Page 44 of Love is an Open Book
“That’s called being conscientious, not cowardly.” I was brave enough to tell Ted how I felt about him. Brave enough to tell Stewart we didn’t want the same things. Brave enough to keep dating until recently, even though it’s always ended in failure.
“I just hate to see you settle for being content instead of going after something better.”
“Why would I, when what I have is enough?”
“Is it?” Kim searches my face, like she’s looking for a sign that I’m truly happy before she’ll let it go.
A simple question, and a few weeks ago I would’ve said yes. That was before I let myself imagine more.You’re not the only one that wants this.But are either of us brave enough to make the move?
Fourteen
Gavin
Did I almost kiss Mia after fleeing the escape room like our actual lives depended on it? Yes. But in my defense, she almost kissed me first.
Or at least I think she did. The lights were out, but the darkness only heightened my other senses. Days later and I can still feel the grind of her hips against mine, the way her lips were a whisper from my mouth. How the smallest movement from either of us would’ve sent us past every boundary we’ve put up...
I deliberately push away the thought. I won’t relive the moment. Won’t think of how she pinned my wrist in her grasp, taking charge in a way I hadn’t known I needed, letting me cede control.
The awful thing is how badly I wanted us to careen over the edge. The rules are clear. Flirting and teasing are part of the setup. But a kiss would end this. Pretty sure there’s no way Mia would continue if we crossed that line, and she needs this. Not for inspiration—I don’t believe for a second that she truly needs my help with that—but to shake off the demons telling her this story can’t have a happy-ever-after.
We might’ve already come too close, because I haven’t seen her since. She texted to let me know she’s focusing on work this week, which makes total sense with the deadline moved up and the pressure she’s under. I just hope the escape room disaster didn’t make things worse.
In the meantime, I’ve got issues of my own to deal with. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that my dad is selling the farm. I almost convinced myself Scott made the whole thing up, but when I finally call Dad on my lunch break Wednesday, he confirms it.
“Can’t be too surprising.” His voice comes through strong and clear on speaker. I’m resting in the shade of a sturdy red maple by the curb. I gave Morris some cash and told him lunch for the crew was on me, hoping to buy myself a few minutes alone for this conversation. “I’ve loosened the reins on the farm a lot in the last year,” Dad says. “Remember my vacation last fall?”
He went to visit my uncle’s family up in Door County. “Big difference between vacation and retirement.” I don’t want to talk him out of it, but I can’t see him being happy without work.
“That’s what I’m counting on,” he says. “I’m ready for a change.”
“And you’re moving to Colorado?” That might be the most shocking part. Dad’s Midwestern roots go back generations.
“For now.” He sounds less certain. “Scott’s got an extra room and I can help out with the boys if he ends up going back to work.” I try and fail to picture my dad trading in twelve-hour days outdoors for shuttling around my nephews in the family van. “But long-term, I’m still figuring things out.”
“You don’t mind someone else taking over the farm?”
“Someone was always going to take over for me eventually. For a while I thought it would be you.”Hopedit would be me is more accurate. “Have you changed your mind?”
“I’m happy here.” The answer comes automatically.
There’s a pause, and I can picture him stepping into the shade of the Christmas tree barn, empty for the season but with a piney scent that lingers year-round. “That why you stopped coming out?”
The question I’ve been dreading. “I’ve been putting in work around the house. Fixing it up. You know how it is.”
“Not really,” he says. “You haven’t talked about it much.”
I thought he might not want updates, since I was making a life here, not at the farm. “You could come out sometime, if you want.” I haven’t invited him, afraid he’d turn me down. “Since apparently you have all this free time,” I say, keeping my tone light.
To my surprise, he says, “Sure. After Scott and Amber go back home. Send me some dates.”
Never in my life did I think I’d hear Dad say that. Mom managed the family calendar. He was always focused on running the farm. “You won’t be busy with getting stuff in order for the sale?”
“No big rush. I’ve been meeting with consultants. Won’t bore you with the details. But my guess is things will move fast, so I’m holding off till fall.” The rumble of a tractor fills the background, and he says louder, “I wanted to discuss all this with you in person. But Scott says you won’t make it out before the barbecue?”
With Mia’s deadline moved up, I’m leaving my weekends free for trope tests. “Probably not.”
“All right, well if you find yourself with a free day, come on out. Brett learned how to cast, and he’s been out to the lake every morning, catching us supper.”
