Page 52 of The Wedding Run
“She might be right here!” Roxie aims the spatula at the door leading to The Brew’s main area, then at my chest. “If it didn’t mean something to you, you wouldn’t be so worried about asking her to dinner if you didn't think it was a date.”
She’s right. She’s always right. And she knows it.
Roxie sets the spatula on the counter and comes over to me. She turns me toward the door with a gentle push. “Now go. Get it over with.”
I stumble through the doorway into the shop’s front. Seeing Libby standing at the big window makes me swallow hard. She’s all alone.
“Where’s Derek?” I ask.
She turns toward me, and I see a wistfulness in her eyes. “He left.”
“You okay?”
“Sure.” She gestures to an area beside the picturesque window that provides a view of Storyteller’s Lane, which leads down the middle of town to the park and gazebo. “I was thinking,” she says, “what if we do it here?”
Her question makes me think about that kiss. “Do what exactly?”
“The wedding cake,” she explains. “We need a place to cut the cake. Could make for some beautiful photos.”
“Right.” I nod and look over the area. “I have a table in the storage area that might work.”
“Can you show it to me?” she asks.
“Sure.” I lead her through the small kitchen where Roxie eyes us, then on to a storage room out of earshot.Just ask her.
Libby almost bumps into me, and I turn and catch her, hands on her shoulders.
“Sorry,” she mumbles.
“Uh, Libby,” I stumble over myself.
“Luke,” she says, “would you have dinner with me tonight?”
My heart catches on a beat. “I was going to ask you the same question.”
“You were?”
Her eyes darken. “Luke, before you get any ideas. Or maybe before I get any, I’m sorry about earlier. You know, the kiss. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I’m sorry. And then again, I’m not. I mean. It was a great kiss.”
That admission flips my insides around.
“But like I said,” she continues, “it can’t happen again.”
That settles my insides.
“Or it shouldn’t,” she continues. “I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I just ended an engagement, and I’m trying to figure out my life. This is not the right time. But I like you, Luke. I do. Probably more than I should. You’re kind, attentive, helpful, and of course attractive.”
I realize I’m nodding along with what she’s saying, but inside I’m thinking,No, no, no.
“I mean,” she adds, “who am I kidding? Clearly, you’re a catch. Even Benelope, or whatever her name is, was upset when she thought you had married someone else. So, who wouldn’t want to marry you or kiss you or…” She draws a sharp breath. “But we should take a step back.”
“By having dinner?” I ask, feeling like I’ve been on that stupid teacup ride at Disney World, and I can't tell up from down.
“Yes, I mean, no. What I mean is that I want to have dinner with you as a thank you for all you’ve done for me this week.You’ve been really kind when I needed a friend. And when Derek showed up today, you were cool about everything. And I appreciate it. I do. I put you in an awkward situation with your business partner. I had no right to do that. I’m sorry. I’m confused and need to sort through my thoughts and feelings. But I want to properly thank you. Because you deserve it.” She finishes, out of breath, as if she’s run the Atlanta Marathon.
I attempt to untangle my own thoughts.
“Did I step on your toes?” she asks. “I’m sorry. I keep saying that. I’ve been misleading you, flirting when I shouldn’t have, kissing you when I shouldn’t have. And you asked me on a date, and I even preempted you, making you think… well, I don’t know what I made you think. But I’m sorry. If you’re looking for romance or something more, I’m sorry.”
