Bon Bons to Yoga Pants

Chapter 52-It's Beautiful

Mingling took on a whole new meaning when applied to a crowd the size that Kenzie and her fiancé drew in.

Although I had to entertain family, small talk, wave, laugh, joke, and reminisce, I kept an eye on Bradley. He sat at a circular table in the back, a glass of ice water and my book in front of him. From the moment he sat down, he hadn't taken his eyes away. I watched carefully in between swapping memories and thanking people for their support, silently wishing I could sneak away and apply a suction cup to Bradley's brain. I wanted to funnel all his thoughts so I knew exactly what he was thinking of me.

Was I good enough? Would he bail out now that he knew the truth about my love affair with food and all my many imperfections? An hour and a half into the reception, I looked up to check on him and saw nothing but an empty table. My gut clenched.

What if he left?

I peeled myself away from old Uncle Bart with a smile and a promise to pull his finger later. The venue opened up onto an extensive set of gardens in the backyard, complete with a canopy of twinkle lights and green hedges interspersed with naked-angel fountains. A cool rush of air greeted me. The sky still remained overcast, though it hadn't rained again. I ventured forward down a stone path to the right to find a familiar set of broad shoulders staring at a mossy pond. Honeysuckle cloaked a trellis off to the side, and the tinkle of a fountain rang through the still air.

"Bradley?"

He looked up and smiled, hands tucked into his pants pocket. "Hey, girl."

"Is everything all right?" My shoes clacked as I walked, a strange background noise to the Sinatra music floating from the reception. The distant sound of glasses clinking and people murmuring in conversation filled the rest of the space. Despite the obvious presence of others inside, the ambiance made me feel oddly alone with him.

"Yeah, of course. I was just . . . thinking."

My breathing sped up of its own volition. I forced myself to calm down. "Is this where I offer a penny for your thoughts?"

He chuckled. "Nah. You can have my thoughts for free." He motioned to a rock nearby where my book sat. Over half the pages were folded back. "I was just thinking about your story."

I swallowed. "And?"

"I have two trains of thought so far. Want to hear them both?"

Do I? I wanted to ask back. "Of course."

His eyes narrowed on something in the distance. "I'm amazed that you don't see what I see. It's baffling that the confident, beautiful girl I've met, that I've always been a little intimidated by, doesn't realize how . . . I don't know . . . strong you are."

My mouth dropped open. "You've been intimidated by me?"

"Uh . . . yeah. Big time. By the way, I'm also obsessed with Arby's roast beef and curly fries, so I'm thinking that's where we need to go tonight." He gazed around. "Probably soon. The monster in my belly needs to be fed."

I smiled, startled to feel tears in my eyes. With concerted effort I blinked them away and forced an even tone. "And what's your second train of thought?"

"That you and I aren't so different. I'm more like you than you think. You've obviously had me on some sort pedestal that I don't deserve, which is frightening in itself." He cracked a smile, though I saw a hint of uncertainty behind it. "I'm not sure I'll be able to live up to your opinion of me, you know."

"I think you already have," I whispered.

"I think it's time for a dance." He held out a hand and I slipped mine inside his. His palm felt warm and smooth, sending bolts of heat through my arm. "But, in the interest of full disclosure, I'm a horrible dancer. So I need you to tell me where to put my hands. Then we'll shuffle around like it's high school and try to win the-most-awkward-couple-award."