Page 50 of Checking It Twice
“Well, you simply have to come out tonight,” Jessica continues, apparently immune to social cues. “The whole gang is meetingat Murphy’s around nine. Sarah’s in town, and Jake, and even Tommy made it back from Chicago. It’ll be just like old times!”
Mitch’s arm tightens around my waist. “We’ve got family tree decorating tonight, but—”
“Oh, come on! That’s family stuff. This is friend stuff. Completely different. Come out after.” She turns her megawatt smile on me. “Clare, you’d love Murphy’s. It’s this adorable little dive bar where we all used to hang out. Very authentic small-town experience.”
I can feel Mitch’s hesitation, the pull between obligation and genuine affection for old friends. And maybe something else—curiosity about how his high school crowd will react to me, to us, to whatever this thing between us is becoming.
“We’ll try to make it,” he says finally. “After we get the tree done.”
“Perfect! I’ll tell everyone to expect you.” Jessica bounces slightly on her toes, her barely contained energy suggesting she’s been mainlining holiday excitement. “And Clare, I cannot wait to hear all about how you tamed this one.”
She winks at Mitch, the gesture carrying the weight of shared history I’m not privy to, then disappears into the crowd with the same whirlwind energy she arrived with.
“Tamed?” I ask, raising an eyebrow as we continue down the street.
“Jess has always been... dramatic.” Mitch adjusts his grip on the packages, not quite meeting my eyes. “She was student body president. Organized everything. Still does, apparently.”
“And she’s single?”
The question slips out before I can stop it, loaded with more territorialism than I’m comfortable admitting to.
Mitch stops walking and turns to face me, something knowing and dangerous flickering in his gray eyes.
“Jealous, Clare Bear?”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Just gathering intelligence.”
“Mmm.” His mouth curves into that devastating half-smile that makes my pulse stutter. “For the record, Jess Morrison has been married to her high school sweetheart for three years. And even if she wasn’t...”
He steps closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes, close enough that I can see the flecks of blue in all that stormy gray.
“Even if she wasn’t?” I prompt.
“I’m exactly where I want to be.”
The words hang in the cold air between us, loaded with meaning we’re both too scared to unpack completely. But the way he looks at me—like he’s just found what he didn’t know he needed—lights something dangerous and hopeful low in my chest.
Chapter Twenty
Small Town Confessions
Mitchell
Mel’s Diner hasn’t changed since I was sixteen. The same red vinyl booths, the same black-and-white checkered floor, and the same smell of bacon grease and coffee that’s been brewing since before I was born. The waitress who seats us—Betty, according to her name tag—looks old enough to have served my dad when he was my age.
“Haven’t seen you in ages, Mitchell,” she says, sliding menus across our table. “Heard you were doing well for yourself down in Dallas.”
“Yes, ma’am. This is my girlfriend, Clare.”
The word slides out easier each time I use it, which should probably concern me more than it does.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty thing,” Betty says to Clare, with the maternal approval that comes standard in small-town diners. “Welcome to Maple Grove, honey. You picked a good one—this boy’s got manners.”
“He does,” Clare agrees, shooting me an amused look. “He actually spent the morning building me a fort out of towels because I had a migraine.”
“Smart man.” Betty nods approvingly at me. “My Harold does the same thing when I get my headaches. That’s how you know they’re worth keeping.”
“It was a tactical darkness solution,” I correct. “Completely different.”
