Arms Wide Open: a Novella by Juli Caldwell Page B

wants to use the shrubbery for a bench, so
we stand in the odd yellow glimmer of the porch light. I’m so full of things I
want to ask him, things I want to say, but that will take a lifetime, and I
haven’t earned it. Maybe he did walk away...but I’m the one who stayed away.
    “So Oliver and I were talking,” he
begins, and his voice sounds a little high-pitched and unnatural. His nervous
voice. I smile and fold my arms, tipping my head to listen. “We were wondering
if you wanted to get together sometime for a casual dinner, you know, old
friends just hanging out.”
    I offer an exaggerated nod. “Mm-hmm. You
forget just how well I know Oliver. If I agree, he plans to come down with a
mysterious case of food poisoning or leprosy that night and then experience a
miraculous recovery next day, right?”
    Grant’s eyes close. “Something like
that,” he admits with a half-smile.
    “You brought me my wallet. Your good
deed is done for the day,” I say. I want to step away, but something draws me
closer. “You’ve offered dinner with an old friend and I’d love to accept, but
if I say yes, I don’t want dinner with a friend.”
    “What are you saying?” He’s closer now,
too, and my face tilts up to search his even though it’s partially hidden in
shadow.
    “I can’t be friends with you, Grant.”
    He looks stunned and a little hurt.
“What do you—”
    Before I know what I’m doing, I move
closer still and search his eyes. I may not know much, but I know I can’t be
‘just friends’ with him, ever. I need to see if it’s still there, if he still
wants me. I run my fingers through his thick curls and pull his head toward
mine. My lips part and I feel the sweet warmth of his breath on my cheek before
our lips meet. His hands cradle my face and then slide down my back as he pulls
me closer. I taste the salt of his skin for a brief moment as I pull away, but
he won’t let me go. A light mist and gentle rain falls on us. It feels like
time stands still as our hearts beat together and our lips meet again, soft and
urgent, slow and deep, making promises we can’t wait to keep. Our lips tell
each other what we’re not quite ready to say again. Not yet.
    With a reluctant sigh, I pull away and
look down. He keeps his hand on the back of my head, and pulls me into a hug.
My head rests against his shoulder and he rubs my back slowly. “We can’t pick
up where we left off, Lauren.”
    “I don’t want to,” I answer as I wrap my
arms around his waist. “I want something different. We aren’t the same people
we were five years ago. And you deserve so much more than I ever offered
before.”
    “I wouldn’t be here if I thought that,”
he whispers in my ear, his lips brushing it gently, the smell of him washing
over me as I melt into him again. “You were always enough.”
    I don’t know if I’m ready to believe in
happily ever after yet, but I want to believe that we can be happy now. Maybe
together we can recover the tomorrow we thought we lost, because, finally, my
arms are wide open.