The Choice - Nicholas Sparks [70]
“I see,” Travis said with mock seriousness.
Over the water, the first brilliant act of the sun’s descent was beginning. In another hour the creek would turn golden, but for now there was something dark and mysterious about its brackish color. Beyond the cypress trees lining the bank, Travis could see an osprey floating on updrafts and watched as a small motorboat loaded with fishing gear puttered past. It was captained by someone old enough to be Travis’s grandfather, and the gentleman waved. Travis returned the greeting, then took another drink.
“With all you said, I’m curious as to whether you can imagine yourself staying in Beaufort.”
She thought about her answer, sensing there was more to the question than it appeared.
“I suppose that depends,” she finally hedged. “It’s not exactly exciting, but on the other hand, it’s not a bad place to raise a family.”
“And that’s important?”
She turned toward him with a faint air of challenge. “Is there anything more important?”
“No,” he agreed evenly, “there isn’t. I’m evidence of that belief because I lived it. Beaufort is the kind of place where Little League baseball generates more conversation than the Super Bowl, and I like thinking that I can raise my kids where the little world they live in is all they know. Growing up, I used to think that this was the most boring place in the world, but when I think back, I realize that the corollary to that was that anything exciting meant that much more to me. I never grew jaded, the way so many city kids do.” He paused. “I remember going fishing with my dad every Saturday morning, and even though my dad was just about the worst fisherman who ever baited a hook, I found it thrilling. Now I understand that for my dad, at least, it was all about spending time with me, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that. I like thinking that I can give my kids the same kinds of experiences someday.”
“It’s nice to hear you say something like that,” Gabby said. “A lot of people don’t think that way.”
“I love this town.”
“Not that,” she said, smiling. “I was talking about the way you wanted to raise your kids. It seems like you’ve given it a lot of thought.”
“I have,” he conceded.
“You always have a way of surprising me, don’t you.”
“I don’t know. Do I?”
“A little. The more I’ve gotten to know you, the more you’ve come to strike me as impossibly well-adjusted.”
“I could say the same about you,” he responded. “Maybe that’s why we get along so well.”
She stared at him, feeling the crackle of tension between them. “You ready for dinner yet?”
He swallowed, hoping she couldn’t sense his feelings for her. “That sounds great,” he forced out.
Taking their wineglasses, they returned to the kitchen. Gabby motioned for Travis to sit at the table while she got things ready, and as he watched her move around the kitchen, he felt a sense of contentment settle upon him.
At dinner, he ate two pieces of chicken, enjoyed the green beans and the pasta, and complimented Gabby extravagantly on her cooking, until she giggled, begging him to stop. He asked her repeatedly about her childhood in Savannah, and she finally relented, regaling him with a couple of girlhood stories that made them both chuckle. In time, the sky turned gray and blue and finally black. The candles burned lower, and they poured the last of the wine into their glasses, both aware that they were sitting across from a person who just might change the course of their lives forever if they weren’t careful.
After dinner was over and Travis helped Gabby clean up, they retreated to the couch, nursing their wine and sharing stories from their pasts. Gabby tried to imagine Travis as a young boy, wondering also what she would have thought about him had they met during her high school or college years.
As the evening wore on, Travis inched closer, casually slipping his arm around her. Gabby leaned into him, feeling snug against him, content to watch the play of silver moonlight as it filtered through the clouds.
“What are you thinking about?” Travis asked at one