Page 92 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

"I wonder how busy the farm is today."

"Tripp texted and said we're at capacity. And the factory is full, too."

She laughs incredulously, but I don't understand how she could possibly be surprised. Excited, sure. But surprised? She has a Midas touch with ads and marketing. A week from now, every town will be trying to copy what she’s done here. Lou’s fans will post countless copycat videos of themselves in Sugar Maple trying to recreate her reel frame by frame.

We can't find an empty bench to eat at, so I lead her to a hidden gem off the beaten path. It's tucked deep into the trees that flank this part of the river, and it's not the easiest spot to get to, but there's a clearing about eight feet back from the river once we're there. I try to push the branches out of Ash's way as much as possible, but when we stop, she has leaves in her hair.

I pluck them out. "Nature looks good on you."

"Everything looks good on you," Ash blurts.

No amount of cold plunges could prepare me for the extraordinary task of not kissing her right here, right now.

I lay down a thick blanket and hear a FaceTime call on Ash’s phone.

“It’s my parents. Do you mind if I get this? I know they’d love to say hi."

"I don't mind," I say.

She accepts the chat, and the screen flashes with the beaming faces of her parents. They're in Greg's home office, which has a huge Silver Surfer poster in the background. I commented on the poster the first time I saw it—I know comic books as well as any kid with a love of reading and a bent for visual arts. Greg was surprised I knew him and told me that Black dads from his generation all love the Silver Surfer. Then he friended me on Facebook and sent me links to posts about it, and we became social media friends who share nerdy comic book memes.

Yes, I'm friends with Ash's dad.

"Hi, AJ!" Greg says. "Rusty! My man!

"Hi, baby," her mom says. "Hi Rusty!"

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson,” I say. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ash’s mouth twist.

“Call them Greg and Jennifer,” she says. Her smile looks forced. “You’ve known them long enough. Greg sent you like seven memes this morning.”

“She’s right.” Greg laughs. Then he gives me a Dad look. “Now, are you treating my baby girl well?"

"Yes sir," I say.

"Good man."

Ash's mom moves her head around as if she's trying to see past us. "Are you two on a date?" she asks.

She always asks this. And Ash always rolls her eyes and says, "Calm down. We're just friends." It's a knife twisting in my gut time and again. I brace myself for a twist?—

"Well, we're eating together," Ash says, her intonation rising and falling suggestively. "Alone."

I forget we're on camera and stare at Ash. The side of her mouth quirks up as she keeps looking at her parents on the screen.

"YOU'RE ON A DATE!" her mom says. "I knew it. I knew you'd realize soon enough that you two are meant to be?—"

"Mom!"

"Hon," Greg says at the same time. "Let's give them a bit of space to breathe. On their date."

Ash's mom cackles and kisses Greg. "That's my hunk of a man," she says.

Greg takes a bite at Ash's mom, and it's cheesy and mildly inappropriate, and I find I love these two more than ever.

They're rooting for me.

That has to mean something, right?

---