Page 125 of Once Upon a Fall

And then the one thing that’s been haunting me. Keeping the farm means staying in one place. I’ve never done that. Not for very long, at least. But the nomadic life I’ve been living has never felt so old as it does now, after coming back to Manhattan from Autumn Ridge.

Maybe I’m finally ready to have somewhere to come home to.

Rosie

The princess came up with the perfect plan. The prince ruined it.

I’m going to Manhattan.

Two days after deciding I’m going to tell Dean how I feel, I realize I’m being dumb. Why am I waiting? It could take months for the farm to sell, and by then who knows what will have happened?

Also, I had the following conversation with Emma after I told her my plan to talk to him:

“Why are you waiting until the farm sells?” she asked me as we walked along Main Street during her lunch break from the library.

“Because,” I replied. I really didn’t have a good answer to that question, and the truth was the same reason I didn’t tell him when he was here. I was a chicken.

There was a chill in the air, and most of the leaves had already turned brown, with only a few stubborn patches of orange and gold still clinging to the trees while the sidewalks and yards were covered in everything that had already fallen.

“Because isn’t an answer,” she said.

“I know. Maybe I should just tell him.” I turned to her, expecting some sort of Obviously or Why are you such a chicken? But she only gave me a shrug.

Later that day, I called her and told her I was going to Manhattan to tell Dean tomorrow, half expecting her to tell me that was a bit over the top, but all she said was, “I think that’s a great idea. I’ll watch the inn for you.”

Since I had a few days with no guests, it was the perfect time. So, I’m currently packing a bag to go on a little road trip. My plan is to drive there, go straight to his hotel, and then say what I’ve wanted to say.

After that . . . I don’t know. He could tell me it won’t work. We could have a lengthy discussion about how different our lives are and why there’s just no realistic way to make this happen. Dean could also tell me I got this all wrong, and a relationship with me isn’t something he’s looking for.

Or . . . he could kiss me and tell me he feels the same way.

Obviously, that’s the outcome I’m hoping for, but I need to be prepared for all of them.

Once I’ve said what I drove all the way there to say, I’ll figure out the rest. My original plan was to turn around and drive straight home, but Emma and Dominic insisted on paying for a hotel outside the city so I won’t have to make the whole trip in one day. I argued for approximately two minutes before deciding free lodging was not the hill I wanted to die on.

This is probably a dumb plan. I’ve changed my mind a half dozen times and even written out two long texts to Dean before deleting them. I don’t want to tell him that way.

So, I’ve made up my mind.

I’m pretty sure.

I’ve got an afternoon of cleaning to do to get the rooms ready for guests, since there are three bookings for the weekend, and I won’t have much time when I get back to get them ready.

I’m a bundle of nerves as I clean the chandelier in the Sleeping Beauty room, straighten the tower prints in Rapunzel, and wipe down the vanity in Cinderella. My mind keeps going back and forth, one minute thinking my plan for tomorrow is the best one I’ve had, and the next thinking I might be losing it.

I can’t just drive to Manhattan and tell Dean I love him.

Yes, I can.

Apparently, those are my only two options.

I’m still waffling as I fold towels in the laundry room later that evening when I hear someone call my name from the front of the inn.

“Rosie?”

I freeze mid-washcloth-fold because I know that voice. In a massive room full of tons of people calling out my name, I would know that one instantly.

“Dean?” I drop the towel back into the pile and run through the kitchen and out the door to the front entry.