“Twister’s a wimp compared to you,” Sadie says definitively as she douses her last bite of strawberry pancake in maple syrup.
I raise my coffee mug and she raises her juice, then Landry joins and we clink in unison to Twister being a wimp. After Sadie and I do the dishes, I help her find her overalls, and I wear mine, too. We spend some time getting eggs from the coop, and Tate comes over to feed Daisy and Hector. Around noon, I decide to head to the store, but get Landry comfortable in my editing nook on the back porch before I do.
“Feel kinda like a poser out here,” he says, tucking one of the pillows under his arm as he adjusts. “This is your space. I hate… encroaching.”
I swipe my hands down my overalls after setting his sweet tea down next to him. “You built this space, it’s yours as much as it is mine! And anyway, you can see the girls from here.” I point to the pasture where Petunia and Sadie are playing tag. I dig around in my pocket and produce a small pink whistle. “And here, if you need to get their attention but don’t wanna strain your neck shouting, just blow this.”
He takes the whistle from me, and it looks like it belongs to a Barbie when he holds it. “Is this… a rape whistle?”
I nod my head. “Absolutely. But, for today’s purpose, it can just be a kid-getting whistle.”
Landry blinks up at me, his long legs stretched out, heels stacked on the banister. “Did you bring this here for…?”
I nearly choke on the assumption. “No! I didn’t think you were gonna—No! No, no! I bought it off Amazon and had it sent to me at the inn the first week.” I smile. “It’s my ‘step-off, Mr. McCharger’ whistle.”
Landry chuckles, and places the whistle down next to his tea. “That makes sense.”
“Okay, well, I’m gonna go get you everything you need to fix you up. Do not get up, okay? Just… rest.” I move for the screen door, but Landry catches my hand and stops me. His big blue eyes always say so much.
“Hey. Thank you for taking care of me. And thank you for being there for us. And thank you for a wonderful few months.” He smiles, and the sentiment is so sweet, but something about the way he said that has me uneasy, only slightly.
I bend down and press a soft, goodbye kiss to his lips, and the moment I’m in the car, I call my mom.
“Hey, hon, how’s Landry’s neck feeling?” she asks, because I send her clips of Landry on the daily.
“Sore.” I flick my blinker on at the first stop sign. “Hey, I need you to tell me to stop overthinking.”
Mom doesn’t waste any minutes. “You’re overthinking.” A pause. “Better?”
I push out a breath as I turn the corner, the Feed ’n’ Seed whipping by. “Not really. But I know I need to stop overthinking, so tell me again.”
“Or,” Mom hedges. “You could tell me what you’re overthinking about?”
I let out a long sigh and explain the situation to her. She’s well aware that Landry and I are planning to make things work after the rodeo, despite the fact we’ve got none of those details ironed out. She knows that the annulment is off the table, and that what started as a solution to a pinch has evolved into something full-bodied and rich, something beautiful and special.
“He’s just reflecting, is all,” Mom decides immediately after hearing my discomfort around being thanked for the last few months. “It’s coming to a close next week and he’s reflecting. I think it’s okay, honey. This isn’t the type of man to spring any surprises.”
I find a parking spot at the market and slide in, shifting the car to park. “I know. You’re right. You’re so right. I think I’m just doing my anxious overthinking because he’s hurt and the rodeo is next week. I’m just… anxious.”
“Yeah,” my mom agrees. “The film is almost done. You’re about to be graded by your peers on your work and show the world the film you made. Your husband is about to make the greatest comeback in his career. Anxiety is normal. In fact, if you weren’t overthinking and anxious, I’d wonder if something was wrong.”
I snort. “I would, too, I think.”
“Okay,” Mom says, the singular word providing so much comfort. “So, then you know, you’re under some stress and your brain is doing laps.”
Laney pipes up in the background the way younger siblings so helpfully do. “Rope ’em, cowgirl!”
“Laney just passed by. She says hi.”
“I heard.” I pull a cart from the corral and shove inside, enjoying the cool air that stings my sweaty skin once I’m in the air-conditioned store. “Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate the talk and I can’t wait for you guys to come out.”
“No date on the film premiere yet?” she asks.
I shake my head like she can see me as I dig my shopping list out of one of the many pockets on my overalls, discovering a hard candy and a rubber band before I get there. “Not yet. I reached out to Devin a few days ago, telling him that UBS will need to secure a local place and order food and get a screen… Still waiting to hear back.”
“Maybe he’s lost in the camel toe and can’t find his way out,” Mom deadpans. And yes, I told my mom about the frontal lip situation happening with Devin’s new girlfriend.
I pull two cans of beans off the shelf and place them in the cart. “Yeah, well, he can keep his camel toe queen, and she can have him. I just need to know where we can screen this film so I can get you two tickets out here.”
