And there’s only one person who I want it with.
The faint memory of our kiss on the fountain and small passing smiles on the fairground sends tingles spiraling throughout my body.
A Hallmark movie montage of holiday kisses, engagements, weddings, and babies flashes in front of my eyes, and my wide, peaceful smile somehow stretches further across my face than I knew it could. Apparently, to this point, I’ve only been using half of my cheek muscles.
“I’m going to tell her.” The sentence passes my lips before I have time to realize the implications of saying it out loud.
“That’s great, half-pint! Now, how are we going to do it?”
ChapterTwenty-Two
Jack Parker
Play:Mr. November by the National
Announcing I was going to declare my feelings for Aulie in a hospital room in front of my sister was a terrible idea.
Given that my sisters and mother had a new family member to dote on, you’d think that I could have escaped the entire situation unscathed, but apparently, old habits die hard in this family. This habit, the one where they smother me and I become their plaything, is getting old. In the three days after my hospital room proclamation, Simone and Amy have been throwing out grand gesture ideas. Considering the most realistic option was me riding in on a horse dressed as Mr. Darcy, I dismissed each one.
I’ve tried telling them I’m not planning on proposing to the woman. I’m just going to be honest and casually mention that I have feelings for her that run deeper than the platonic ones.
For whatever reason, this answer hasn’t placated them the way I hoped it would.
Yesterday, after Lucy had a tiny stuck-in-the-house meltdown, I decided today would be perfect to take her, Coby, and Grant apple-picking. Amy could take care of Simone and Tom’s house while they rested.
All three women encouraged me to ask Aulie to come and help, claiming Coby and Grant alone would be too much for me to handle on my own at the orchard.
With a sigh, I agreed. I’d procrastinated the terrifying conversation long enough, and an orchard was as good a place as any for the planned discussion.
Splashing water on my face in Simone’s guest bathroom sink, I tell my hammering heart to chill. The conversation isn’t happening for a few more hours. There’s no use going through cardiac distress this early in the day.
With my glasses on and my contacts resting in their solution, I do a once over at the outfit I have planned for today—ripped jeans, that according to my stylist hugs my butt in all the right places, and a tight grey Henley. I’ve overthought every aspect of this conversation except the actual words I’ll say. Those keep getting stuck somewhere I don’t have access to in my mind.
Two shrill shrieks carry into the house as a stampede of wild, hungry animals clamber through the living room.
So, the terrors have arrived, then.
Coby and Grant aren’t as bad as everyone makes them out to be. They’re high energy, sure, but so was Grady in college, and I handled him fine.
With a final once over, I nod at my reflection, and walk out to greet my overly invested family.
“Coby—” Amy’s far too soft voice floats away in the wood-fire air. “Is this a good choice? Or a bad one?”
“It’s a fun one.” The springs of the old rickety sofa creak in a consistent rhythm. “So it has to be good.”
I round the corner, tucking Coby smoothly under my arm. He wiggles and giggles as I spin him around a few times and gently place him on the ground. I ruffle my hand through his hair. “Be good today so we can get a treat on the way home.”
“What kind of treat?” Coby asks, already sizing up his next misdeed.
“I was thinking ice cream?”
“With sprinkles?”
I scoff. “As if I’d get you ice cream without sprinkles. Who do you think I am?”
He reaches for my back. “Up. Up.”
Kneeling, Coby climbs onto my back and I curl my hands under his legs just as my mother walks into the living room. She’s wearing her typical blonde pixie cut longer these days and looks better rested than I’ve seen in years. Right now, she’s grinning, wide and suspiciously.
