Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“I hadn’t thought about it. They both have their advantages. A house hidden in the trees near the river would be peaceful and cozy like a hug. A higher elevation would give views but also some protection, seeing things like wildfires before they reach the property. So security.” I look over at him when he’s silent. “What about you?”
“What if security was a given for both? Do you prefer one over the other?”
“You sound so serious. I feel like I might fail if I give the wrong answer.”
He slips his arm around my shoulders. “No. There are no wrong answers. I’ve just been thinking about this a lot lately.”
I sit up and angle toward him. “Are you thinking about moving back?” My heartbeat races for a response to a question I didn’t think was at play.
He sits next to me, bending his knees and resting his arms over them. “I didn’t mean to mislead you. I just want to get to know you, Pris.”
“Right. Yeah, I figured. I just . . . I don’t know why I jumped to conclusions like that.” I shake my head and turn my gaze to the view again. “The river house.” I take a calming breath. “I love the sound of water—rivers, oceans, even fountains.”
I can feel his gaze still on me, but I don’t look. I’m a bit embarrassed for sounding like a lovesick schoolgirl. If he moved here, it would give our relationship a solid chance because I’m still unsure how doing long distance with him will look.
“I’m sorry—”
“No. No need.” I look at him, and ask, “Was lunch a euphemism, or is there going to be food involved?”
He grabs a box from the empty metal tool chest in the back of the truck and sets it in front of us. “I didn’t know what you like, so I got a lot of everything from Sassy’s over in Dover.”
There’s container after container of different foods, from cut fruit to pasta salad, burgers, fries, hot dogs, and a plethora of other things. I enjoy the tarragon chicken salad before eating grapes and cantaloupe, and sip on a can of Waterloo mixed berries sparkling water.
Because the sun is stronger today, he places his hat on my head to shade my face, which is basically the only physical contact we’ve had. I assume that he has as much on his mind as I do since we’re eating in silence.
Being whisked away for lunch, I somehow imagined it being more couple-y. We’re alone and free to kiss as much as we want. But we’re not. I don’t like the start of our secret relationship being heavy like this. “What’s going on, Tagger? Please talk to me.”
Rubbing his palm over my knee, he watches it instead of looking at me. “I have a flight tomorrow morning at six o’clock.”
The fruit is suddenly unappealing. I set the fork and bowl back in the box and turn to face him. “I thought you were here longer?”
“My flight was originally for Wednesday.”
“Today is Sunday,” I reply dumbly as if he doesn’t already know.
“This was out of my control, babe.” He finally dares to look into my eyes. “I had a meeting added to my schedule that I’m expected to attend at four o’clock tomorrow in the city.”
Searching his greens, I can’t find a lie to contradict him. “And if you miss it?”
“I won’t.”
“What if you do?”
“I’m not missing it,” he says with such finality that I’m almost intimidated to continue questioning him. Almost. Few people intimidate me. Even fewer men. Yet he does, and I’m not sure why, other than it feels like we’re on unequal footing. “I’ll be cutting it close, but I’ll be there.”
“Okay,” I say like I hold any power.
I do. I control how I react to bumps in the road. Anyway, he wasn’t asking for my opinion. The decision was made regardless of how I felt. So what am I fighting against? Is his life in New York now the enemy? That’s not going to change. He’s already making it clear that it will win every time.
Either I adapt or there is no we anymore. It’s that simple.
He tilts to the side to catch my eyes. When I look at him, I can’t muster a smile, and I know he can tell. He says, “Like I said, I’m sorry. It’s not something that was planned. I booked my ticket for Wednesday to spend more time here. But this meeting is important for my career.”
“I wouldn’t know what that’s like. I’m just a ranch hand around these parts.”
“You’re more than that, but this isn’t a reflection of my life versus yours. Babe?” He takes my hands in his and holds them between us. “I’m just as disappointed. Yesterday meant a lot to me, and the time we spent together was incredible. But this is just a blip.”