Cecily wished she hadn’t answered. It would only have delayed the inevitable, but at least the night wouldn’t have been ruined. She hadn’t been able to lie when she’d come back to the table—wouldn’t have insulted Reed by trying. And it was obvious from the look on his face that he already knew. So they both suffered through the rest of what became the world’s most awkward dinner, with everybody looking worried and biting back whatever opinions they had on the subject.
As they drove back toward town, Reed took her hand without a word.
He made her want to be reckless. To just rush in, without thought to consequences or cost. And, to a point, for the last couple of weeks, she had rushed in, ignoring the countdown in the back of her brain, because while she was with him, it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. She looked at him and saw the possibility of what Norah had with Cam, and she wanted that. She’d be insane not to want it. But a part of her kept hesitating. She didn’t trust her judgment well enough to know if she was projecting, or if what was between them was really real. So she’d held a piece of herself back, and now the final countdown had begun and circumstances would force a decision, one way or the other. After everything she’d worked for, how could she make that call, how could she know for sure that reckless plunge would be worth it, based on a matter of mere weeks?
And yet…he saw her. Not the money. Not the pedigree. Not the act. Her. She’d misjudged him so badly. How could she sit beside this amazing, astute man, and not feel physically ill at being poised to walk away?
“I hate this,” she burst out.
“I know.”
“You’re not going to try to talk me out of it?”
Reed glanced at her. “You know I want you to stay. My trying to guilt you into it would make me a selfish bastard and wouldn’t be a good foundation for any future relationship. Besides, you feel bad enough already.”
That was true enough. But it wouldn’t have stopped a lot of men.
“So no, no guilt trip. I’ve got something else in mind.”
“You do?” Her heart gave a hopeful leap. As he bypassed the turn for her street, she sat up a little straighter. “Where are we going?”
“Downtown. I thought we’d take a little walk. I think better when I’m moving.”
He parked at the far end of the green. Cecily slid out of his SUV and hunched into her coat at a sudden gust of wind, thinking that a single summer below the Mason-Dixon line had made her soft if she felt a chill in the low fifties. But, as the breeze ruffled her hair, she felt the first bite of true autumn on the air. Reed circled around and tucked her arm through his.
“Did you know Norah nearly walked away from Cam?”
Surprise had her step faltering. “What? Why?”
“Because she thought picking him would mean giving up her career. She is, as you well know, incredibly driven—you’re a lot alike in that respect. Cam’s more like me. Very rooted to life here. She couldn’t see how they could make it work and, frankly, neither could we.”
“We?” she asked.
“You’ve met my family. We were all up in the middle of that.”
She had no trouble whatsoever imagining it.
“I’m ashamed to say we didn’t exactly react positively when we found out the two of them were involved. Not because we didn’t love Norah—because we always have—but just because we worried it wouldn’t work, and we didn’t want to see either of them hurt. Which she absolutely knew. She gave a speech.”
Cecily laughed. “Of course she did.”
“It helped. We could see how much she cared for him. And we could also see how it was absolutely tearing her up, feeling like she had to choose.” He pulled her to a stop beside the fountain at the heart of town, taking both her hands in his. “You’ve got that same look.”
“I don’t have as many years of career invested as she did when Helios fired her, but yeah, I absolutely feel that. I’ve worked really hard to do what I’ve done, trying to live up to my family’s expectations and the burden of the family legacy. I don’t want to throw that away.” She squeezed his hands. “But I don’t want to throw this away either.”
“Do you think staying would be throwing it all away because you can’t see yourself living a small-town life long-term or because you don’t see how what you do is applicable here?” She opened her mouth to speak but he continued. “And I don’t ask that because I think you think less of small-town living. I know you don’t.”
She answered without hesitation. “If there was a job—a real job, with real potential and opportunities here—we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Some of the tension left him, and Cecily realized how rigidly controlled he’d been since dinner.
“Okay then.” He dug in his pocket and placed a quarter in her palm. “Make your wish.”
The metal was still warm from his body heat. Cecily looked at it, then back up at him. “Seriously?”
“You can’t live in a place like Wishful and not believe in the lore.”
When Norah had told her that the fountain was fed by nearby Hope Springs and had been granting wishes in one form or another since it was built just after the Civil War, Cecily had assumed it was just an adorable marketing spin on the town’s quirky name. But she’d learned that the locals, at least, believed. Did she?