Page 97 of Wood Riddance
My girl. Though I figured I’d better stick withmy woman. If she knew I’d referred to her as a girl, even in my mind, she’d kick my ass into next week. And as much as I’d enjoy that, I couldn’t risk ruining my romantic weekend.
“Tell me, Finn.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, She-Ra. Sit back and enjoy the ride.”
I’d thrown the trip together at the last minute, but every aspect was coming together perfectly.
We cruised south down I-95, enjoying the glorious August sunshine and listening toThe Naturalist, a Theodore Roosevelt biography I downloaded for the trip. Adele looked beautiful. She wore red sunglasses and had her hair pulled up in a ponytail that listed to one side as she reclined in the seat and listened raptly to an anecdote about the formation of the National Parks Service. She was wearing a sundress. It was the last item of clothing I expected her to even own, but holy shit, was it the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. It was blue and plaid, and it had thin straps that showed off her collarbones and shoulders. It flared out at the waist and fell to her knees. The moment she stepped out onto her porch wearing it, I wanted to crawl under that skirt and live there.
I had this goddess of a woman all to myself for the next forty-eight hours. If I was really lucky, we’d have a great time and also have a real conversation about what was going on between us and how we should proceed going forward.
Because despite declaring herself to be mine, we still hadn’t defined the parameters of our relationship. And that made my chest ache. I would proudly wear any label she’d give me. But this was not a situationship. It was not casual. And it sure as hell was not friends with benefits.
But Adele was not the kind of person to be forced into a conversation. So I was taking her away to a place where we didn’t have to hide a damn thing from anyone. And where, hopefully, we could figure out what our future would look like.
When we finally picked up Route 1, which hugged the entire Maine coast up to New Brunswick, she sat up a bit straighter.
“Are we going where I think we’re going?” She slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose and raised one eyebrow at me.
I nodded. “It’s not Glacier. Not yet. But I figured we should start visiting together. A new tradition.”
We crossed the bridge onto Mt. Desert Island, admiring the swells of the ocean on either side of us and the vast mountains ahead. Acadia National Park was the first national park established east of the Mississippi River and one of my all-time favorite places. My mom had brought us here one summer when I was in grade school, and it was where my love affair with national parks began.
Adele practically bounced in her seat as we got closer. “I love it here so much. Can we get popovers at the Jordan Pond House?”
“Of course.”
“And see the sunrise on Cadillac Mountain?”
“Definitely.”
“Where are we staying?”
I gave her a wink. “Another surprise. Stay put. We’re almost there.”
We cruised through the picturesque town of Bar Harbor, past the park entrance, and toward the southwest tip to a tiny village called Seal Harbor.
There, I turned onto a dirt road and drove up a large wooded hill into a clearing.
“Are you shitting me?” Adele squealed as a shiny vintage Airstream came into view. The deck built into its side was strung with lights and housed two bright pink Adirondack chairs. The surrounding area was filled with colorful wildflowers that flanked the path to the forest. “This is insane.” Adele threw the door open before I had the transmission shifted into park. Then she was spinning, taking in every inch of the space.
While I wrestled the keys out of the lockbox, she snapped photos of the clearing and the Airstream and the trees surrounding us.
Once inside, she was downright giddy. “Finn,” she gushed, as she took in every detail. From the white wooden cabinets to the apron sink to the blue velvet couch and gingham curtains on the windows.
While she gleefully inspected every detail, I grabbed our bags from the truck and hauled them in.
I had barely gotten them through the tiny door before she was launching herself at me, throwing her arms around my neck, and kissing me senseless.
“Thank you.”
I wrapped my arms around her once I’d rid myself of our luggage, loving the way she melted into me. Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply and soaked up this moment. So often, I focused on what was missing from my life. In a perfect world, I could take this woman to far nicer places than an old Airstream, but this was the best I could do right now. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to mind one bit.
She pulled back. “It’s perfect. Wait. Can you even stand up straight in here?”
I shrugged.
“Oh no,” she cried, spinning one way, then the other. “You’re all hunched over. You can barely fit your shoulders through the door.”
