The Peach Keeper

by Sarah Addison Allen

Rachel headed off to meet her boyfriend for an evening hike, which was so annoyingly healthy that Willa made up for it by taking a brownie out of the snack case and eating it in three big bites.

“I’ll be seeing you, Willa.” “Not if I see you first, Colin.” Oh, yes, that was definitely a challenge.

“Why were you leaning against the door?” he asked. “I told you you wouldn’t see me if I saw you first.” “I didn’t think that meant you would literally hide from me.” “Not one of my finer moments,” she admitted.

There was a strange but universal understanding among women. On some level, all women knew, they all understood, the fear of being outnumbered, of being helpless. It throbbed in their chests when they thought about the times they left stores and were followed. The knocks on their car windows as they were sitting alone at red lights, and strangers asking for rides. Having too much to drink and losing their ability to be forceful enough to just say no. Smiling at strange men coming on to them, not wanting to hurt their feelings, not wanting to make a scene. All women remembered these things, even if they had never happened to them personally. It was a part of their collective unconscious.

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“You will be. You know why? Because that’s what’s supposed to happen. That’s the fairy tale. You meet, you fall in love, you kiss, and neither of you is revolted by it. You get married and have kids and live happily ever after.” “The not-being-revolted part is a nice touch,” Willa said.

Happiness meant taking risks. No one had ever told Paxton that before. It was like a secret the world had been keeping from her.

“Willa said happiness means taking risks. And if you’re not a little scared, you’re not doing it right.” That made him laugh. “If that’s the case, we have nothing to worry about,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her. “Let’s be terrified together again.”

Sebastian had been right. If you make room in your life, good things will enter.