If It Makes You Happy(74)

I chuckle. “I like you too, Michelle.”

“But …”

“But we’re only friends,” I finish for her.

“Yeah. You’re my friend,” she confirms.

I can’t tell if I’m relieved or not. She’s thinking exactly what I was—because of course we’re on the same page—but I can’t help how my heart sinks at the reality of hearing it out loud.

I jump down, sitting next to her on the swinging bench, sending the whole thing creaking on its chains.

“We’re probably just”—she rolls her eyes with a smile—“super-horny divorcés, and I don’t want to ruin the good memories we’ve created so far with some fling.”

I chuckle. She’s not wrong. At least about the latter. And, sure, maybe a little of the former. I’d love to sink my hands into her hair and kiss her more. I’d love to dip my fingers beneath her skirt, too, but I also want to laugh with her.

The last thing I want is to lose her for the two months I have her. I have to forget the kiss if it means I get to keep her. And I need to keep her while I can.

“You’re right,” I say. “It was only a kiss anyway, huh?”

She reaches up to twist her earring. “Right.” Her face is crestfallen. “This whole thing is complicated.”

“Hey,” I say, reaching out to cup her face in my palms.

She freezes under my touch.

“I’m with you on this, okay?”

I’m surprised, warmed, when she tilts her head to the side, leaning a cheek into my hand.

“I like you, Cliff. Someone needs to tell you that.”

And that alone has me smiling. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I’ll tell you anytime you need.”

I manage a low chuckle. “I’ll hold you to that.”

She rolls her eyes. “You deserve to get back out there, you know,” she murmurs.

“So I hear.”

I swallow, stroking my thumb over her cheek, and kiss her forehead, closing my eyes. My heart pounds in my chest as I linger. Her breath tickles against my neck. Then I slowly pull away, catching her eyes with mine.

“Friends?” I ask.

I see her swallow. “Friends.”

A slight Halloween breeze blows past, sending a shiver down my spine. Because even though she’s here and we’re okay, I know a piece of my heart—the piece she captured so quickly—flitted away like a leaf on the wind.

“Well,” I say, breaking the silence, “that’s that, then.”

I place my palm on her knee and squeeze like I normally do to give her reassurance. But it feels different now. Inappropriate.

“I should get to bed,” she says, shifting on the bench. “It’s late.”

I nod and fake a yawn, but I know I’ll be up all night.

“Me too,” I agree.

“Thank you,” she says. “For a really fun night.”

Fun.

“I do what I can,” I tease.

She’s right; it was fun. That’s all.

Two lonely, divorced friends, having fun.





NOVEMBER 1997





CHAPTER 22





Michelle




Brittany doesn’t come over anymore. Days that were once filled with child laughter now only have the dull monotony of a humming television with daytime game shows.

Rocket lies by the back door, waiting for her, every day around three o’clock, as if the school bus will drop her off at any minute. I’ve told him a few times that it won’t, but I don’t think he hears me—or at least he pretends he doesn’t.

Breezy October weather has been replaced by a harsh November chill. The days are rainier, tearing the remaining leaves from the trees, sending them flying into sopping piles on the yard that squish under boots and are impossible to rake.

My job in Seattle has been reaching out to me less and less, and it’s making me anxious. I faxed some reports and ideas, but I haven’t heard anything back. I’m not desperate enough to call, so I dive into advertising for the inn instead. Something to distract my mind—to feel a sense of home again.

Every evening, I sip coffee with my sweater and blanket and paperwork. I watch Cliff pull in the driveway with Brittany, and every day, I wonder if she’ll run over, but the moment she sees Rocket lying next to me, leash tied to a porch spindle, she scrambles into their house.

Cliff comes over most nights once the girls are asleep, sighing into the swinging bench seat and taking my papers from me.

“You’re done for today,” he announces, and I let him.

“Any updates with Brittany?” I ask.

“Rocket is still enemy number one.”

I bend down to pet him. “Sorry, bud.”

Rocket ducks from my palm, walking the max length his leash allows, then plopping back down. He’s not happy with anyone.

Bird & Breakfast guests join us on the porch sometimes, and we regale them with every detail of the amazing Halloween that passed—everything except for the haunted maze, which we both now pretend never happened.

I’m happy we agreed to move on. My relationship with Cliff means more to me than anything else in Copper Run, which is a sentence I never thought would cross my mind weeks ago. I’ll miss him. I’ll miss the whole Burke family.