everyone knowing.”
“No, you cannot.” Keaton takes a sip of coffee. “So, a yoga studio? That’s what you’re going to turn it into, right?”
“Yes.” I don’t feel like being here.
Talking to him is painful, doesn’t he know that? Well … maybe he doesn’t. I never told him how I felt. He ended it before I could.
But as much as I want to be angry with him, I can’t. As much as I want to accuse him of ruining things between us, yell at him and demand to know why he sought me out … I won’t. I know why he ended things. Keaton Nash is the most responsible man I know. He has so much on his plate that he can’t make room for a woman who is so indecisive about her feelings and her future.
Keaton turns so that he’s standing in front of me, not next to me like before, and I’m forced to look at him. His facial hair is scruffier than usual, and although he’s as gorgeous as ever, his eyes hold exhaustion. I’d heard through that ever-present town grapevine that the Nash family had taken Fletcher to rehab, and I know how hard this must be for Keaton. He’ll look at it as his own personal failure.
“You’re going to do so great. I’m really proud of you, Presley. You’re following your dreams, and that is amazing.”
Keaton looks like he wants to say something more, and his hand raises as if he’s about to run it through my hair. Just like he did every morning we were together. As if his fingers connecting with my locks was just as soothing for him as it was for me.
I’m waiting with bated breath, because I can feel the hope sparking between us. It’s building in the air, and I want so badly to reach out and grab it, spin it into something that’s tangible and real that I can give to both of us.
“I only ever started on this journey because of you. You made me believe in myself,” I whisper, my eyes searching his.
Tell him you love him.
It’s on the tip of my tongue, but Keaton cuts me off.
“You had it in you all along. I just reminded you of what you could be. Good luck, Presley. You’re going to be incredible.”
And then he turns on his heel and slowly walks off, shaking his head.
I’m left standing in front of my future studio, wondering what the hell just happened?
38
Keaton
And, nerdy, fumbling Keaton Nash was back.
Remember him? The guy who couldn’t get Presley McDaniel to agree to a date until the third time he asked. And even then, she rejected me at the end of it.
I thought I’d been charming, if not a little nervous, in those early encounters. And then I’d won her heart, so, of course, she knew me. Knew how I operated.
But apparently, I’d forgotten all of my slick moves in the three weeks we’d been broken up. I’d forgotten that I had enough game to win her over the first time around. That’s why I’d completely crashed and burned, and chickened out, in front of her future yoga studio a couple of days ago.
It took a pep talk in my bathroom mirror before I was able to walk down to the Pumpkin Festival around six p.m. Thank God, Mom didn’t wrangle us into a booth for this carnival. Even though caramel corn would be a lot easier to make in the fifty-five-degree weather tonight, rather than the almost ninety in the summer that threatened to sweat our balls off.
But I had the night off, and I knew a certain gorgeous redhead didn’t, which worked to my advantage. Through the trusty Fawn Hill gossip line, I’d learned that Presley would be helping Lily at the library’s used book stand tonight at the festival. Since I could pin down her whereabouts, and had finally gotten up the balls to tell her how foolish I was for letting her go, I was going with plan B.
Or Forrest’s plan, as he was bragging about it earlier.
The grand gesture.
I head straight for the library tent, which is always in the same place in the lineup of businesses advertising in Bloomsbury Park at this festival. The air smells like cinnamon and apples, and the colors of fall are draped over every possible surface.
Lily spots me first, smiling as I approach. “Are you here to buy or sell?”
I look past her, waiting for Presley to turn around and see me. Her long scarlet