“Cake? Oh, I don’t think I have enough room. But it is dessert…” She flexed her arm. “I’m up to the challenge.”
He laughed. “A little sugar makes everything better. Afterward, we can get a little exercise while we let the food digest and then go to work.”
Kate arched a brow. “Please tell me you aren’t thinking of making me scale a mountain tonight.”
“Well, maybe not tonight. But in the daylight, it’s a great way to get the endorphins flowing, which should help creativity and all that.” He gave her a grin, but she let out a groan. “Still not much of an outdoors girl?”
“Let’s just say every time I’m outdoors, a disaster happens. Maybe because it rains here all the time and I never seem to remember my raincoat, but still…no I’m not much for the outdoors.”
Their two different lifestyles had been a large part of what had broken them up, because it had created a chasm that had only widened the more time they’d spent together—and apart. Trent couldn’t imagine a life spent indoors, and Kate didn’t want one spent outdoors. Now, ironically, Trent was behind a desk far more often than away from it. “There’s a beautiful world out there, Kate, if you explore it.”
She picked at her last bite of chicken. “Maybe. I’m pretty happy in my little apartment with Charlie.”
Trent’s attention perked at the name. “Charlie? Is that your boyfriend?” And why did he care? He wasn’t here to date Kate. The meal at Chick and Cheese had awakened some kind of odd sentimental feelings. That was all. Uh-huh. Right.
“Charlie’s not my boyfriend.” She laughed. “He’s my cat. He’s a rescue.”
The wave of relief that swept over Trent was ridiculously strong. It had to be due to returning to one of their favorite haunts, because he had no time for dating and no interest in revisiting the past.
Then why was he sitting in his favorite restaurant in college, with the woman he’d once loved—and whose heart he’d broken? For the book, he reminded himself. A mountain he couldn’t climb on his own. He didn’t have enough time or experience, and not for the first time, Trent was going to have to rely on Kate’s experience and expertise. It was the To Kill a Mockingbird test all over again, but with much bigger stakes.
“Why am I not surprised you have a rescue cat? You were always helping strays when I knew you.” There’d been a family of cats that had lived behind one of the buildings on campus, and Kate had fed them every day until they’d trusted her enough for her to bring them to a vet and then find them homes. He’d never met anyone with a heart as big as hers. If she wasn’t a writer, Trent had no doubt Kate would have become a vet or a shelter operator. She was the kind of girl who saw the need in others, even when they didn’t see it themselves.
“Including you.” She dipped her head. “I shouldn’t have said that. That’s all in the past, and right now, we’re in the present, working on the book. What happened between us has no bearing on that.”
He wanted to travel down that conversational path a little more. To ask her what she remembered, why she’d lumped him in with the strays she’d rescued. That conversation would undoubtedly lead to a recap of the breakup, which had been callous on his part, but necessary. They never would’ve been happy together in the long run, not this outdoorsman and the homebody with a rescued cat.
“Kate, can’t we—”
“So we had a few minutes to digest that excellent meal. Let’s get back to the book,” Kate said, cutting off the personal line of questions before they could restart. She shoved some of the dishes to the side, then pulled out a pen and pad of paper from her tote bag. “Start at the beginning. Tell me about your childhood.”
He admired her determination, but she wasn’t the only stubborn one sitting at the table. “On one condition.”
“What?”
“You share your story too.” Like who you’re dating. If you thought about us since college. If you’re happy.
Kate was already shaking her head. “You know me, Trent. We dated for almost a year.”
How well had he known her, though? He knew her favorite food, knew she’d tried to find the Big Dipper every night before she’d gone to bed, and knew she was close to her grandmother. But he’d be hard-pressed to name anything more about Kate’s history, or her dreams for the future. Had he really been that bad of a boyfriend? Or just a typical twenty-something, more self-involved than aware?
“True, but we were college students. Most of our conversations revolved around music and homework. Not each other. I want to know more about you.”
“Why?”
“You’re writing my memoir. I think it’s important to know the real author.” Right. That was his only reason.
Something flickered in her face, but she dropped her gaze to the notepad before he could figure out what that something was. “Where did you grow up?” she asked, ignoring his questions about her. “And you have a sister, right? I know all this, but want to be sure I have the details correct.”
Clearly, she didn’t agree with the quid-pro-quo information deal. Somehow, Trent would circle the conversation back around to her. The curiosity nagged at him, danced on the edges of his thoughts. “I do. She’s three years younger than me. We grew up in Hudson Falls, which is about an hour north of here.”
“I remember. It’s a gorgeous place.”
“You came to Sunday dinner once.” His mother had insisted, and Trent had finally caved. They’d made the trip north on a sunny spring day, and when they’d rounded the corner to the gardens, Kate had begged him to stop the car. I want a moment to take it all in, she’d said. He’d watched her gaze skip from the lilacs to the azaleas, over the thick evergreens and newly budding cherry blossoms bursting from the seams of the nursery. A cacophony of color and life that had never seemed so beautiful until he’d seen it through Kate’s eyes.
His parents had welcomed her warmly. In those days, Trent and his father had gotten along pretty well. Marla was out of high school but still trying to decide what she wanted to be and taking a few classes at the community college. Trent’s mother had been, and still was, the glue that held the entire family together. She’d welcomed Kate into the MacMillan home as if she’d always been part of the family.
“Your family was wonderful. And your mom is a really great cook.” She stopped writing and plopped her chin in her hand. “She made a roast chicken, remember? With those fingerling potatoes, tossed in an herb butter sauce. Oh, and a cherry pie that was still my very favorite dessert in the world.”
“Better than the Tres Leches cake?” Why was he jealous about his mother’s desserts? Maybe because he wanted to see Kate look at him like that, and for her to remember being with him in that same wistful, sweet tone. Trent hadn’t remembered the meal, but then again, he’d lived there for the first eighteen years of his life, which had made for a lot of awesome meals made by his mother. “That’s the pie she makes my dad for his birthday and, once in a while, a special occasion.”