Page 121 of Meant to Be

“Where?”

“At the Reservoir.”

“Can I meet you there?”

She hesitated, then gave me some excuse about how the paparazzi were more likely to recognize her if she was with me. But I was determined to see her, already lacing up my Nikes.

A minute later, I was out the door, hightailing it up to the park. When I got to the Reservoir, I began walking clockwise against the foot traffic, searching for her. About half a loop around, I spotted her running toward me. Wearing all black, she looked so strong—her pace faster than usual.

She didn’t see me until she was right on me, but as soon as she did, she gave me a smile. It was a good sign.

“Fancy seeing you here!” I said, grinning at her.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’re too much,” she said, leaning down to put her hands on her knees and catch her breath.

“I had to see you,” I said.

She stood up straight, then stared into my eyes, her expression impossible to read. “Well. Here I am.”

“Yes. A sight for sore eyes…Mind if I join you?”

“Do I have a choice?” she said with a laugh.

I smiled back at her and said no.

“Well. Come on, then,” she said, jogging away from me and motioning over her shoulder for me to join her.

I took a deep breath, then reversed direction, catching up to her. For the next twenty minutes or so, we ran in silence as I struggled to keep up with her. At one point, she suddenly stopped, abruptly swerving off the path. She then plopped down onto the ground and began to stretch. I followed her, sitting cross-legged in the grass beside her, waiting for her to say something.

When she didn’t, I cleared my throat and said, “Okay, Cate. What’s going on? You’re not yourself.”

“I told you. I’m just feeling overwhelmed,” she said, avoiding my gaze as she spread her legs in a V shape and touched her nose to one knee, then the other.

“Are you getting cold feet?” I asked her point-blank.

“I wouldn’t say cold feet,” she said, waffling. “I just think we’re moving…a little fast.”

“Okay. We can slow it down…if that’s what you really want.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I just think we should do that for now. You need to focus on your campaign. Give it your all. You can’t have any distractions right now.”

“You’re not a distraction.”

“Weddings are a distraction,” she said. “Look at Peter and Genevieve. They’re consumed….”

“We aren’t having that kind of wedding.”

“Still. If the media finds out…”

“Would you rather just elope?”

“Joe. Stop!” she said. “I told you what I wanted! I want to wait! You’re not listening!”

“Okay, honey,” I said, putting my hand on her leg. “Calm down.”

She pushed my hand away and said, “Don’t tell me to calm down! I hate when you do that!”

I looked at her, surprised, because I couldn’t remember a single instance when I’d ever told her to calm down. I almost pointed this out but decided that probably wasn’t a good idea. Instead, I just apologized.

---