Bring Me Your Midnight(29)

“Thank you for coming out here,” I say to him.

“I’m glad to be here. Thank you for planning such a great day—it will be wonderful to see the island through your eyes.”

“I really love it here,” I say, falling in step beside him.

“Will it be difficult for you to leave?”

I pause and look at him. “Yes,” I answer honestly.

He nods. “Then we’ll have to create many reasons for you to visit.”

It’s a kind thing to say, thoughtful and sweet, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. And that’s when I realize my life with him might not be enough. It will be so many things: good, important, monumental, safe.

But it might not be enough. And I have to learn to be okay with that.

“What are you thinking about?” Landon asks me after I’ve been quiet for too long, looking out across the water instead of responding to his comment.

“Our life together.”

“What about it?”

“I was thinking that if I’m not going to have a lot of say in who I spend my life with, I’m glad I’m ending up with you.”

“And why is that?”

“Because we believe in the same things. We value family and duty and progress; many marriages have been built on far less.”

“That’s certainly true,” he agrees. “Do you think you ever would have chosen me on your own?”

The question catches me off guard, and I pause before answering. “I’ve always known I didn’t have a choice,” I say. “But maybe I would have.” I can see myself loving Landon one day. I can see that spark appearing. Maybe under different circumstances, I would have chosen him for myself. “What about you?” I ask.

“I’ve never given it much thought. But under any circumstance, I would choose to honor my family. And my family has chosen you.”

It isn’t romantic or transformative or even sweet, but it’s honest. And that’s the most we can offer each other right now.

We start walking again, and I point out parts of the island as we go. He’s interested, stopping to ask questions and get a better look at things. He cares. And it’s satisfying showing him around, showing him the place I love more than anywhere else in the world.

“Is that the only church on the island?” Landon asks, stopping in front of a small stone building with a steeple on top. Ivy crawls up the sides, the leaves turning red with the autumn chill.

“It is.”

“But how do you all fit inside?”

“We don’t,” I say simply. “Do you not think it a narrow view that meeting God in the confines of a room is more likely than under the cover of the trees or in the open air of the fields?”

Landon pauses, considering the church. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

He looks at the building for another moment before falling in step beside me. We turn onto Main Street, and I watch as the charm of it washes over him, brightening his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Landon, are you ready to experience the best cheese of your life?” I ask.

“That’s a lofty statement, Miss Fairchild.”

“I stand by it,” I say.

Landon tips his head to the side, considering me. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

The bell rings as we enter the Mouse Trap, and Mrs. Cotts runs out from the back to greet us. Her eyes widen and her smile spreads as she takes in the sight of the island’s highest daughter and the mainland’s most powerful son together.

Landon takes my hand, a confident smile settling on his face.

And so it begins.





thirteen





Once we’ve filled our picnic basket with meats, cheeses, bread, and rose water, we make our way to our last stop on Main Street: the perfumery. Wisteria hangs from the top of the stone storefront, filling the air with its sweet fragrance, and we walk inside to a group of mainlanders who look up as we enter.

Silence creeps through the store like fog through the trees.

I instinctively look down, but Landon keeps his head high. He turns to me and lowers his mouth to my ear. “Don’t let them off so easily. It’s rude to stare,” he whispers, so quietly only I can hear. “Let them know it.”

I look back up and make eye contact with each of the mainlanders, and each one looks away as if I’ve caught them stealing.

It feels good, letting them know I’ve noticed their scrutiny.

Finally, they begin chatting again, keeping their voices low as they walk out the store and leave us to ourselves.

“Scaring away our customers?” Dad asks with a wink when he walks out of the back room.

“Something like that,” I say.

“Well, I’ll leave you kids to it. I’ll be in the back if you need anything.” Dad gives me a soft smile before disappearing.

“So, this is your family’s shop,” Landon says as he looks around the room. It’s bright and airy, with wooden shelves the color of honey and white wallpaper walls printed with delicate ferns outlined in black. Dozens of plants sit on the shelves between rows of glass bottles, and a small chandelier with crystal lights in the shape of rosebuds hangs from the ceiling. Votive candles are nestled on the shelves, and small glass bottles filled with coffee beans sit beside them.