Page 102 of Once Smitten, Twice Shy

Dad lets my silence hang for a while, then says, “You and I…I know we aren’t real big talkers, but, so you know, if you everdoneed to talk, I’m here, son. I love you. You can tell me anything.”

I peer up at him, my heart picking up its pace, searching for the words, how to begin.

He clears his throat. “Just…wanted to say that. In case you had any doubt.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I swallow roughly. “That…means a lot. And…I love you, too.”

There’s a shriek inside the house—Eleanor’s for sure, followed by banging doors. She and Miranda are probably playing tag hide-and-go-seek, because Eleanor’s like Hector—if she doesn’t get her zoomies out, she’ll never fall asleep.

Quiet settles again in the air, crickets chirping in the grass. I pluck at the guitar because it helps to give me something to do, as I try to formulate my thoughts, as I work up the courage to ask what I’ve been wanting to since I came home Sunday night. After everything changed with Juliet.

“Dad,” I say quietly.

He doesn’t look at me, just keeps on plucking at the banjo. “Yes, son.”

“When…you met Mom, when you first got married, you two weren’t in love, right?”

He hesitates. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

“But that’s how you tell the story.”

“That’s how yourmothertells the story,” he says. “Took her a while to realize she was madly in love with me—don’t know why.” He winks the way I do, the only way we can—a double blink, eyes crinkled tight at the corners.

I frown at him, stunned. I’ve grown up being told my parents married at first because it was the least expensive, most efficient way to combine their adjacent properties, to allow them to begin a shared vision for their land and business that they believed in. And then, gradually, they fell in love.

“So it was Mom who wasn’t sure at first?” I ask.

He tips his head from side to side. “Think she knew. She was just too scared to admit it.”

“Why?”

“ ’Cause it happened so fast,” he says, picking at the banjo, his gaze far off. The wind rustles his silver hair. A small smile lifts the corner of his mouth, and he scratches at the side of his beard. “She just…needed time, to settle into it.”

“But for you?”

“For me…” He shrugs. “It was love at first sight, but I’ll admit I only understand that now in hindsight. I didn’t know I loved her at first, either.”

My hands slip on the strings, sending a twanging, out-of-tune note ringing through the air My heart starts pounding inside my chest. “What do you mean?”

He’s quiet for so long that anyone else might be uncomfortable with our stretched-out silence. But I know him. I’mlikehim in this way. I just sit there quietly and wait.

“The first time I met your mother,” he finally says, “it was like, all my life, the way I saw my world was as a house, with a known set of rooms, each for a place in my life—work, friends, family, hobbies, interests. I was so sure those were all the rooms there were for me. But when I met your mother, it was like…another door appeared in my world, and I knew there wasn’t just another room on the other side of that door but a whole universe.”

My heart’s flying, my breathing tight, as I listen to him.

He peers down at the banjo, picking softly. “I don’t know if you believe in soulmates, Will, but I think that’s who your soulmate is—someone whose existence blows your world wide open, someone who makes you want to be brave and curious. When I saw your mother, I felt a sense of possibility like I’d never felt with anyone else. I didn’t know her, but I wanted to. I didn’t think I loved her yet, but there was nothing I wanted more than to open that door she’d made appear and walk, hand in hand with her, into all that possibility. Soon enough, I figured out what that wanting was.” He glances my way and shrugs. “Love.”

“When?” I ask. “How?”

He blows out a breath. “I wish I could tell you. It just…crept up on me. It wasn’t like I suddenly woke up one day, sat across from her at the table, sipping my coffee, and sensed a damn lick ofdifference in how I felt about her. It wasn’t the feeling that had changed or grown. I just…finally had a name for it.”

I sigh heavily, eyes down on the guitar as I pluck slowly at its strings, my mind turning. Could it be that simple? Have I loved Juliet since she blew my world wide open, I just haven’t recognized it for what it is?

“This about that lady you’ve been driving down to court every weekend?” he asks. “A certain Juliet?”

My hand slips on the guitar again, another off-key twang ringing in the air. “How’d you know?”

Dad grins. “Your mother, Will, has been on the phone—good Lord, has she been on that phone—talking with your young lady’s mother. I remember them getting along well enough, through Fee, but now? Those two are as thick as thieves.”

---