Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

B y 4:30 that afternoon, Chloe was climbing the walls of her apartment. She’d played the conversation with Derek over and over in her mind and was just as unsettled as when he’d left two hours ago. Desperate for a change of scenery, she decided she’d just show up for dinner a bit early.

Again, she didn’t bother knocking on the mudroom door of the house. But unlike last time, she didn’t hesitate. She went straight to the kitchen where she heard voices.

“Chloe!” Emily smiled at her from the kitchen where she was chopping vegetables for a salad.

Sara sat at the bar opposite her mother. She was slicing a cucumber. “Hey, Chloe. Come and help.”

Chloe moved into the kitchen. “What can I do?”

“Do you mind setting the table?” Emily asked. “The silverware’s in that drawer.” She pointed to a drawer near one of the two commercial-size dishwashers. “And plates are up there.” She gestured to a cupboard over the silverware drawer.

Sara set down her knife. “I’ll get the placemats.” As she went to a cupboard over by the keg bar, she listed off names. “Let’s see, Mom, Dad, Chloe, me, Alex, Derek. Are Evan and Hayden coming?” she asked, turning toward Emily.

“I don’t know. Set places for them anyway.” Emily threw a smile at Chloe. “You never know who’s going to show up.”

Such . . . flexibility would send Chloe’s mother over the edge. “That doesn’t frustrate you?” Chloe asked, pulling the last of the silverware from the drawer. She’d grabbed knives, forks, and spoons, but now wondered if she should’ve maybe grabbed salad forks too. Her mother would say yes. And maybe that was why she hadn’t.

“They’re all busy, they get distracted, or they get a better offer.” Emily shrugged as she chopped up a tomato. “I don’t mind. I’m happy to have whoever’s here.”

Sara laid placemats on the table as Chloe joined her with the silverware. “Sure, but when there’s no one here, she’s bummed,” Sara whispered.

“Sara, don’t whisper, it’s not polite.”

“Sorry, Mom.” Sara grinned at Chloe and finished with the placemats before returning to her slicing job.

Emily chatted for a few minutes about this and that, but Chloe was only half listening. She was still consumed with thoughts of Derek and his reaction about his house. Before she could think better of it, she asked, “Why doesn’t Derek live in his house?”

Emily’s hands froze in mid-chop.

“Because he has a great loft,” Sara said, without missing a slice.

Emily finished with the tomato and swept it up into the salad bowl. Then she wiped her hands on her apron as she looked at Chloe.

Chloe finished laying the last fork down. “Why does it make him so uncomfortable? Is it because of his mom?”

“I think so, yes.” Emily came around the counter and leaned against the side. “He doesn’t talk about it much. To any of us.”

Sara spun her stool around to face them. “I thought he was going to sell it.”

Emily glanced at her daughter. “He decided not to, honey.” She returned her focus to Chloe. “It’s a very sensitive subject for Derek. Please be patient with him. The time is coming when he’s going to have to face his past once and for all.”

What did that mean? Chloe didn’t want to barrage the woman with questions, though. It was bad enough that she was talking to his family about such a personal subject. If Derek hadn’t wanted to discuss it, what right did she have talking about it with the Archers?

Emily moved forward and took Chloe’s hand. “I can see this troubles you, which tells me how much you care for Derek already.” She smiled warmly. “I’m so glad. I think he feels the same. At least, I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Or talk to anyone the way he talks to you. It’s lovely.”

“How’s that?” Sara asked, looking at her mother.

Emily turned, dropping Chloe’s hand and returning to the kitchen. “How people look when they’re falling in love.”

Sara made a little sound like a squeal and grinned at Chloe. “That’s so wonderful! Is it true, Chloe?”

“Uh . . .” She was literally at a loss for words. She hadn’t even considered that she was falling in love with Derek, but she was definitely falling in something. Was there such a thing as almost love?

“Oh, Sara, don’t put the girl on the spot. It’s bad enough I did it! I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Sara turned on the stool to look at her mom. “Then why did you?”

Emily laughed. “Sara, honey, I’m afraid I was being too motherly. Will you go and tell your dad that dinner is just about ready?”

