The Luckiest by Wendy Owens

Author:Wendy Owens [Owens, Wendy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, loss, music, food, widow, chef, second chance, beginings
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

We’re only minutes away from the caravan when I ask him to pull over. I thought I could accept not knowing—waiting for Dean to tell me his mother’s story—but as we’ve sat in silence the entire trip back, the anticipation has been absolute torture.

He nods in response; if his silence lingers any longer, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to contain myself. Why won’t he say something? Anything. Dean pulls over into a parking lot of what looks to be a medical services building—a fitting choice considering I might cause him some bodily harm if he doesn’t start sharing with me soon.

He looks at me, a sadness in his eyes that makes me regret my frustration. “Too much baggage?” He’s nearly whispering.

“Weren’t you the one who told me no baggage means boring?” I remind him, turning toward him. “I just don’t want to have this conversation back at camp, in front of everyone.”

“What conversation is that?” He reaches out, running his fingertips across the skin on my arm.

I expel a hitched breath, a shiver running down my spine. “How about, ‘Hey sweetie, I forgot to mention—I have a mom, and she’s in prison…’?”

“Everyone has a mom.” Dean grins.

I pull away from him. I want him to know I don’t think now is a great time for him to show his keen sense of humor. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” He shrugs.

“This is serious.”

He huffs a heavy sigh, and I sense his sudden frustration. “Why does this have to be serious?”

I pause; I’m approaching this in the wrong way. “I don’t mean serious, I’m sorry. All I mean is, I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”

“So this is about my mom.”

I want to tell Dean never mind, that he doesn’t need to tell me anything, but I can’t. I’m starting to feel something for this man. I’m putting myself on the line, and I need to know him—know what has gone into making him the kind of person I’m falling in love with.

I take a deep breath, swallow, and try my best to be honest without upsetting him. “I have no idea how to approach something like this, so I’m just going to be honest. I’ve been happy these past few weeks. That’s not something I’ve been for a very long time.”

“So what does my mom have to do with us being happy?”

“It has to do with your past. You want to be there for me, let me do that for you.”

He shifts in his seat uncomfortably. I lean forward, clasping my hands around his forearm, pulling him toward me. “Don’t shut me out,” I plead.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I’m trying to do. I guess I’m just nervous. I’m torn, because I want to share this part of my life with you, but at the same time I don’t want you to see me differently,” he says.

I fall onto my knees in the empty space between the seats, and, lifting my hands to either side of his face, pulling his forehead to my lips, I kiss him.

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