made her mouth water, but she steeled herself against the cravings that surged in her body. To her, the chocolate cake represented a meager effort to appease her. And after all these years, after all she’d
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