“In a sec. How can you tell it’s love?”

Emily took a pair of oven mitts from a drawer and pulled them on her hands. “I’m not sure it is,” she said firmly, with an apologetic glance at Chloe. “I can only say that the way Derek looks at Chloe reminds me of how your dad looked at me way back when.”

Sara’s brow furrowed. “Doesn’t he still look at you that way?”

“Sure, just not in front of you people.” Emily laughed as she turned and opened the wall oven. She pulled a gorgeous stuffed tenderloin from the interior and set it on the counter. Then she picked up a long fork and opened the second oven. She prodded something inside, which Chloe couldn’t quite make out. “Roasted root vegetables aren’t quite done, but almost.”

“And what ‘way’ is it?” Sara asked, leaning forward, clearly entranced by the conversation. It was cute and gave Chloe a welcome reprieve from worrying about Derek.

Emily closed the oven and leaned against the back counter. She smiled, her gaze far-off as if she were seeing the past. “It’s a special look. How you look on that first perfect spring day. How you look when the first snowflake hits your nose in winter. How you look when you finish the last page of your favorite book for the tenth time. How you look when your babies are born.” She shook her head. “It’s a look that perfectly conveys the feeling of joy threatening to burst from your chest, like if you don’t let it go in some way, you’ll simply explode.”

“I hope I feel like that someday,” Sara said matter-of-factly.

Chloe realized she felt like that already. Was she really in love with him so soon? How had that happened? She tried to apply what Emily described to her past relationship with Ed, but she just couldn’t. Sure, she’d felt something for him and she remembered feeling giddy back in college, but in some ways it was because he was such a big deal. He was one of the top students at school, good looking, and he had the “right” name. That he’d wanted her over any other girl had been incredibly flattering. But it wasn’t the same as what she felt with Derek. This visceral feeling of rightness, of wanting to see him at every moment, wanting to share everything.

“Sara, go and get your dad,” Emily said, removing her oven mitts. “He needs to cut the pork.”

Emily glanced at the clock. It was just about five. And no one else had arrived. She gave Chloe a reassuring look. “The boys know dinner at five usually means five-fifteenish.”

Chloe nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“Will you put the rolls on the table?” Emily gestured to a basket sitting on the counter, covered with a festive red and green cloth.

Chloe grabbed the basket and put it on the table. “Butter?”

“There’s a dish out on the counter over there.”

Finding the butter dish, Chloe set it beside the rolls.

“I think you moving into Derek’s house is going to help him, though it may not seem like it now.” Emily closed her eyes briefly and gently shook her head. “None of this is my business.”

“It’s okay, I appreciate any advice. I don’t really know what to do. I seemed to have met Derek just when I needed to. He’s been so supportive—all of you have—and his house is the answer to my troubles, practically a Christmas miracle. It all just seems?—”

“Meant to be?” Emily’s mouth twisted into a faint smile. “Sorry, I’ve a bad habit of interrupting sometimes.”

“No, you’re right. It does feel like it’s meant to be. But then so does Derek. I can’t explain it. Things have moved so quickly, but he’s amazing.”

“He is. Which is astonishing, given his life.” Emily’s eyes turned sad. “He’s had a very difficult time.”

Chloe suspected as much, but hearing it twisted her heart. “He hasn’t said much about his mom.”

“No, I expect he hasn’t. And probably nothing about his dad?” Emily asked.

“His dad?” Derek hadn’t mentioned his father once, and Chloe had assumed he’d never been in the picture.

“I won’t say too much—it’s his story to tell—but he lost his dad when he was nine. Gloria, Derek’s mom, moved them here to start fresh.”

Chloe’s heart ached for Derek. She wished he’d told her this, but again, things had moved so quickly, maybe he just hadn’t had the chance.

Sara and Rob came into the kitchen just then, and Alex followed a minute behind them. They talked about the pub and how Chloe liked working there and then the conversation turned to Sara’s job as an event planner in Portland. She’d organized a lot of last night’s party and Chloe couldn’t help but be impressed.

