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I stop there, suddenly overcome with a mix of guilt and sadness, and I begin to chew at my lip. I want to tell him about my day and all about the bees, but that isn’t what we’ve been doing. We don’t share our excitement about our days and all the little details of what made it so great. We gloss over that stuff and slide right into those deeper, obscure questions, and while it’s been fun and far from the norm, I’m missing that basic connection, the simplicity of sharing my day with someone.
But how can I tell him about my day when it involves another guy? How can I fill him in without it sounding like I spend all my time with Tommy? When in reality, I really do spend more time with him than anyone else at work now. Something about it feels awkward and the word “jealousy” lurks in the back of my mind. But not just that, I’m struggling to reconcile my feelings, my feelings for both of them.
My phone vibrates, pulling me from my thoughts, expecting to see a message from C.Grizwold, but what I get instead is a text from Tommy.
Tommy: Check this out. You really need to get down here and get some pics of the cider house tasting room at night.
Attached is a picture of the cider house tasting room all lit up and practically glowing within the dark night’s sky. It looks stunning with its vaulted ceiling and numerous oversized windows along with the massive chandelier as its centerpiece in the front window.
Me: How about tomorrow? You want to meet me there?
Chapter Twelve
Tommy
“How are the bees going?”
I look down from the ladder I’m standing on. “The bees aren’t going anywhere.”
Jack smirks at me. “You know what I mean. How are they coming along?”
I stick the dead bulb into the back pocket of my jeans. “Hand me that bulb, will you?” I ask, pointing to the box on the bar. Jack walks over and grabs it before holding it up to me, an expectant look on his face. “The bees are fine,” I say exhaling as I take the bulb from him.
Once it’s screwed in, I climb down the ladder and walk over to the wall. Flicking the switch, I watch as the impressive chandelier Jack had installed in the tasting room lights up, all of the bulbs now working.
“I think it’s cool what you guys are doing,” Jack says, moving over and packing up the ladder for me.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Uh huh,” he says with a nod. “Lu mentioned about selling the honey or doing something else with it.”
“Pen actually had this idea about making mead.” The words are out before I can even stop them and I cringe as Jack glances back at me, a huge grin on his face.
“Oh, Pen did, did she?” he teases.
I roll my eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jack chuckles, as he carries the ladder back to the storeroom. “Oh nothing.”
“Bullshit,” I call out as I wait for him to return, knowing this is definitely not nothing. Nor the end of this conversation.
He lets out another laugh as he moves behind the bar to grab two glasses. Holding one up to me in a silent question, he waits for my nod before filling the glass with a cloudy apple cider he recently made and had hooked up to the taps.
I wait until he hands me the glass, watching as he fills one for himself. “Jack?” I prompt when he still hasn’t said anything.
He grins as he moves around to the same side of the bar I’m standing on, pulling out a stool and taking a seat, indicating for me to do the same. I reluctantly do, knowing that whatever he’s about to say right now, I’m probably not gonna like it.
“Just spit it out, Jack.”
“What?” he asks, hands up in mock surrender as he lets out a laugh.
“You obviously have something you want to say, so just say it.”
Jack takes a sip of his cider, smacking his lips together. “Damn, that’s good.”
I also take a sip, nodding in acknowledgement. “Might be my favorite, actually.”
“Why don’t you ask her out?” he suddenly blurts out and I practically spit my mouthful of cider across the bar.
