Page 51 of When You Wish Upon a Wideout

Sienna’s throat bobbled with a heavy swallow.

“That’s what you said, right? Back on our first official date? You don’t need anything fancy. Only a trip to the planetarium.” His eyes softened.

“So you took me here because it used to be the planetarium?”

Beau nodded. “I promised I would.”

Sienna pressed her lips together. “And why did you buy an apartment here too?”

“I wanted a stake in the space. If things had gone differently, if I had done things differently…I like to think it would’ve been our place. I was looking for pieces of you everywhere.”

Sienna’s eyes fell.

Beau shifted beside her. “You don’t believe me.”

“I don’t really know what to believe,” she said, shaking her head.

“Do you believe me when I say I remember everything?” Beau asked, and when Sienna stayed quiet, he continued. “You told me you wanted me to kiss you under all the stars. Real and fake. That was on your wish list.”

“I might’ve said something like that.”

Her mind swirled to the evening of their first date. She could remember Beau’s sweaty palms after facing her father, the sigh of relief he let out when they drove off in his truck for a picnic in the meadow outside of town. They ate sandwiches and ice cream that the cooler couldn’t keep frozen. They kissed for so long that neither realized they had rolled off the blanket and into the dirt.

Sienna looked down, expecting to find the grass stain left on the blue blouse she had worn that day instead of the dress she currently had on. The memory was so strong that when her eyes raised to Beau, it was almost as if she was looking at him sixteen years ago. He was clean-shaven then with longer hair and no crow’s feet flanking his eyes. She was thinner and lighter in many ways. They had driven his loud, dusty truck, the well-worn seats a far contrast from the sleek sports car he had picked her up in tonight.

Sienna inched closer, lost in the moment's nostalgia where everything was right, when she didn’t shy away with hesitation from Beau’s touch and instead sought it out, fighting for one last kiss, one more shared breath, a last moment of his delicious weight on top of her.

Her eyes flickered from his lips to the recessed lighting of the ceiling. But while it was tastefully done, dim and warm, the bulbs weren’t stars.

“Just wait,” Beau whispered, as if he could read her mind.

chaptereight

Beau neededto remind himself to wait as well. As much as he wanted to wine and dine Sienna, to make her feel every way she deserved, all Beau could think of was lying down nose to nose with her, counting the lightest freckles that painted her cheeks, wondering if more had grown since they had last been in that position. He wanted to trace his finger from the top of her hairline, down her sloped nose, into the valley of her Cupid’s bow, and over her full lips.

They were nearly that close, Sienna having turned her body to his, her bare knee pressing into his leg. Beau was a ball of tension as he strained to hold back, but the rigid knot loosened—and he nearly jumped—when Sienna reached for his hand, resting it on her bare thigh.

Her whisper tickled Beau’s lips. “I lied before.”

“About what?”

“I wasn’t nervous,” she admitted. “You made me remember what butterflies felt like.”

“I want to make you remember what everything feels like.” He abandoned Sienna’s hand only to tug her bottom lip free from her teeth. “I want you to remember how the world looks when you’re happy.”

But under the glow of Il Cielo, seeing the soft smile dancing across Sienna’s face after her admission, a tough realization struck Beau. The smile only went so high, flaring her cheeks and going no further, as if there was something inside Sienna—who had known too much grief and too much tragedy—keeping it from reaching her eyes.

Their locked gaze broke when the waitstaff approached the table. Sienna looked questioningly at the array of covered plates placed in front of them and, at the last one, a silver box.

“Thanks, George. I’ve got it from here.”

“This,” Sienna began, running a finger over the metal box, “is freezing.”

Beau pushed the box away. “That’s dessert.” He reached for the lids covering the plates, pulling them off. “Let’s start with these.” He focused on the table but tried to catch a glimpse of Sienna from the corner of his eye.

Slowly, she reached out, picking up half of a sandwich from the large plate, inspecting it curiously. Beau turned his head a little more, watching her place it back down and pick up a chip.

“Peanut butter and Fluff.” Beau cleared his throat. “With a side of—”

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