She also couldn’t help glancing at the clock over and over again until she worried that she would get a crick in her neck. She watched as 5:15 came and went and when the door opened at 5:20, her heart lurched.

But it was only Hayden and Evan who barreled into the kitchen and took two of the open seats at the table. The meal was wonderful, despite the last place remaining conspicuously empty, much to Chloe’s disappointment.

It was incredibly inconsiderate of Derek to stand up not just her, but the entire family. Maybe it was her own rigid upbringing, but you didn’t say you’d be somewhere and then no-show. Not unless your house burned down.

But his house hadn’t burned down. It was whole and perfect and could very well put an end to something very beautiful.

He was such a jerk. Derek had ordered the most expensive bouquet the florist could make that afternoon and had just swung by to pick it up on the way to the pub. The scent of pine and roses filled his car, reminding him of Chloe’s hair.

Jerk wasn’t strong enough. He was a total asshole.

After freaking out on her yesterday, he’d stood her up at dinner and he hadn’t called or texted since. What kind of boyfriend did that? And yeah, he sort of thought he was her boyfriend after Saturday night, not that he’d acted like it.

Then Emily had called this afternoon and made him feel like even more of a schmuck. She’d read him the riot act for not showing up at dinner the night before, which told him more than he needed to know—that he’d disappointed Chloe. Because Emily never took him to task for not coming to dinner. But then, he always texted if he’d said he was coming and then wasn’t able to show up.

He parked just down from the pub, plucked up the bouquet, and climbed out of his SUV. On the way to the door, he thought about what he could say to make things up to her, but nothing sounded good enough. “Uh, sorry about Sunday, but I couldn’t help wigging out over my old house. I’ve decided I can’t bear for you to live there, by the way.”

He cringed because even though he knew he was being irrational, he couldn’t help it. He took a deep breath. He could do this.

Pushing open the door, he stepped into the warmth and bustle of the pub. The smell of fresh fries taunted his nose as he looked around for Chloe. He saw her approaching the bar from one of the tables in the back and met her there.

“Hi,” he said, tentatively.

“Hi,” she said, coming around to the side of the bar and eyeing the flowers.

He held them out to her. “These are for you. Because I’m a jerk. Or an ass. Or both.”

“You’re neither,” she said, surprising him. She accepted the flowers. “These are gorgeous.” She smelled one of the dark red roses. For florist flowers, they had at least a nominal scent, which Derek was grateful for.

“The pine smells really good,” he said, stupidly, “like your hair.” Really stupidly.

She arched a blond brow at him, then her mouth cracked into a small smile. “I forgive you. Thanks.”

It couldn’t be that easy. Still, he exhaled in relief. “Thank you . I’m sorry I didn’t come to dinner. That was a dick move.”

“Yes, it was, but I understand.” She peered at him over the flowers, looking hesitant. “I’m not sure what else to say. You left in such a hurry . . .”

The ball was totally in his court. “I know. It’s just . . . the house.”

She spoke slowly, as if she were choosing her words carefully. “Maybe I shouldn’t move into your house. I talked to Rob last night, and he has a small rental in Newberg that I can afford.”

He didn’t want her to live that far away. But the alternative . . . Sound, like rushing water, roared through his ears and the floor seemed to move beneath his feet. This was ridiculous. It was a house . Where he’d once lived a long time ago. Ten years had gone by since he’d lived there—longer than he’d even called it home. Wasn’t it time to let the past go? Rob and Emily would say so. Still, the thought of going there after steadfastly avoiding it for a decade, which was no easy feat in a town this size, filled him with anxiety.

But it was past time for him to get over it already. “Take it.” He said the words, but it sounded like they came from very far away. “I want you to,” he added, more to convince himself than her.

Her eyes widened briefly, then filled with concern. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, unsure he could get the word “yes” past his lips.

She looked uncertain, but lightly touched his hand. “If you say so.” She smiled reassuringly. “I’m going to put these in water and check on some tables. You’re not going to run off again, are you?”

He deserved that. “No.”

“Good.” She smiled before turning and going toward the back.

