Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
“So are you both. Rachel’s already planning to add a tofurkey for your mom to our annual Thanksgiving dinner. And I’m counting on your help for the pumpkin event in October.” More future looking. It was good. Healthy for us both, and every time I thought about Harrison joining us for the holidays, my shoulders lifted.
“Look at us. Making plans.” Harrison sounded both amazed and pleased.
“Look at you.” I glanced over at him as I slowed for a stop sign. “Soon, you’ll be booking stuff for the next Pride.”
He smirked at me. “Already done.”
“I’m going to have to do something about that smug look later,” I threatened before moving through the intersection.
“I’m counting on it.”
“If you’re up to it, I mean,” I corrected myself, even though he’d seemed eager enough. I didn’t want to be pressure he didn’t need.
“Oh, I’m up. Haven’t needed the med all week.”
After giving his heart the all-clear, the doctor in Boston had referred Harrison to a local psych nurse practitioner who had him on a low-dose medication as needed for anxiety. It seemed to be helping, but sometimes it made him extra sleepy, which was fine. More cuddling for me.
“I’m glad you’ve got it, though.” The scenery we passed gave hints that summer was starting to turn into fall, little flashes of color here and there, signs for late-season veggies and early-season apples going up.
“Me too. It was the right call.” Harrison’s tone was decisive. “And I’ve got you too. You help as well.”
“You’ve got me,” I promised and meant it. Anything that helped him feel better and more secure was a good thing in my book.
The rest of the drive to the rice farm passed quickly as Harrison told me all about a new shipment of books and the exploits of his group of clerks, most of whom had far more exciting social lives than either of us.
At the rice farm, my friend Deanna met us and showed us to the ducks that her interns had already started rounding up. I put on hip waders to help fetch more. Meanwhile, Harrison marveled at the ducks as we loaded them up into the trailer.
“Oh my! You weren’t kidding about them getting bigger.”
“Yep. And we had a bumper crop this year,” Deanna added. “Hope you need rice for winter.”
“Of course. Mom won’t use anything other than your brand now.” I moved so the interns could load up a few more ducks. Reaching back into the truck, I retrieved a large wicker basket. “Harvest has been good to us too. I brought you some tomatoes and onions and whatever else Rachel and Mom stashed in your basket.”
“Lovely.” Deanna took the heavy basket from me. “I’ll take this up to the house while you finish loading up.”
“Sounds good.”
It didn’t take too much longer before all the ducks were located and the trailer was full of flapping, less-than-happy birds.
“That should do it.” The light was starting to shift, dancing off the rice paddies, making the trees in the distance glimmer, and casting Deanna’s farmhouse in an early evening glow that looked like something off a Vermont postcard.
“Finn?” Harrison paused by the side of the truck.
“Yeah?” I looked up from checking all the connection points and hatches.
“Thanks for inviting me along.” Harrison nodded solemnly as he held my gaze. “This is a good day.”
“They’re all good with you, but I know what you mean.” Our eyes stayed locked, the moment stretching out.
I’d made this drive dozens of times, wrangled ducks more times than I could count, and knew this truck like an old friend, but it all seemed new and perfect with Harrison by my side. And suddenly, the weird block I’d had for weeks slid away, and I knew exactly what to say. “I love you.”
Harrison blinked and adjusted his glasses. “Because I helped with the ducks?”
“No. I mean, that was nice.” I laughed as I touched his arm. “But I love you.”
“Oh.” His eyes went soft and pleased, as if he’d been waiting for me to say it first. And he probably had. Like how I didn’t like to pressure him with certain expectations, I knew he felt similarly about emotional stuff.
“I’ve been wanting to say it. But timing…” I made a vague gesture, trying to encompass all my internal waffling. “Didn’t want to do it in bed. Or around others. Or—”
“Which of us is supposed to be the worrywart?” Harrison moved close enough to brush a kiss over my cheek.
“I wanted to get it right. This is important.”
“It is.” His hands were tender as he brought our faces together, millimeters from a kiss. “I love you too.”
My exhale echoed across the whole field. Not that I’d truly worried, but… Okay. I’d worried. A little.
“Good.” I closed the tiny gap between us, claiming his mouth right there, truck full of ducks as witness to a moment I wasn’t soon going to forget. It started sweet and slow, but like always, soon it was hot and urgent.