Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

River

I TAKE HIM TO the hammock, the place where this almost blew up in my face. Things could not be more different this time around. We don’t sit. Instead, after I climb into the hammock, I encourage Clark to follow me, lying on my back so he has to lie atop me. I don’t push, allowing him to make the choice to drape himself on my chest, an arm around me and a leg thrown across my thighs. The hammock shifts, the fabric giving under our weight to force us even closer together, but Clark doesn’t react except to nestle in against me.

I wrap an arm around his back and simply breathe for a while, watching the spiral of leaves above me. Sunlight breaks through in canopy, showering down on us like rain. A breeze ruffles the trees, bringing us the sounds of laughter and chatter back at the lake, as well as the scent of all the fresh, green, growing things around us.

It might be the most perfect afternoon of my life. After a bit, Clark’s breathing deepens alongside mine. We inhale together, and on the exhale, it’s like we’re sharing the same dream, one of peace and security and an endless afternoon spent just like this.

Eventually, he pushes himself up. I let him go, but not without a stab of doubt straight to the heart.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

“No,” he says, and he’s smiling in a way that calms the initial burst of fear that fluttered through my chest. “I just remembered that there’s more strawberries.”

He clambers out of the hammock. It’s an awkward operation, our weight making the whole thing swing by the time he reaches the ground. He returns only a moment later with a package of chocolate strawberries and lies back down with me. When he takes one from the bag, he only enjoys a small bite before offering me the rest. I open my mouth and let him feed me the treat, both of us laughing as I nearly miss the strawberry on my first attempt.

He tries to give me another one, but I turn it back around on him and feed it to him instead. We toss the stems to the ground where they’ll decay or get picked up by some tiny critter living in the forest.

“Thank you,” I say. “Again. Not just for the strawberries. For all of this.”

Clark shakes his head against me. “I don’t deserve your thanks.”

“You do, and if this is going to continue, you have to start accepting that.”

He pushes himself up, propping his arms on my chest to look down at me. “Is it? Is it going to continue?”

“Don’t you think that depends more on you than me?”

He flinches, and I regret phrasing things that way. There’s no taking it back now, though, so I wait while the memories of our strange time together play out across his face. All the doubt, all the second guessing, all the hesitance — it flickers through his eyes like a movie running somewhere in those dark depths.

“I guess it used to,” he says eventually, “but I’m the one who set all this up and got you to come out here, so I think my answer is pretty clear, isn’t it?”

I stroke his cheek. “Didn’t I already tell you? It’s never too late to fall in love. I’ve known what I wanted since the day I met you. You don’t need to keep offering me exit ramps. I’m not going to take them.”

I know what he’s doing. I know he keeps giving me these options to assuage his own guilt about how this went. He thinks eventually I’ll give up the ruse and accept his offer to escape, but he’s wrong. I’m not going anywhere, not for as long as he’ll have me.

“How many times do I need to convince you that I want you?” I say.

“I don’t know.”

His voice is quiet, but I can’t help it. I laugh. Surprise loosens the tension in his features.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to reassure you every single day from here on out that I’m not going anywhere,” I say. “I hope you’re prepared. You’re going to have to deal with this for a long, long time.”

A smile tugs at the side of his mouth. He settles back down on my chest before I get a chance to appreciate it.

“I guess I can live with that,” he mumbles.

We feed each other a few more strawberries, but we’re not all that interested in the fruit itself. The sun is warm, the breeze gentle, the shade of the tree a cool blanket to take the edge off the heat, and I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere but right here with him.

Eventually, however, Cameron pokes his head into the clearing.

“I guess it went well,” he says when he sees how we’re sprawled atop each other in the hammock.

He straightens, stepping into the clearing, and waves for Julian to follow him.

“Oh thank God,” Julian says. “They were taking so long I was afraid they were either fighting or fucking.”

Cameron slaps his arm. “Don’t be an idiot. They’re not going to fuck in a hammock.”

“They could.”

“How is that even possible?”

“You wanna find out? I think I have a hammock at h—”

Cameron slaps Julian’s arm harder this time, hard enough that Julian puts up his hands in defeat.

“Anyway,” Cameron says, “we were just checking that you guys were good. The others were asking.”

“We’re great,” I say. “Is everyone heading out?”

“Yeah, we’ve been here a while.”

I look up at the canopy of leaves, but the scant light that breaks through doesn’t tell me much. Six hours could have passed, or six minutes.

“Maybe we should pack up too,” Clark says.

