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“I think a bomb fire sounds cooler,” he says after a few moments of gazing off at some indeterminate point in the distance.
I push off the fence and head toward him. “I think so too.”
I help him off the fence and then we head back toward the house. It’s been another great day with Luke, but there’s a small knot building in my stomach and has been for most of the day. I haven’t heard a thing from Mia, and I’m not sure when I will or if I will.
Maybe she’s come to the same conclusion I did: It’s a bad idea for numerous reasons. But I don’t care. All I care about is Mia.
After catching up with my field hands, Luke and I head inside for homemade pizza and a movie—a Sunday night ritual that I look forward to.
“What movie are we watching?” I ask, heading to the fridge to remove all the ingredients. We get everything set up before we do our inspections, so all it takes is firing up the oven, adding some sauce and toppings, and then the most important part, picking the movie.
“The Lego Movie.”
I sigh, closing my eyes as the refrigerated air cools my skin. I’ll revise my previous statement. A Sunday night ritual I usually look forward to. Right now, I have a complicated relationship with those exceptionally sharp bricks, and I still need to have that conversation with him.
“Sounds great,” I say as I grab everything out of the refrigerator “Just…” I plop the dough out on the counter, followed by the sauce, cheese, and pepperoni. “Great.”
I’m taking the pizza out of the oven when I get a text. The text. The one I’ve been waiting on all day.
Mia: Okay, I’ll do it.
I read the text over and over again, each time feeling a little bit lighter—only a half dozen more times and I’d be floating. I’ve been waiting for a few minutes, watching those three little dots pop up, but there’s no new text.
Wyatt: Great. When can you start?
The dots are still there, and I wait patiently as she writes a response. Continues to write a response. The dots refuse to disappear. The gnawing anxiety in my gut begins to grow, spreading until finally, I see the Great Wall of Text.
It starts with ground rules. A list of expectations and boundaries. There are more stipulations and clauses than any contract I’ve signed. If I could unspool the text, it would be long enough to wrap around this farm multiple times over.
But the truth is, I don’t care. There’s not a single thing that she could have written that would’ve changed a thing. I want Mia. I need Mia. And now that she’s Luke’s nanny, I’ll have her. Eventually. I don’t care how long it will take.
Mia: I can start tomorrow.
Wyatt: Luke will be thrilled.
But not as much as me.
After slicing the pizza I head into the living room with a couple of plates.
“Pizza’s done,” I say, nudging Luke.
“Thanks,” he says, grabbing a slice. “It’s great,” he says after taking a bite.
“You know what’s better?”
He looks at me, shaking his head. “I forgot to tell you that I snagged us some of Mom’s cobbler for dessert.”
His eyes bug out and he leaps from the couch to grab his portion, but I snatch him before he gets too far and guide him back down to the couch.
“Easy, buddy. Eat a few slices,” I say as though pizza is somehow healthier than the sugar bomb of cobbler. “Then you can have some cobbler.”
“Okay,” he grumbles and I can’t help but laugh.
Never thought I’d see the day that I’d have to coerce Luke to eat some pizza. But Mom’s cobbler is in another league for this kid.
I take a bite. Not bad. “And you know what’s better than cobbler?”
He gives me a look. “What?”
