Great, my eyes are stinging again. “I loved that corsage.” I cringe inwardly at the wobble in my voice. “It really was perfect and it matched my dress exactly. My mom showed me how to dry it properly so I could keep it. I still have it in a shadow box in my room with some other keepsakes from high school.”

  With a mortifying little snivel that makes me want to hide behind the nearest decorative hay bale, I frantically dig in my purse once more for tissues. “Don’t look at me, my eyes are leaking again.”

  “And not looking at you will make it stop?”

  “No, but it’ll be a lot less embarrassing. I’m sure you’ll recall I’m not a pretty crier.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he says softly, but he averts his gaze anyway. I watch him as he checks out our surroundings, his eyes lingering on the café sign a few feet away. “How would you feel about getting a coffee? I could take the flowers to the car and give you a minute to deal with your leaky eyes in private.” He grins when I let out another watery laugh. “It’s nice out, so we could walk for a bit or find somewhere to sit.”

  “Don’t you have other stuff to do?” I ask. “Things that need to be taken care of while you’re home?”

  “Nothing that’s more important than spending time with you.” The way he says it leaves no doubt in my mind he means it. It also causes a small pang of longing in my heart. I wish I could always be one of Wesley’s top priorities, but I’ll take every second I can get with him while he’s home.

  I tell him I’ll order for us and meet him back here in a few minutes. I don’t even realize I’ve been watching him walk away until he turns a corner and disappears from sight. Giving myself a mental shake, I head into the café, breathing in the delicious scents of coffee, chocolate, cinnamon, and baked goods. I contemplate getting us something to eat to go with our drinks, but we probably don’t need anything after all the cake we ate at the bakery. By the time I make it back outside after waiting in line for several minutes, Wesley has already returned.

  “I smell pumpkin,” he says by way of greeting.

  I hold up both cups. “I took a chance and got pumpkin spice lattes. I can go back and get you a plain coffee if you prefer.”

  Wesley takes one of the cups from me and pops the lid, inhaling the scented steam. “Last year, this café I often go to in Ottawa got my order mixed up and gave me pumpkin spice instead of my usual latte. I decided to try it and I became an instant convert.”

  I tap my cup against his and then make a motion for us to start walking. “I swear for the months of September, October, and part of November, I have pumpkin spice running through my veins.”

  He chuckles. “Let me guess, for the rest of November and December, it’s hot chocolate? No, wait, peppermint hot chocolate.”

  I haven’t even taken a sip of my latte yet, and warmth spreads through me. “You know me so well, Wesley McGrath.” I bump his shoulder with mine. He nudges me back, his body remaining close as we meander down the street.

  After the third time our hands brush, Wesley wordlessly links his fingers through mine. We’ve held hands before—Wesley has always been openly affectionate, which was a blessing and a curse after I developed feelings for him—but it feels different now somehow. The warmth that spread through me a few minutes ago turns to heat that could melt me into a puddle right here on the sidewalk.

  We mosy on, neither of us saying anything. We’re approaching the convenience store and I’m about to ask Wesley if he remembers the summer we drank so many banana slushies the clerk told us we were going to turn yellow, when Bea comes zipping around the corner. She’s dressed in her diner uniform, checkered apron and all, and she comes to an abrupt halt when she sees us. The smile spreading across her face turns positively gleeful as her gaze falls to our joined hands.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” she says, shaking her head. “Horatio owes me ten bucks. I knew you two would get here eventually. ‘Really good friends’ my behind!” Before Wesley or I can utter a word, Bea swoops in and throws her arms around both of us in a brief, bone-crushing hug. She places noisy kisses on both of our cheeks, then backs up, shaking her head once more. “I gotta run, but you two better come into the diner soon and give me all the details.” She claps her hands and makes an excited squealing noise as she scurries away, disappearing as quickly as she appeared.

  My hand goes limp in Wesley’s. He gently eases his fingers from mine. I’m afraid to look at him for two reasons: my cheeks are on fire and, since Wesley knows me better than almost anyone, I’m certain he’ll see all my thoughts and feelings spelled out across my face.

  Just as the silence becomes almost unbearable, Wesley says, “Well. That was…I…”

  “Yeah. That about sums up my thoughts too.”

  Wesley makes a soft snorting sound that finally draws my gaze to his. He’s laughing quietly, shoulders shaking. When he lets out another little snort, my embarrassment eases, and I can’t help giggling along with him.

  He rests his hand on the small of my back and applies light pressure until I start walking again. “I never told you this because I didn’t want to make things weird between us, but when we were teens, Bea was always asking me when you and I were going to get together.”

  “You’re kidding!” My high-pitched tone makes Wesley laugh again. “What did you tell her?”

  “Same thing I told her the other night: that we were just really good friends.” His tone is casual. Almost too casual. He takes a sip of his drink before adding, “And I told her you didn’t see me that way.”

  “You didn’t see me that way either,” I say, instantly horrified by the defensiveness in my voice.

  Wesley slows his stride and angles his head to lock eyes with me. I wait for him to laugh it off or say of course he didn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. In fact, he just makes a non-committal sound and looks forward again.

