If It Makes You Happy

by Julie Olivia

It’s the beginning of September, and the leaves have begun shifting from summer greens to deep auburn and burnished golds.

Copper Run smells like crunching leaves and breezes that bite. There’s a hint of something warm in the air too—baked bread of some kind. Maybe a pie or biscuits in the oven.

the feeling of being seen,

I can see his eyes are a light blue, reminiscent of a summer day devoid of clouds. Bright. Happy. Nothing like today’s overcast sky, a day almost filtered in sepia from all the falling leaves.

I’m turning over a new leaf.” Carol tsks. “Pretty sure the leaves outside are dead.”

That’s the thing about Cliff—he touches everyone, and it’s always warm.

A wink so casual that my heart stutters.

You’re beautiful, even when you scowl.”

Cliff can be frustrating. But I also kinda like him. A little bit.

I like that he says my full name, mostly because I know it’s intentional. Cliff might lean too close or ask too many personal questions that catch me off guard, but he knows how to make people feel seen. Sometimes too seen.

He’s so different from me. If I’m autumn, he’s spring. He’s all smiles and glowing warmth.

Cliff isn’t shy to touch. His touch is always gentle. It’s not greedy or wanting or even carrying implications.

Cliff is sarcastic and shameless and cocky and…attractive.

Cliff is attractive when he runs a palm through his hair. He’s attractive when he huffs out frustrated breaths in defense of his daughters. He’s attractive when he smiles, and he’s attractive when he gives that half smirk and the little line beside his lips creases.

Our marriage wasn’t perfect, but it was us. I loved us. I loved her.

“Well, I’ll let you in on a secret. Men? We want women. Period. Over thirty. Forty. Hell, over sixty. Short, tall, brunette, blond—doesn’t matter. We like them all. Especially women over thirty.”

Not my baker Cliff.

I’ve never had someone be so blunt yet so unintentionally kind at the same time. But that’s the kind of woman Michelle is.

She’s beautiful like this—thrilled and entirely overwhelmed. I don’t know what lies she tells herself; there’s no way she could be underwhelming.

The world tilts. It suddenly feels like I’m falling through the ground, straight to the center of the earth. God, she’s breathtaking.

How the hell did I get privileged enough to see this side of her?

Maybe in another world, it could work out. I don’t know what world that would be, but it sure isn’t this one, where I’m a walking tornado and she’s beautiful, out of my league, and leaving in two months.

One bite is enough to likely rival any food that could exist in heaven.

I like his deadpan humor and his messy, complicated life. I like the fact that he needs touch as much as he needs oxygen. I like that he says what he wants and takes what he wants and doesn’t apologize for either. I like that, at the end of the day, he’s my friend.

And that—that right there—is the exact moment I know I need to kiss him. Because, despite Cliff taking a risk, he immediately backtracks when he thinks I’m uncomfortable. Because he’s that kind of friend. He’s that kind of man.

Cliff is slow with action, like he’s savoring every piece of me I’m allowing him to touch.

I can’t get enough. I could kiss him forever.

my girls are my girls and they’re the center of my world.

It’s like how, one day, the leaves are bright and green, and then, suddenly, they’re flittering to the ground in dull browns and oranges.

The last thing I want is to lose her for the two months I have her. I have to forget the kiss if it means I get to keep her. And I need to keep her while I can.

Because even though she’s here and we’re okay, I know a piece of my heart—the piece she captured so quickly—flitted away like a leaf on the wind.

Erasing the taste of her isn’t something I can do overnight—or

She’s sunshine. Cliff deserves sunshine after all he’s been through.

“Because you mean more to me than just a simple, confusing kiss.”

I don’t want to go on more dates. I want Michelle. Not as a friend. Not as a fling. I want her.

“I want you to be happy and—” His next words almost come out in a whisper. “Have you ever thought I might be happy with you?” I tense, taking in a shaky breath. “You can’t mean that.” “I almost wish I didn’t.” “But you said—” “I say so many things that I don’t know what comes out of my mouth half the time,” he says. “But you do…you make me happy. So, there. I’m stuck in my own damn head with thoughts of you that I can’t get rid of. So, what do I do? Huh? What do I do?”

It hurts, like I deserve. It’s painful, like I need. And I’m melting into it faster than either of us can breathe.

“I like you because you’re Michelle. And that’s enough.”

I love this woman. I don’t know when it happened. It slipped over me so softly, like the changing of seasons. The seeping scent of baked bread first thing in the morning. A wistful sigh on a perfect fall day.

Friendship with Cliff Burke was fun. Friendship with benefits is even better.

I love Michelle. I love her, and I’ll have to let her go.

Words against Michelle? Not in my house. Not anywhere.

Michelle doesn’t put up with me. She chooses to be around me.

I wish I could pause this moment. Maybe keep it on my shelf like a beautiful snow globe I can shake whenever I like. But that isn’t how life works.

Mom’s right; this is the silly, irrationally scary thing. This is freedom. A small town with people who see me.