Derek practically sagged against the side of the bar. He leaned his elbow on the edge and slumped into a stool. His heart was beating fast, and a chill had stolen over the back of his neck. Maybe he needed to see Alex’s therapist to work through this.

“What’s with the flowers?” George’s question startled Derek.

He turned to look at the bartender, whose gaze was inquisitively frank behind his bifocals. “I messed up.”

George tsked as he shook his head. “Just flowers? Women are a little more complicated these days. I hope you’re taking her to dinner, or maybe you brought chocolate too.”

No, but he should’ve.

“What’d you do?” George asked, pulling a pint of Crossbow and handing it to Derek.

Derek took a drink of the wonderfully cold beer instead of answering.

“Eh, doesn’t matter.” George narrowed his eyes and leaned a bit over the bar. “Pull yourself together, boy. That girl’s the real deal. Don’t you dare break her heart.”

Derek set his beer down and squared himself toward George, interested in what the man had to say. “How can you tell she’s the ‘real deal’?”

“Well, I’ve been working with her, and from what I saw of you two on Saturday night—all cozy-like by the fireplace—I’m pretty sure you know her well enough.”

Derek felt heat rise up his neck. He couldn’t dispute George’s assessment. Furthermore, he and Chloe had both acknowledged that they felt something special. He couldn’t very well pretend she was just some girl.

“Don’t forget I’m a good judge of people,” George continued, straightening his glasses. “And she’s good people. Not like that girl you dated in college. What was her name, Shelby? Gold digger, that one was.”

Derek laughed. He’d dated Shelby his junior year and for a while even thought she might be The One. Until George had pointed out that she spent as much time as possible sucking up to the Archers. After that, Derek had kept an eye on her and when he’d found her hitting on Kyle, he’d broken up with her.

Recalling the relationship, he realized it paled considerably when compared with what he was feeling for Chloe. No other woman held a candle to her.

“Listen,” George said, lowering his voice, “don’t let this one get away. There’ve been a couple of nice girls the past few years—after that Shelby twit—and you’ve let them go. I don’t know what your problem is, but you’d better figure it out before this one decides she can’t wait for you too.”

Derek gripped his pint glass as another feeling of—what, panic?—washed over him. He forced himself to breathe. What was his problem? He’d never considered that he had some sort of fear of commitment or something. He was still young, he just figured he hadn’t found the right girl yet. But maybe now he had. And he was freaking out over a stupid house.

It wasn’t a big deal. He didn’t have to spend a bunch of time there. They’d hang out at his loft and at the Archers’. She liked it there.

Derek realized the bartender was staring at him, waiting for some response. “Thanks, George.” He lifted his glass and took another drink.

“Take a risk on this one. You won’t be sorry.” He stood back with a twinkle in his eye and went to serve a pair of young men who’d just taken stools at the bar.

After nursing his beer a few minutes, he caught sight of Chloe coming back toward the bar. She put an order in with George and then approached Derek. “Thanks again for the flowers.”

She was so pretty with her blond hair pulled back in that alluring ponytail when she was at work. It made her eyes stand out and he found he could just stare at her all night.

He slid off his stool and faced her. “Are you free for dinner Wednesday? I’d say tomorrow, but I have a work thing.” He flinched a little as he said that, aware that she could be comparing him to her ex.

“I’m working tomorrow night, anyway. But Wednesday I’m off at four.”

Happily, he’d started to finally relax. “Great. I’ll pick you up at six?”

“Perfect,” she said. “Sorry, gotta run.” She didn’t try to kiss him, but then she was working, duh.

“Have a good night.” He sat back down and finished his beer, stealing glances at her now and again as she worked. He threw some money on the bar for George and said good night.

As he walked out into the dark, he inhaled the unique scent that seemed to accompany the Christmas season. Pine and cold and . . . joy. Or at least the promise of it.

He still felt a little unsettled, but reasoned it was normal. He’d just decided to take a chance, to try to face something he’d long buried when he’d turned his back not only on the physical building—the house—where he’d grown up, but on his entire past.

Hopefully it wouldn’t backfire.