I miss his warmth and weight the moment he climbs out of the hammock, but I force myself to follow him. We clean up the picnic stuff and take down the hammock. I carry the basket while Clark packs the rest of the stuff away in a backpack. Then we follow Cameron and Julian to the lake.

“Well?” Henry says the moment we appear.

I’ve never seen him look so anxious and hurry to reassure him. “Everything’s good.”

“Oh thank goodness.”

Henry launches himself at me. With the picnic basket in one hand, he almost manages to knock me over as he hugs me. Clark places a hand on my back to steady me.

“Oh my gosh,” Henry says when he pulls away. “Does this mean the café family is complete?”

Everyone falls silent, eyes darting around. Henry’s fiancé Alex waits a couple steps behind him. Sebastian and Luke stand to the side. Cameron and Julian were the ones to fetch us in the first place. And, of course, I have Clark beside me, his hand still on my back even though I’m plenty steady now.

I beam. “Yeah, I guess we are. Look at that.”

Henry’s smile could outshine the sun itself. Everyone gathers up whatever they brought with them to the lake, and we head back toward the parking lot in a long, snaking line, one after the other on the narrow path through the forest. I long to reach back and grab Clark’s hand as we walk, but I know there’ll be plenty of time for that in the future. Already, I’m thinking of all the places I could take him, all the hikes I want him to experience, all the views I want to show him. Not just here in Tripp Lake, either. I want to take him out of this town, out of the state, out of the country. He’s spent far too much time holed up in a cubicle when there’s a whole big, wide, beautiful world to see.

I’m buzzing with excitement by the time we reach the parking lot, but I try to contain myself as everyone gathers to say goodbye.

“Thank you,” I say. “Really. All of you. You didn’t have to do this.”

Sebastian smiles at me. “When we heard what Clark had asked Cameron, we all volunteered. No one had to ask. We just want you to be happy, River, and he clearly makes you happy.”

I glance at Clark, who stands shifting from foot to foot at my side, clearly awkward under this much scrutiny and attention.

“He does,” I say.

Cameron pats me on the shoulder. “I’m sure your aura is glowing right now … or something like that. You know what I mean.”

I chuckle. He always resisted when I tried to describe his aura. It’s been brighter ever since he got together with Julian, and I’m sure my own is a match in this moment.

“I understand,” I say.

We part with hugs and promises to do another group hike, though I doubt we’ll get to it any time soon. Alex and Henry need to prepare for their wedding, after all, and we’re all attending. I thought I’d be going alone, the one single person among the cat café staff, but now I won’t have to, and that fills me with more happiness than I anticipated. It’s not like I’m not used to going to things by myself. No one would treat me differently for it. Yet the thought of attending with Clark — as my date — sends a surge of happiness through my chest.

I turn to him. We stand beside his car. I drove as well, which means we need to part at least temporarily, but the question of what happens next hangs unspoken between us. With all this joy swirling through my body, I’m not ready to head home alone, but I don’t know if this has been more than enough for him already, so I try to temper my expectations before I speak.

“Can I come over?” Clark says before I utter a word.

I can’t contain a smile. “I was about to ask if you wanted to. Are you sure? I know this day was probably a lot.”

“I’m sure,” Clark says. “I… Well, I figured if things went well … that might happen.”

I blink. He thought about it. He thought about … following me to my place. He thought about us leaving this park together. I try not to jump to conclusions, but it’s hard when the implications heat the air between us. Clark doesn’t say anything accidentally. He’s the sort to meticulously plan for every eventuality. So if he’s the one proposing we go back to my place, that must mean he had something in mind this entire time.

“I’d love if you came back with me,” I say. “That would be really great, but it’s up to you. I’ve already had an amazing day.”

“River,” he says sternly, “I’m telling you I want to come back to your place. I’m telling you I’ve been thinking about it … kind of a lot.”

Heat wells in my chest. “Okay. I mean, yeah. Yes. That sounds amazing. You remember the address?”

He nods.

“I guess I’ll meet you there,” I say.

He nods again, like a soldier accepting a dangerous mission, then we head to our separate cars. My heart batters at my chest the whole way home. I beat Clark there by a few minutes and rush inside to clean up whatever I can reach. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again, let alone like this. I’m sure my apartment isn’t up to his high standards, but then again, none of that stuff feels like it matters anymore. All that matters is that he’s coming here, he wants to come here, and however this night goes, it isn’t an accident or a mistake. It isn’t temporary.

This night is ours to own.