Page 45 of The Story of Us
Sawyer was beginning to get an idea what her surprise invitation had really been about.
She tilted her head and studied him in a way that made his pulse kick up a notch. “You know, you say you’re a ‘hometown boy,’ but did you actually miss your hometown while you were away?”
“Honestly?” He didn’t realize how ashamed he was of the truth until he had to say it out loud. “I’ve been too busy with work or looking for the next project to do much of anything else.”
Jamie didn’t judge him, though. That had never been her style. Instead, she twirled in a quick little spin on her toes and waved at him to follow her. “Then let me remind you of what you left behind.”
Okay, then.
Sawyer jogged to catch up with her, and what followed could only be described as a determined effort on Jamie’s part to reacquaint him with every square inch of Waterford, with no stone left unturned.
They started at the duck pond, where a pair of cruiser bicycles were waiting for them. One of them belonged to Jamie and the other looked suspiciously like one Sawyer had seen recently in Rick’s garage. Sawyer couldn’t remember the last time he’d ridden a bike that hadn’t been bolted to the floor of a gym. He climbed aboard and pedaled after Jamie, appreciating the difference within seconds. The wind rippled through his hair, numbing his face as they made a wide loop around the water, weaving in and around oak trees, branches tipped green with the promise of new spring growth.
They zipped past couples walking hand-in-hand and parents with small children whose fingertips were nestled in homemade knitted mittens—the kind Sawyer’s grandmother had made for him when he was a boy. The old lampposts lining the path had been painted bright cherry-red since he’d moved away, and new park benches perched at the water’s edge. Ducks lingered nearby, waiting for someone to take a seat and toss them some cracked corn.
From the duck pond, they made their way to the park, traveling down the bike lane that hugged Main Street. Jamie’s hair streamed behind her in lustrous gold ribbon as she led the way.
They parked their bikes beneath the shade of a willow tree swaying in the gentle Pacific breeze, and Jamie surprised him with a picnic lunch hidden in the wicker basket hanging from her bike’s handlebars. He could tell at first glance that Rick had nothing to do with the meal. Instead of gourmet fare, they dined on PB&J, apples and kettle chips, which had been the exact lunch Jamie always brought to school in a brown paper sack. It was the best meal he’d tasted in years, even though swallowing proved difficult with such an aching longing in his throat.
Next up was a walk through the tea garden on the banks of the old waterlily pond, as breathlessly beautiful as a Monet painting. Huge orange and white koi fish splashed at their feet, and the water seemed to dance with silvery light. A tour of Waterford wouldn’t have been complete without a stop at True Love, though, which Jamie saved for the grand finale.
The shop had long closed by the time they arrived, but the courtyard was lit with the welcoming glow of hundreds of twinkling fairy lights. Jamie wound her hair into a slouchy cashmere beanie and grinned at him as she took a seat at the café table closest to the fountain, where flowers floated in the water, swirling with pink and red petals.
Sawyer sat down opposite her and tried to remind himself that they weren’t on a date. She’d been perfectly honest about her intentions, and they were in no way romantic. She was on a mission to remind him what he’d left behind when he’d moved away from Waterford.
Mission accomplished.
A keen sense of loss burrowed deep in his gut—an open wound that somehow felt as fresh as if he’d packed up and walked away yesterday instead of fifteen years ago. He’d missed this place more than he’d realized, but it was more than that. He’d missedher.
He still missed Jamie.
He wouldn’t have thought it possible to miss someone who was right there, close enough to touch, but it was. He missed the warmth of the small of her back against his palm. He missed the smell of her hair, cool and lush, like frosted rose petals. He missed kissing her…of course he did.
But most of all, he missed knowing she was his. She wasn’t anymore, and it was all his fault. He couldn’t blame Eric the councilman for his interest in her, nor could he blame Matt the dentist. He couldn’t even blame the past, because the real barrier standing between them didn’t have anything to do with choices they’d made yesterday. The biggest problem was firmly rooted in the here and now.
He balled his hands into fists under the table and tried not to imagine them tearing down her bookstore, brick by beloved brick. He was so caught in that image that it startled him when Jamie slid something toward him. It was the box—the one from the newspaper article withThe Story of Usprinted across the front, like the title of a book. Jamie glanced down at it, so he opened the lid and found a bundle of old letters inside.
Sawyer read them, one by one, in the soft light of the courtyard. At first, he kept glancing up at Jamie, because it felt strange reading such private correspondence between two people who were clearly very deeply in love while she watched. There were more than a few parallels between Mary and Harrison and himself and Jamie. Surely she’d noticed.
But the more he read, the more lost he became in their story. And it wasn’t until he reached the end and their fate became clear that he was able to breathe again.
At last, he looked back up.
Jamie took a deep breath and motioned toward the fragile paper in his hand. “They wrote to each other throughout his time away in the war. And then when he got back, they started True Love books. Her father originally owned this building, but Harris loved books so much he got the entire property and the rest is…”
Her voice drifted off, and Sawyer finished for her. “History.”
Jamie nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
He glanced around, and even though he’d known True Love for as long as he’d known Jamie, it felt like he was seeing it—reallyseeing it—for the very first time. “This is just such a special place. The store, the courtyard, the tree…”
It towered above them, its branches shimmering in the moonlight.
“I’ve always thought so. And then to find these Valentines from old customers—I mean, people who went out, picked out a card and wrote in their appreciation for True Love Books.” She sighed. “It just makes it that much more special.”
Their gazes locked, and a deep calm came over him. For the first time since he’d come home, it finally felt like they were seeing eye to eye. Maybe…just maybe…
Sawyer’s pulse thundered in his ears. Was it crazy that he was thinking about kissing her again? Probably. Yet even though he knew it was a terrible idea, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was thinking about it too. Yes. Yes, she was. He would have bet his life on it. Her cheeks flushed pink, and then her lips parted, and all of Sawyer’s breath stalled in his lungs.
