across a wooden picnic table, which must give it dreadfully uncomfortable splinters in private squirrel places. Another grooms its tail maniacally between lifting tiny paws to its face and inhaling deeply of its own, apparently intoxicating, squirrel scent.
Their antics keep me entertained for nearly an hour, but as soon as the last of the twilight glow fades, the critters head to their nests for the night, and I’m left staring at my own reflection in the glass.
I look like hell.
My eyes are haunted, and my hair is a mess from the day spent out in the wind. I’m also still covered in trail dust and in dire need of a shower.
My room has a lovely shower, complete with tiny evergreen-scented soaps that leave a note of Christmas lingering in the air. I should shower, get in my pajamas, and zone out with some trashy reality television to keep my mind off my troubles.
Instead, I sit frozen at the desk, asking my reflection questions it can’t answer.
If this is the right call, why do I feel so awful?
Is there a chance I’ve made a horrible mistake?
Maybe I could have given up my homebody ways for a shot at something more with Zack. Maybe I could have found a way to fit into his world, to learn to love life on the road and exploring a new city every night. As long as I was with him, maybe we could have made it work.
Deep down, a quiet voice assures me you can’t change who you are, no matter how much you love someone, but another voice stubbornly insists that love can conquer any obstacle.
Love is powerful.
But so is fear.
Fear and love, love and fear… I’ve spent my whole life dancing with one or the other, pulled in opposite directions. I want to believe that love is all you need, but I know better. No matter how much I loved my mother, it was never enough. She needed a kind of love I couldn’t provide.
She needed to love herself, but she never learned how. From the outside looking in, it didn’t seem like she even tried. She was too busy running herself ragged, looking for love in a needle or a man or possessions we could never afford.
I made a promise a long time ago that I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I would honor my needs, nurture my spirit, and give myself all the love my mother hadn’t. I knew it was the only way to be the kind of person I wanted to be. You can’t pour from an empty cup, and you can’t make other people feel loved if you don’t love yourself.
All I’ve ever wanted is to have a happy home, a partner I adore, and ultimately, children who know they are treasured, wanted, and supported. But maybe I’ve become too rigid in my quest to make that dream come true. Maybe I need to be open to happily ever after arriving in different packaging than I expected.
I’m still deep in the question cave, breaking down every part of the equation but unable to figure out what to do with the pieces, when there’s a soft knock on the door.
Instantly, I know Jed sold me out and told Zack where to find me.
And I couldn’t be happier. Even an hour out of sync with him is too long.
Bolting from my chair, I cross the room and throw open the door, hurling myself into his arms. He catches me with a grunt, squeezing me tight. “I’m sorry,” I murmur into his neck, burrowing my face closer to his skin. “I shouldn’t have left. I’m just so confused.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he says, hugging me hard enough to lift me off my feet. “It’s okay.”
I swallow, clinging to him as he steps through the door and closes it behind us. “But it’s not,” I say to his neck again because his neck is so much easier than his see-through-me gaze. “I’m so scared.”
“What are you scared of, baby?” he asks, the affection in his tone making the back of my eyes sting.
“That I’ll ruin everything for you. Or for me. That there’s no way forward without someone letting go of a dream.”
“I have lots of dreams. Some more important than others.” He sets me on my feet and pulls back, cupping my face in his hands. “And the dream of you and me…” When his tongue slips out across his lips, I want to kiss him, but I need to hear what