Page 74 of Love is an Open Book
“We’re spending a few days in the city,” Scott says. “Met up with one of Amber’s friends and her family. Thought this would be a fun outing for the kids.”
“A wine tasting?” I don’t mean to sound sarcastic, but I’m shocked to see them here, of all places. Especially when I haven’t spoken to him since the baseball game.
He points back toward the front. “They have a children’s garden. We didn’t realize there’d be a special event.”
Amber comes back, a little breathless, my nephews trailing behind. “Sorry. The boys had cotton candy and shared a cupcake. They’re wired.” Her phone chimes and she checks it. “My friend’s kids finally made it to the front of the face-painting line,” she says. “We’d better go, but we’ll catch up next week, yes?” The end-of-summer barbecue. Hard to believe it’s already August. “Great to see you, Mia. Can’t wait for your latest. Victor and Sydney are my favorites.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Mia stiffen, but she pastes on a big smile. “Thanks, Amber.”
Scott waves, his expression neutral, but I can see the wheels turning. “See you at the cookout.”
The boys are already off and running, and they hurry to catch up.
Watching them go, Mia frowns. “What’s going on with you and Scott?”
“Besides that he’s pissed I don’t want to take over for Dad?”
“But he barely spoke to me. What do I have to do with it?” Her eyes widen. “He thinks I’m pushing you to stay, doesn’t he?”
I shake my head, though she’s not far off.
“Then what? Because ‘Gavin’s friend from college’?” Shemakes air quotes. “I see them every summer. I’ve done virtual author visits with Amber’s book club.”
“I know. He’s...” I didn’t want to tell her this. “He doesn’t think you’re trying to get me to stay. But he does think you’re the reason I don’t want to leave.”
Understanding dawns on her face. “So he thinks something’s going on between us, and running into us like this justifies all his assumptions.” Her fingers are pressed to her temples, like she’s warding off a headache. “If he thinks I’m the reason you’re turning down the farm, he’ll resent me forever.”
“So what?”
“So what?” Her brows go up, and so does her pitch. “That’s your brother. And you think he won’t mention this to your dad? Can’t you see how I would be the bad guy? How would they ever be okay with our relationship if they thought I’d kept you from taking over the farm?”
Dad would never, but Scott... “I thought we weren’t thinking about the future.”
“Of course I am,” she says. “I just didn’t want to put a label on this too early.” Her lips press into a thin line, and she looks off in the direction Scott’s family left, brows furrowed.
“What if I do end up taking over the farm?” I haven’t considered it. Not truly. But would I do it to keep the heat off Mia? Maybe.
“Then I’d worry you did it for me, just so they couldn’t accuse me of keeping you from it.”
“So there’s no way to win.” I blow out a breath, wondering how we’ve gone from the perfect evening to this. Except I know how. If I’d been honest with Scott and Dad about my reasons for staying away, none of this would’ve fallen out on Mia.
She runs a hand over her head, dislodging the sprigs of lavender. “I don’t know, Gavin.”
“It’s just Scott. He’ll come around.”
She lets out a breath. “I told you this would be messy.”
“But maybe me moving would be like adopting the kittens.” She looks at me questioningly, and I explain, “I didn’t want to bring them home, but I don’t regret it. Maybe it would be the same with taking over for Dad. Not exactly what I planned, but good.”
She looks unconvinced. “Good enough?”
Everywhere I turn, it’s the same question. I thought I had the answer. Then I got a taste of life with Mia, and I know for certain I can never settle for second best again.
Twenty-Five
Mia
Sera and Joe’s backyard is decked out in shades of green, with sage lanterns in the trees and mint-green tablecloths topped by fern centerpieces. I wish I could say I had a hand in how beautifully the decor turned out, but after Sera found out about my new deadline, she forbade me from coming early to set up.
