Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sean
As Denver stood to speak, my own knees trembled and my belly wobbled. I’d had bystander nerves before at Declan’s races or Bridget’s school events, but this was different in that my future—our future—seemed to hang in the balance, and all I could do was watch.
“I don’t belong here,” Denver mumbled, then cleared his throat. “Let me try again. I don’t belong in Mount Hope. I’m not a lifer like many of you. But I’ve worked in a lot of places over the years. Honey’s is special.”
All around the room, people nodded. And I agreed, but I also thought Denver was the special one. After all, he was why I’d kept coming back.
“I see it every shift. And it’s not only that the diner is open late. It’s where folks come after a rough night or a good one. We’re there for our regulars, and they’re here for us.” He gestured around the room, a ruddy cast coming over his skin. He was embarrassed by the support, undoubtedly thought it was all my doing, but the truth was it was him. Sure, people liked their hotcakes and omelets late at night, but they also liked the good people working at Honey’s, like Tammy and Denver.
“I know our offer isn’t what you could get from selling the land. But this place means something to a lot of folks. Me too.” His voice dipped, a subtle waver most would miss, but I knew Denver, knew what it cost him to admit to an attachment to anything. And if Honey’s meant something to him, perhaps there was hope for us as a couple. Maybe I could mean something too. My stomach twisted, nerves and want and need all mixed up. Denver looked so good in his suit and tamed hair. He glanced down at me like he was looking for something. I nodded at him as he continued, trying to send reassurance. I wished I could promise him it would all work out, that his efforts would pay off. But the faces of the Honey family at the front of the room were hard to read, even in light of Denver’s heartfelt speech that had much of the room murmuring in agreement as he laid out more of his and Tammy’s plans and the specifics of their offer.
“It would be an honor to carry the Honey’s tradition forward, to keep giving people a place to belong. Thank you.” As he finished, Denver nodded at each of the Honey heirs, then sat back down.
“Wow.” I clapped him on the shoulder, not caring where we were or who could see. “That was amazing.”
“Thanks.” Denver shifted in his chair, lips pale, skin chalky. I didn’t need my training to know he was having a post-stress reaction, not unlike after a race or accident.
While Tammy said her piece next, I quickly fetched Denver some water from the pitcher at the back of the room and pressed a cup into his hand.
“Thanks,” he said as Tammy finished. The audience applauded, and several people swiped at their eyes. She and Denver had made a great case for keeping the business going.
“Now we’re going to vote.” The older woman who’d done much of the talking for the family shooed everyone else from the room so the Honey family could deliberate in private. Denver, Tammy, and I made our way into the hallway with the rest of the crowd.
Tammy excused herself to the restroom while several of the town leaders, such as the mayor and my dad, took the opportunity to head back to work. My dad saluted me from across the crowded space, mouthing, “See you Sunday.”
Oh yeah. Sunday. I still had to ask Denver about dinner with my folks. Just the little matter of convincing him we had a future first. That he was here and fighting for Honey’s was a good start, but I wanted him to fight for us as well.
Too much adrenaline zoomed through my veins to even think about sitting.
“You want coffee? A cookie?” I motioned at the table that had been hastily set up in the hallway with some store-bought cookies and a coffee station. “I’m gonna get you a cookie.”
“Think you’re more nervous than me.” Denver managed a tight smile as I brought back a chocolate chip cookie for him.
“Obviously.” I tried for a joke, but my voice came out too strained.
“Hey.” Denver grabbed my upper arm, steering me into a doorway that afforded us a small amount of privacy. “Look at me.” He moved his hand from my bicep to thread his fingers with mine. “No matter what the vote is, I’ve decided. I’m staying.”
“You are?” My relief was so profound that I had to press my back against the nearby door.
“I found a place to belong, and it’s not only at Honey’s. It’s with you.” His voice was soft, more uncertain than I’d heard it, almost as if he expected me to disagree.