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“What?”
He shakes his head, his mouth open as he seems to search for something to say, though I don’t understand what the issue is.
“Or you could stay here,” he finally says. “You know you can keep staying in the guesthouse, right?”
I smile at him. So thoughtful and so caring, making sure I know I’m welcome in his home.
We really do need to talk about what things will be like once we get back to Boston. I’ve never felt like this about someone in my life, and just knowing we will get to take this beautiful relationship back home with us makes me so happy.
“Thank you for that. I love being here with you and your family,” I say. “I only brought up going home because it feels like…I don’t know, like maybe getting back to my life and my mom would help ease some of the shit in my chest. I have a refundable ticket, so I can always change the date and just like…fly home tomorrow, if I want.”
Again, Boyd looks like he’s struggling to find something to say, which I don’t understand. Eventually, he just nods at me and pops another grape in his mouth.
That’s when a thought occurs to me. “Do you…I mean…do you want me to stay, or…”
I trail off, that little bit of self-consciousness I’ve been trying so hard to push aside rearing her ugly head.
What if this is Boyd’s way of helping me decide? I mean, he says I’m welcome at the guesthouse, but does he really want me to stay?
Boyd bats my question aside like it’s a gnat. “Of course I want you to stay,” he assures me, his voice filled with sincerity. “The question is whether or not you want to be here.”
I lean back on the couch, nodding my head. “Of course I’ll stay,” I reply. “I want to be here with you. Obviously.”
And it’s true. Every fiber of my being craves being around him. All the time, almost to the point of neediness, though I’m trying to be careful not to toe that line too much.
I appreciate how quickly Boyd yanked me out of that place of self-doubt with his reassurances. It confirms for me that he is probably on the same page as me, that he also sees this as something that will last after we leave this sweet lakeside town.
But even though I believe we feel the same, there’s still a little voice inside me that whispers the lies I’ve been trying so hard to fight.
He’s just appeasing you.
He’s going to kick you to the curb eventually.
You’re such a burden.
When Boyd and I crawl into bed later that night, he spreads my thighs and slides inside of me. It feels amazing. It feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced with a man before, the way he’s able to help me enjoy sex in such a different way, the way he’s so attuned to my needs.
Sensing my desire for control, Boyd is a little more hands-off, allowing me to work him over. I love that he lets me, because I’m trying to give him something amazing, something mind-blowing.
Something that will convince him I’m worth the long haul.
chapter twenty-two
Boyd
The Cedar Point Summerpalooza is not as extravagant as it sounds. I remember the first year they decided to host a little festival to celebrate the transition from tourist season back to local living, and when the town voted to name it Summerpalooza, I shook my head even as a kid, knowing it was a stupid name.
When people hear ‘palooza’ tacked on to something, there is a certain expectation of what they’re going to get. Things like live music, tons of delicious food, maybe some fun rides or crazy games, large crowds.
If you look it up, it literally says exaggerated event.
In actuality, the annual Summerpalooza is a glorified church carnival mixed with a farmer’s market held smack in the middle of town, shutting down the cross section of Main Street and Mitchell Road.
Face painting from a few vacation bible school volunteers, live music from my cousin Edmund’s band with a single speaker amplifier, a petting zoo that consists of a handful of pet pigs, a goat, and five chickens from Melvin Kinny’s unsanctioned farm, and a dozen or so booths from local artists, crafters, and veggie growers who can’t afford to have their own shops.
Given that information, it wouldn’t seem like Summerpalooza would get off the ground at all, let alone be a treasured, annual event, but small-town people like small-town things, and the little gathering bumbled along for about ten years until a new feature was added.
A beer garden.
