"Chopping wood?" He asked, as though the question was incredulous.
"Don't look at me like that," I went inside first, leading him. "Anyone would have thought you to be a city boy."
"You were gone then, but my father sent me to a wilderness retreat during my gap year because he thought I was getting too soft."
"Oh, Carey."
"It wasn't as terrible as everyone thinks it was. I learned a few life skills there. One of them was chopping wood. Mostly because one counsellor liked to use it as punishment and I would get into trouble a lot."
"That sounds awful."
"You know what pulled me through during that time?" He threw the wood he had on top of the fireside pile and I did the same. "You," he finished. "They didn't allow us to have phones, so I had this one picture of us. That day we went on an ice cream date."
"Liar." First off, there was no way he carried a picture of me to some retreat back then and second, he was calling our stranded at the roadside thing a date? And third, he remembered?
He went to the bedroom, came back with a wallet in his hand and took out a photo. It was worn where it was folded, but it wasclear enough. Carey and I were sitting in the diner and he was posing while I was eating my ice cream, oblivious of the camera. It was a good picture of me; I have to admit. "You took this?"
He nodded. "And carried it with me, my entire life, basically."
I didn't want to think too much about the implications of that. All this time I was convinced I was the one pining for someone who didn't love me. But what if…Is this what his father saw? Nolan Sr must have recognized that his son felt something for me and that's why he knew I would be the perfect candidate to be Carey's wife. In a twisted way, he was thinking of his son.
I handed Carey the picture, and he folded it once more and put it back in his wallet. We went back to finishing collecting wood as though nothing had happened. The picture was on my mind the entire time.
Day turned to night, and I was still thinking about it. After we were done eating dinner, Carey moved us to the fireplace. He had lit it hours before and now it was burning warm embers. Perfect for marshmallows, I thought. And like he read my mind, he went to the kitchen and came back with a packet and some sticks. I grabbed a blanket from the bedroom, spread it close to the fireplace. He gave me a stick as he came to sit down beside me with the packet of candy between us.
As I watched the wood burn a glowing orange and red, the picture popped up in my mind again."Why didn't you ask me out? Back then?"
His gaze was on his marshmallow, which he was roasting to perfection. "I was shy? I didn't think I had a chance. I thought you were better than me. Take a pick."
"Better than you? I was the chauffeur's daughter! My mother and I worked part time as maids at your house."
"My teenage brain didn't see your status, trust me. I wanted to be with you more than anything, but I was afraid you'd laugh in my face if I asked you out."
His revelation was stunning, but it felt true. He didn't look like he was trying to manipulate me. "I would have said yes.TheCarey Hawthorne asking me out? I would have been over the moon."
Carey shook his head. "We wasted so much time apart when we could have been together a long time ago."
"I guess we have to thank your father for being a matchmaker who takes things in his hands."
Carey stared at me, then he crawled over to come, sat behind me and drew me into his arms, so I was sitting between his legs with my back against his chest. "I've been wanting to do this all night. Might as well just do it, right?"
I leaned back into his chest, enveloping myself in his scent. His hard chest was the softest pillow in the world. It felt right. Everything about this felt right. I ate my slightly charred marshmallow and let Carey replace it with a fresh one on my stick.
"Yours are coming out perfectly," I said, almost whining."You can have them." He circled his close to my mouth, but I shook my head. I was enjoying my burnt marshmallows.
"You seem to like outdoorsy stuff," I said after a long period of silence.
I felt him nod.
"Did you want to run?" Once the question was out there, it was tough to put it back. "I know it was your father's dream…"
"I used to think so. My father had a knack for making you feel like his dreams are your dreams. He wanted me to become a lawyer, so I became a lawyer. He wanted me to run for office, so I prepared myself for a path to run for office. But if I am to be honest with myself… kissing babies sucks."
I laughed, and he chuckled along with me. "So you didn't want to be a lawyer?"
"That l like. I like getting into the minutia of law and I love as corny as that sounds; arguing in court. Preparing a case. Making my case and winning the case."
"At least there's something both you and your father agreed on."
