Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Meadow

I stand back, wiping my hands on my apron, and take in the sight of the gallery. It's finally starting to come together. The walls are freshly painted, the lighting is just right, and the pieces are beginning to find their place. My grandmother and Jane are here with me, helping set things up. Well, Jane is helping. My grandmother is mostly supervising, offering her endless opinions.

"That wall needs more color," Grandma says, squinting at one of the displays. "Something bright. Or bold. You don't want people falling asleep in here."

Jane snorts as she adjusts a frame. "Because art galleries are so famous for putting people to sleep." Then she throws me a look, like she's wondering if Grandma's been dipping into the wine reserved for the opening.

I laugh, shaking my head. "It's supposed to be calm and welcoming, Grandma. Not a carnival."

"Calm is fine, but boring? That won't do. Not if you want people talking about your gallery for weeks." She winks at me, a mischievous grin on her face. "My friends from New York are coming, you know. I want them to say ‘wow,' not ‘blah.'"

"They'll be wowed. Trust me, they'll be talking about this place for years," I assure her, hoping that's true.

As we work, Jane sets down a stack of art pieces and stretches her arms. "Speaking of people talking . . . have you heard the latest rumors about Raffa?"

I freeze for a second, pretending to fuss with a painting. Of course, they'd bring him up. I should ignore it, but I can't help myself. "No. What now?"

Jane gives me a teasing smile. "Well, apparently, there's gossip that he's leaving town soon. Then there are rumors he's staying and becoming a carpenter. But the most believable one? He's supposedly opening a law firm right here in Kentbury."

I try to keep my face neutral, but my stomach twists at the thought of him leaving. Why is the idea of him staying—or leaving—affecting me so much? It's not like we're . . . anything. Yet the thought of him staying sparks a glimmer of hope. Maybe we could kiss again? Is that even something that might happen?

Jane narrows her eyes, seeing right through me. "And what would you say if he stays? A lawyer in Kentbury could be a game changer."

Grandma jumps in before I can respond. "It'd be great for business. God knows we could use legal help around here without having to call some big-shot lawyer from Burlington or Boston."

"Yeah," I mutter, focusing too intently on hanging another frame. "A lawyer in town would be useful." Especially since I've been imagining all sorts of ways I could use him. His mouth, his hands, his . . .

My thoughts are clearly not as subtle as I'd like, because Jane isn't letting it go. She gives me that I'm onto you look. "Useful? Sure, but that's not really what we're talking about, is it?"

Grandma chuckles, and now I know I'm trapped. They've cornered me. "Come on, Meadow," she says, leaning against the counter with a knowing grin. "It's obvious you and Raffa have . . . chemistry."

"He's older than me," I blurt, grasping at straws. "I don't think he's interested in someone so young." That should keep them off my case, right? It's not like I really care about his age. Ten years is nothing, but I can use it as a good excuse to shoo them away, hopefully.

But Jane just crosses her arms, smirking. "Uh-huh, and the festival is why you've been blushing every time someone mentions his name?"

"I am not blushing," I insist, though my cheeks are definitely betraying me. Damn it.

"Yes, you are," Grandma says with a teasing grin. "Look, honey, all we're saying is you two look cute together. The whole town's noticed. People are talking."

I groan, turning to face them. "People are always talking. It doesn't mean anything."

Jane raises an eyebrow, not letting up. "Doesn't it? You're spending all this time with him, and it's not just about the festival, is it?"

I bite my lip, unsure how to respond. The truth is . . . I do like Raffa, a lot. More than I'm willing to admit, even to myself. But I'm still figuring it out. After everything that happened with Bryce—the Ass, the Bastard, the Cheater who'll never rhyme with nice—I'm not sure I'm ready for anything serious again.

Yet, with Raffa . . . it feels different. He's kind. He listens. He doesn't push. And yeah, he's ridiculously good-looking in that rugged, grumpy way that makes my stomach flip every time he cracks even the tiniest smile.

I sigh, finally giving in to their relentless stares. "Okay, fine. I might like him. A little. Maybe."

Grandma claps her hands, delighted. "Oh, I knew it. She's in love. Genie is going to be so happy. We always knew you two would be a perfect match."

"What?" I screech, I can't even correct her that I admitted to like him, not being in love. What is wrong with her and her friends? "You set us up?"

"Of course, sweetie," Grandma says, entirely too satisfied with herself. "After Bryce the Ass, I wasn't going to let you wallow in self-pity forever. And Raffa—well, that man needs a good woman, and that woman is you."

I shake my head in disbelief, my thoughts running wild. Meddling grandmas . . . I should've known. But deep down, I can't help the flutter of happiness. If someone had to meddle, at least it's Raffa they picked.

"So, what's the plan?" Jane asks, smirking. "Are you going to tell him how you feel, or just keep playing coy until someone else swoops in?"

I roll my eyes. "There's no plan. I'm not rushing into anything. Not after last time."

Grandma's tone softens, her eyes gentle. "Honey, we're not telling you to rush. We just want you to be happy. And from what I've seen, that man puts a smile on your face like no one else has in a long time."

I smile, feeling a little lighter. "Thanks, Grandma. I appreciate it. But I'll figure it out in my own time."

Jane sighs dramatically. "Fine, fine. We'll leave you be for now. But just know, if Raffa decides to stay in Kentbury, the whole town's going to be on your case until you two are together. Married."

"Yeah, well, we'll see what happens," I say, trying to keep my voice casual. But deep down, I know they're right. There's something between Raffa and me, something that feels . . . real. And if he stays, Kentbury won't stop meddling. That's just the nature of this town.

Maybe . . . just maybe, I'm ready to let myself fall again. And this time, it feels like I might be falling into something real.