I gripped the straps of my backpack and twisted them. “Do you want to join us?”
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I thought you would be intruding.”
He half smiled. “Would your grandmother approve of my attending your super-secret club meeting?”
I stopped and picked up a stick off the edge of the trail. “Turn around and face me,” I said.
Lucas did as he was told.
“Now, get down on one knee.”
“What?”
“Do it.”
He did.
I laid the stick over one of his shoulders. “Lucas…what’s your middle name?”
He hesitated. “Mortimer.”
His answer stole the breath from my lungs. I cleared my throat and continued. “Lucas Mortimer Freeman, do you solemnly swear to keep the secret of the Matchmaker for all the days of your life until you die?”
He tried to hide a laugh. “I do.”
“And do you swear by the Matchmaker gods that you will reply to every letter that is given to you with honesty and hope?”
He didn’t laugh this time. “I do.”
I placed the stick on his other shoulder. “I now proclaim Lucas Mortimer Freeman an honorary Matchmaker Club member.” Then I handed him the stick, mocking a bow. “For you, sir.”
He stood up and gave a regal nod. “I will honor it for all the days of my life until I die.”
We stared longer than we should have, and I had the deepest urge to kiss him, right then and there. Heat flushed my cheeks. I turned away and headed back down the path, Lucas walking beside me.
We didn’t say anything more, and I was relieved by the silence.
* * *
Surprisingly, my grandmother wasn’t annoyed that I had made Lucas an honorary member without discussing it with the club first. In fact, she thought it was a great idea. Which worried me a bit, like she had somehow planned it herself.
We all sat around the dining room table, which was adorned with cheese, crackers, and wine. The letters sat in a tray painted with sunflowers and dragonflies, courtesy of my mother.
“As our newest member,” my grandmother said, gesturing to Lucas, “you will pick the first letter.”
He went to take one, but she held out her hand to stop him. She looked over at me. “Did you tell him the ritual?”
“No.”
“Well, then, you best tell him.”
I looked over at Lucas and his now sun-kissed olive skin. It suited him. “We pour the wine first, hold up our glasses for a toast, and say the following:Faith makes all things possible. Hope makes all things work. Love makes all things beautiful.”
My grandmother tilted her head at Lucas. “Would you like to pour the wine?”
He stood up. “I’d be honored.”