  “Wesley James McGrath,” I say in my sternest voice.

  He gives an exaggerated wince. “Oof, you full-named me.”

  “Well, you can’t just say something like that and then suddenly drop it.”

  He smirks as he lifts his cup to his lips again. “I just did.”

  “Um, hi, have you met me? When have I ever let you drop a conversation without giving me all the details?” As the words come out, it hits me that I’ve done exactly that more than once since Wesley returned home, but there’s no turning back now.

  “Never,” he says. “You, Evelyn Simone Hathaway, have never let me get away with anything, ever.” He grips my arm and eases me to a stop.

  I cock one eyebrow, waiting.

  He sighs. “Okay. There may have been a point when I developed distinctly non-friendship type feelings for you as a teenager.”

  “No you didn’t.” Damn it, there’s that defensive tone again. Wesley’s lips twitch. “No, I would have known if you’d had feelings for me, Wesley. I remember when you had a crush on Priti Sharma and it was all over your face every time you talked about her or saw her.”

  “What can I say, I learned to school my face around you.” He scratches at his short sideburns and lowers his head, suddenly seeming to find his cardboard cup fascinating.

  “Okay, if it’s true, why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  With his head still bowed slightly, he lifts his eyes to meet mine. “Probably for the same reasons you never told me you had feelings for me.”

  My mouth works wordlessly before I manage to sputter, “I—how—? Ugh, it was Stella, wasn’t it? Remind me to strangle her when I get home.”

  Wesley laughs under his breath. “No strangling necessary; Stella never said anything. I didn’t even realize it myself until years later. I assumed there was no way you’d ever see me as anything other than a friend and maybe even a brother figure. But after I moved away and had some time and space from our relationship, I saw things more clearly, and it hit me that you might have felt the same way I did.”

  My initial reaction is to deny it, but what’s the point? I always wondered if he suspected. I was never great at hiding my emotions from him, after all. “Well,” I say, at a loss for words. Actually, that’s not true, there are too many words in my brain and I’m having difficulty sifting through them.

  “Yeah. And by the time it fully hit me, we were both so busy—you with your first year at Queen’s and me with school and working part-time. I thought I might try to tell you when I came home for Christmas that year, but you were already seeing that Pete guy, and I knew it wouldn’t be right to tell you.”

  I wish he had. I sort of fell into dating Pete because we had a bunch of the same classes and extracurriculars at Queen’s. I liked him, but I was missing Wesley something fierce, and that kept me from ever really opening up to Pete or letting him get close. Also, I think he got tired of hearing about Wesley. I didn’t mean to talk about him so much, but when you spend your entire life being close friends with someone, they tend to come up often in conversation.

  “Can we put a pin in this conversation for now?” Wesley asks. “It’s been so great to be with you again like old times, and I’ve loved seeing you laugh and smile today. I know we need to talk about this at some point, but…” He reaches up and uses the pad of his thumb to smooth the space between my eyebrows. “For now, I want to see you laugh and smile again instead of this frowny crease thing happening between your brows.”

  “Frowny crease thing,” I mutter, batting his hand away. “Fine, we can put a pin in it for now, but we’re talking about this before you go back to Ottawa. Promise me.”

  He holds up his hand and wiggles his pinky finger at me. “Promise.”

  After hooking my pinky through his, our hands drop to our sides. We start walking again and I attempt to send him telepathic messages to slip his hand into mine once more. He doesn’t. I peek at him from the corner of my eye to see he’s the one with a crease between his brows now. He seems lost in thought, and I’m unsure what to say to break the silence.

  He comes to an abrupt stop and turns to me. “Hey, do you want to go—” His words cut off as suddenly as they started when a chiming sound comes from inside his jacket. “My phone. I’d ignore it, but it might be your mom with another errand.” He grins at me as he locates his phone in an inner pocket and fishes it out. I wasn’t even aware I was leaning in until I see the name Ashleigh flash across the screen.

  I take a step back and avert my eyes quickly, although not fast enough to miss the way Wesley’s smile wavers. The sight of Ashleigh’s name on his phone has turned my stomach sour. Wesley still hasn’t mentioned a word about their break-up. Maybe Stella somehow got it wrong and they’re still together? Or Ashleigh is calling Wesley because she wants to get back together with him?

  Wes silences the phone and returns it to his pocket without a word. I glance at him in time to see his mouth open, but he doesn’t manage to say anything before the phone starts chiming again. With a sigh and an apologetic look in my direction, he pulls out the phone once more.

  “I can give you some privacy,” I tell him, moving another few steps away.

  “No, no it’s okay.” He hits the Ignore button and then swipes around and starts typing a message. “I’ll call her back when we’re finished.”

  “I think we are finished.” I wave my now-empty cup for emphasis and search our surroundings for a trash can. “We did everything on Mom’s list and have been sufficiently caffeinated.”

  Despite Wesley’s smile, I can’t help but think he looks as disappointed as I feel. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I should probably take you back to your mom’s. Or your place if you prefer.”

  “My car is at Hathaway Manor, so you can take me there. I’d like to thank my mom for this unexpected outing today anyway.”

