Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I clapped a hand over my mouth to try and hold back the snort. “No, honey,” I said. “Not mine. Not by a long shot.”
Was I just imagining his sigh of relief?
He nodded and turned back to Ava. “Are you okay? I mean… I don’t want to pry, but… do you need anything, or…?”
Paul stopped fussing with the napkins and glanced up at Brooks. “She’s fine. More than fine. She’s gorgeous. Look at her. She’s strong, and healthy, and—” He seemed to realize what he was saying because he stopped suddenly with a slight gasp. “It’s none of our business.”
Ava softened like butter left in the summer sun. “I’m good, actually. I was scared at first, but now… now I think it’s going to be okay.” She took a deep breath. “I haven’t told my family yet, though, so you can’t say anything.”
Brooks shook his head. “No, no. Of course not. Never. It’s your story to tell. And Paul is right. It’s none of my business anyway. But, you know you can come to me for anything, don’t you? If you need help, or… anything at all.”
She smiled at him. “Well, if you truly mean it… I was hoping you might be willing to marry me and help out, just… just until the baby turns five and starts school.”
We all stared at her like she was now the bomb and it had suddenly, terribly detonated all over us.
“What?” Paul squawked. “Him?”
Ava started giggling before pointing at Brooks. “Your face. Oh my God, you should have seen your face. Why didn’t I think to grab my camera? Priceless.”
My heart almost skittered out of my chest and landed in a splat on the vodka-soaked ground.
I turned to Brooks. “By any chance do you have one of those Fuzzy things that’s nothing but straight vodka?”
11
Brooks
“Tell me again why we had to come tonight?” Paul asked as he parked my car in the little lot beside Henson’s Grocery and walked across the street. “Because I have some concerns.”
“Because it’s tradition,” I replied, categorically refusing to be concerned about anything. “It’s gonna be great.”
This day had already been great, one of the best I’d ever had in Licking Thicket, and I was already a little bit drunk on good feelings and a couple of Fuzzy Thickets. I’d come to the Thicket expecting all the things I’d hated about this town to be exactly the same, but I’d been wrong. Seeing folks appreciate Mal and the other artisans and craftspeople at the fair had been eye-opening, and judging the ice cream eating contest—a Head Licker task I’d been dreading—had proved beyond a doubt this place had changed in the years I’d been gone, just like I had.
There had been ninety-seven kids lined up at two long tables to take part, and I’d been pleasantly surprised—shocked—by the diversity they represented. Turned out, according to my mom’s whispered explanation, a giant tech company had bought a big plot of land that used to be the old Easton farm and had built a campus there, drawing people from all over the world.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I’d asked her.
She’d shrugged. “Well, honey, I suppose I figured if it mattered to you one way or the other, you’d’ve come home to see for yourself.”
I’d had no reply to that, so she’d patted me on the arm and walked away to make sure all ninety-seven kids had plenty of ice cream—including dairy-free varieties, for those who didn’t drink milk—proving that the shit I had actually missed about this place, the community spirit and the feeling of being a part of something bigger, hadn’t changed at all.
I took a deep breath of the sweet evening air, smoothed down my Head Licker T-shirt, and twitched my shorts so the hem hung straight. I’d insisted on going home to shower before coming out, telling Paul I was covered in melted ice cream, but that was only part of the reason. I’d also been covered in layers of dried sweat after an afternoon in the sun, and if I was gonna be with Mal at the bar tonight, I wanted to smell more like Creed Aventus and less like Essence of Brooks.
I mean, not that I was going to be with Mal, obviously. Definitely not when I had a “boyfriend” and he had Ava. But the way he’d shot me little smiles all afternoon when he didn’t know I was looking had made my toes curl in my shoes, and—
“Hello? Earth to Johnson? Concerns? Which I have? And expect you to reassure me about?”
I blinked at Paul, who was waving a hand in front of my face. “Huh?”
He huffed out a breath and grabbed me by the shoulders on the sidewalk outside the bar. “Okay, I say this with love, as the sexiest, straightest, soon-to-be former-ex-boyfriend you’ve never had—”