“I know you didn’t invite me?—”
“Stay,” I said without actively deciding to. But it was true. I wanted Ian here, in my home.
I thought about what it might be like to share a bed with him. He would undoubtedly be a cuddler and would probably steal the covers, too. I wondered if he snored or if he was restless in his sleep. My rusty imagination considered us waking up together. Having coffee before going on our run. Doing normal things that people did every day.
Sharing a life.
Making that choice.
His nose nuzzled my cheek. “I want to stay, but I should get back in case Georgie needs me.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I understand.”
“You could come with me. And stay the night.”
He said it with so much blatant hope that it killed me to deny him. “I don’t want to confuse George. If he found me there.”
“Are you kidding? He’d be thrilled, and I’d be the hero who invited his favorite person over for breakfast.”
I smiled, ducking my head into his chest to press a kiss there. “I think I should stay here tonight. But ...” I hesitated as my heart took off at a sudden gallop. “Next time.”
The fingers that had been lazily stroking my shoulder paused. “Next time?”
Cupping his strong jaw, I let my lips linger on his for one breath—then another—before I said very definitively, “Next time.”
eighteen
JOAN
As strange as it was to consider, my life settled down into something approaching normal in the new year.
January took shape with the return of Sophia and Darren. Mac and Brady went on a two-week vacation to Iceland and came back with treats for everyone and stories to share.
When I considered the upheaval to my life last fall, it was bizarre to think how quickly I’d adapted to a new normal.
But the farm and I were always in sync. I knew the land and what needed to be done in every season. It was comforting that way.
I found my rhythm with Ian, too. We spent as much time together as we could.
George’s happiness was what mattered to Ian. The little boy was a priority for both of us. I didn’t want anything about his life here in Kirby Falls to change because Ian and I were ... doing whatever it was we were doing.
It felt inadequate to say we were just sleeping together. And inaccurate to claim we were dating. We’d fallen into a domestic routine of sorts. Running and lunches and dinners when we could manage them. Board games and movie nights with the kid.
George still visited me in the fields in the afternoons. We spent time taking care of Ralph and working with Mercer on whatever the day’s tasks happened to be.
Ian found his way into my bed as scheduling permitted. Sometimes I stayed across the highway in the big house with Ian, sleeping in his bed and letting him make me protein pancakes and really terrible coffee in the morning.
My life may have taken a drastic turn somewhere in the last few weeks, but it felt more like a steady merge onto the highway, two paths becoming something new and different, all while going in the same direction.
The film was set to wrap principal photography in mid-March, less than a month from now. The cast and essential production crew would then go back to LA to film some of the interior scenes in a studio. Ian also had obligations. He had a premiere coming up for a film he’d shot last year and a press tour following that.
Real life wasn’t encroaching just yet, but it was on the horizon, like a summer storm charging the air with electricity. I was trying not to let it affect my mood. I didn’t want George to think I was grouchy for no reason or mad at him in some way. Similarly, I didn’t want Ian to read resentment in my tone or silence.
But things were going to change, whether we wanted them to or not.
It was a chilly February morning, and I was checking over the rows of Fuji trees for any sign of disease. It was important to monitor the trees when they were dormant, and it happened to be a big part of my job in the winter.
I’d just climbed back onto the ATV when I felt my phone vibrate with a text.