  We’re quiet on the drive to my parents’ place. As Wesley pulls into the driveway and parks behind my car, he says, “Looks like rain.”

  I peer out the windshield, only now noticing the dark clouds forming in the sky. The wind has also picked up in the few minutes it took us to drive from downtown.

  Wesley hops out of the car and opens the back to collect my things. I’m still climbing out of the passenger seat when the front door opens and a man I don’t recognize comes out and strides purposefully in our direction.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Hathaway, we haven’t yet met.” With his formal manner, slim-fitting dark suit, and hint of a British accent, I half expect him to bow to me. “My name is Elliot, and I’m one of your mother’s assistants. Mrs. Hathaway asked me to collect the items you acquired today and put them in your car for you. She also asked me to issue an invitation to both you and Mr. McGrath to come in for cocktails and dinner.”

  Wesley approaches from the other side of the car, his arms laden with boxes. His gaze meets mine only briefly before flicking away; the way his eyes glitter with mirth tells me he’s afraid prolonged eye contact between us will set us both off laughing. He wouldn’t be wrong.

  “Would you mind telling Mrs. Hathaway I have a previous engagement and I send my regrets?” Wesley says, handing the boxes to Elliot.

  “Of course,” Elliot says. “Is this everything?”

  “There’s a bouquet of flowers in the back seat still, but I can grab it.”

  “Not necessary, I’ll look after it.” Elliot scurries toward my car and I fumble my keys from my purse to pop the trunk for him.

  Wesley leans in close, making my breath catch in surprise. “One of your mother’s assistants?” he says quietly, his voice conspiratorial. “Why does she need an assistant, let alone a team of them?”

  “She’s a very busy and important woman, Wesley,” I say earnestly. “A house like this doesn’t run itself, you know. Where would someone like Eleanor Hathaway be without a crew of minions to do her bidding?”

  “Of course, silly me. I bet a job like that pays well. If I ever need employment, I know where to come.”

  “You and me both.”

  His serious expression cracks, replaced by a grin that makes my knees wobble. “Well. You’d better get inside before it starts to rain.”

  “You’re just in a hurry to get out of here before Mom comes out and convinces you to stay for dinner,” I say, poking him in the chest.

  He catches my hand, looping his fingers around mine and holding on. “I promise I’d stay if I could. I just need to—”

  “Take care of some stuff,” I interrupt, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice. “Yeah, I get it. You are going to tell me what’s going on soon, right?”

  Wesley releases my fingers and shoves both his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “As soon as it’s all sorted. Promise.”

  “Okay. Well.” I take a step backward, wincing when an icy drop of rain hits me in the middle of the forehead. “I’ll see you at the party on Saturday?” He nods wordlessly and I nod in return. “Thanks for today, Wesley.”

  “It was my pleasure, Buttercup. These last few days have been great. It’s been way too long since we made new memories together.”

  I make a small noise in the back of my throat that I quickly cover with a cough. Why does he have to say stuff like that? It’s something any good friend might say to another, and yet my stupid, hopeful, traitorous heart practically leaps from my chest.

  Normally, I’d hug Wesley goodbye, but I’m not sure I could handle being in his arms right now. The next drop of rain that plops on my cheek is the perfect excuse to give him a quick wave and spin on my heel toward the house.

  “Hey, Evie?”

  I stop and turn around, pulling my jacket around me tighter and crossing my arms over my chest.

  Wesley stays where he is for a few seconds before closing the distance between us, standing close enough to touch. “This is…” He shakes his head, laughing softly as if to himself. “I found a shoebox of pictures in my old bedroom last night, and I came across one where I had the notorious mustache.”

  I snort out a laugh. “Please tell me that’s your birthday gift to me.”

  “No, I ripped it to shreds and threw the pieces in the fire.”

  I gasp, dropping my arms so I can shove his shoulder. “Wesley!”

  “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He catches my hand as I pull it back, gripping it lightly in his. “Seeing it evoked this flood of memories. I know I was the one who wanted to put a pin in our earlier conversation, but…do you want to know why I grew that horrendous mustache in high school?”

  A string of sarcastic responses spring to my lips, but Wesley’s tone has me swallowing every one of them. “Why?”

  “You were so infatuated with Westley from The Princess Bride, I thought maybe growing that silly little mustache would make you look at me that way too.”

  While I open and close my mouth like a fish out of water, Wesley leans in and kisses my cheek. “I’ll see you at the party, Buttercup,” he says in my ear. His warm breath on my skin makes me shiver. “Go inside before it really starts to rain.”

  My legs move of their own accord, taking a single step back. Before I can turn, Wesley catches my hand again. “Wait, one more thing.” He reaches into his jacket and struggles to pull something out of the inner pocket. It’s another CD jewel case, this one purple. He hesitates before handing it to me. “Don’t wait to read the insert this time, okay?” Without waiting for me to respond, he squeezes my hand and then jogs to his car.

  I blink, and I’m somehow inside my parents’ house. I don’t remember walking up the front path or opening the door. I look down to see I’ve already taken off my shoes, although I’m still wearing my jacket.

  I thought maybe growing that silly little mustache would make you look at me that way too.