Page 60 of Most Likely to Deny Love (Yearbook #2)
JACK
T he crisp mountain air filled my lungs as I stood at the edge of the scenic overlook, hands shoved in my pockets against the December chill.
Below me, the valley stretched out in a patchwork of evergreens and exposed rock, dusted with snow like powdered sugar on a dark cake.
Pickles bounded through the sparse underbrush, nose to the ground, tail wagging with undisguised joy at being free from the car after our long drive.
I checked my watch. Still making good time. The detour had been worth it, both for Pickles’ sake and my own. The silence up here cleared my head in a way nothing else could, giving me space to think without the constant noise of doubts and second-guesses that had plagued me since Thanksgiving.
Since the moment I realized what Mia had become to me.
The florist had confirmed delivery of the flowers yesterday.
I pictured her face when she received them, those gorgeous gray eyes widening in surprise, maybe a smile tugging at her lips when she read my note.
Some distances are worth crossing. Not just the physical miles between Esperance and Colorado, but the careful boundaries we’d constructed around our arrangement.
The walls I’d built to keep everyone at a safe distance.
Pickles appeared at my side, tongue lolling, a stick clutched triumphantly in his jaws. I scratched behind his ears, earning an appreciative head butt against my palm.
“Ready to go, boy? We’ve got places to be.”
His intelligent eyes seemed to understand the weight of our mission as he trotted obediently to the car, hopping into the back seat. I took one last look at the panoramic view, breathing in the clean, cold air, before sliding behind the wheel.
The remainder of the drive passed in a blur of winding mountain roads and familiar landmarks. As I pulled into Nan’s driveway, the sun was beginning its early winter descent, casting long shadows across her neatly maintained front lawn.
Lights glowed warm and inviting in the windows as I approached the door I didn’t even need to knock. The heavy oak door swung open to reveal Nan, leaning on her cane but standing straight and proud as ever.
“You made good time. Come in before you freeze.”
I bent to kiss her cheek, breathing in the familiar scent of her lavender perfume. “You’re looking well.”
“Liar,” she scoffed, but her eyes crinkled with affection. “I look like death warmed over and we both know it. But I appreciate the sentiment.”
She led me through the foyer into the living room, where a fire crackled in the stone hearth. Two cups of tea steamed on the coffee table, alongside a plate of the ginger cookies I’d loved since childhood.
“Sit,” she commanded, lowering herself carefully into her favorite armchair. Pickles immediately settled at her feet, resting his head on her slippers with a contented sigh.
I took the seat across from her, wrapping my hands around the warm teacup. The familiar ritual felt comforting, grounding, in the face of what I’d come to discuss.
Nan wasted no time on pleasantries. “I’m assuming you’re here to tell me why you pretended to be engaged to that lovely young woman.”
My eyebrows rose in surprise. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t, at first,” she admitted, her shrewd blue eyes never leaving my face. “You had me completely fooled, which is no small feat. It was only when you two danced around setting an actual wedding date that I grew suspicious.” She took a delicate sip of her tea, watching me over the rim.
“Very astute of you.”
“Of course. I am, however, confused as to why you dropped Mia off in Esperance, only to turn right around and come back here.”
I set my cup down, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. “Because I need your help, Nan.”
“With what, exactly?”
“With turning my fake engagement into a real one.”
“Excellent.”