Page 85 of There's Pumpkin About You
I ignore him and continue watching Wren rearrange some of the flowers for the fourteenth time since guests started to arrive.
“So, what happens next?” Bash asks after a few minutes.
“Wren said they’re going to cut the cake soon, I think. I’m not entirely sure. Either that or speeches.”
“That’s not what I meant, Auggie.”
“What are you talking about then?” I ask, confused.
“I’m talking about you and Wren. What happens now for the two of you? Have you discussed how you’ll go on after Wren stops coming here?”
That pulls me away from watching Wren adjust a pumpkin on one of the tables. “What do you mean when she stops coming here?”
Bash’s eyebrows dip as if the notion is seemingly an obvious one. “Auggie, you guys have completed what you set out to do. The harvest is over, Wren’s party is underway, and the barn is complete. After today, Wren has no reason to bring us coffee every morning, or come to the farm every day. Eventually, she’ll get another job and we don’t know what town that will be in. What if the next one is in Liliton? She’ll have to go there each day instead.”
Fuck. I never even thought of that.
Dread inserts itself into my veins as I replay Bash’s words in my head. What if she does get another event in one of the other towns? What then? I own a business where I need to be physically present, I can’t afford to come and see her every day like she’s been doing for me. What happens to the morning coffees, the tension-filled arguments, the sexual tension? You’re telling me it all just… stops?
Besides, Bash says she won’t have a reason to come by anymore. So, am I not reason enough?
“Of course you’re reason enough, Auggie,” Bash answers, making me realize that I’ve just spoken out loud. “Gus, that girl likes you. A lot. All I’m saying is that it might be easier to talk to her about what happens from here on out. Make a plan so that you know what happens moving forward and can find peace in the knowledge that there’s no ‘what ifs’?”
But what if there are still “what ifs”? What if after talking, there’s still a day unaccounted for, or a last-minute change of plan when one realizes that they still have work to do? Me, I plan my day down to the minute. I know where I’ll be at every second of the day, and I always have. Wren, however, is a force of nature. She’s a tornado that’s swept through my life, with no concern for any structure I already had in my life. Would she even be able to live my way? Would she be able to understand that I need things in order, which could in turn have an impact on her life as well as mine?
“Okay, so then how do I?—”
“You got this. I’ll be right back.”
Bash sprints off towards the side door to the barn, looking like a thief in the night. I stare after him confused. That is, until a familiar voice says, “Hey, Gus.”
Holy shit.
Raven Thomas. The woman Bash let slip through his fingers.
She looks exactly the same as the last time I saw her—hair that’s the same color as her namesake, startling blue eyes and skin as light as porcelain.
“Hi, Ray. Long time no see.”
“Yeah, it’s been a hot minute.” She looks uncomfortable as she looks to the door Bash fled from. “Have you seen Seb?”
“He ran out of that door,” I tell her, pointing towards the side door.
She huffs out a laugh. “You always were honest.”
“And he always was stupid. If you’ll excuse me.”
As much as I would usually revel in fate throwing Bash a grenade when he’s constantly been teasing me about Wren, I really don’t have the time. Not when my brain is running at a million miles an hour, trying to make sense of his words. Not when I have a million questions sitting on my tongue.
I keep Wren in my sights as I make my way towards her, sticking to the edges of the barn so as to avoid the crowd. Her back is to me by the time I’m all but two steps away. She’s in the middle of a conversation with identical twin girls, both of whom look as if they’re pleading with her.
“Please, Wren. You have to plan our gala for us. It’s the week before Thanksgiving. We need you. Only the best could pull off a party like this in such a short space of time.”
I was about to interrupt, but now I’m listening intently whilst hidden in the shadows. I wait impatiently for Wren’s response. How convenient for her to be talking about the exact thing I wanted to discuss with her.
“I don’t know,” Wren mumbles.
“Pleeeeease! You can even name your price! We have quite the high-end guest list, half of which are always looking to host some kind of event. It’s the beauty of working in fashion. Plan this party for us and you’ll be booked up until the end of next year, easy.”
