Why would I still be here after Peanut's born?
You can come back.
For what reason?
The conversation is one I don't want to have, even in the quiet.Even when it's not real. I don't want to face the eventual end of my time in Olive Township. Here at Summerhill. Everyday I've napped in the swing bed on Hugo's porch, and gone on a long walk in the late afternoon, soaking up the sun and the surroundings. Hugo has been so busy, and I don't want to interrupt him while he's working, so I stay away from the office where I know he goes every morning. I focus on what I can see, and it's enough. The view takes my breath away and soothes thesavage beast within, the one that guards my heart holding a banner that readsIt's your fault.
Out here, in a place so beautiful, in a home so cozy, with a man so kind, I consider forgiving my fourteen-year-old self. It's difficult, and I'm not there yet, but the fact I am considering it feels momentous.
"I'd like that," I answer, accepting his offer for a future outing for sushi. We don't need to talk about my departure. If Hugo wants to make a plan, far be it for me to rain on his parade.
By the time Peanut's born, I should be long gone. I don't really know why I'm here now. Planning for podcast episodes can happen anywhere, and I tell myself I'm here to keep interviewing, keep digging, but is that true? Olive Township is a couple hours from Phoenix. If I had an idea and wanted to talk to people, it would only be a day trip for me to do so.
So why am I still here? Let's call a spade a spade. I'm here because I don't want to go.
Eventually, I'll have to. My recording equipment is in Phoenix. Maybe I can push that aside for now. Pretend it doesn't exist. Live here, in this moment, on this heavenly olive mill, where the sun feels extra sunny, and the birdsong is sweeter.
We finish our lunch in a companionable silence, and Hugo clears our plates.
"What do you think about taking a tour of the mill tomorrow?" he asks when he's standing by the front door fitting his feet into his work boots.
"Yes, please." I clap my hands together excitedly. "Ihave to warn you, I'm already in love with this place. After tomorrow, it might escalate to an obsession."
Hugo looks like the idea of this makes him happy. "Then there is probably something I should warn you about also."
"What's that?"
"It's likely I'm going to nerd out really hard about olives."
I laugh. "Uh-oh. Nerd alert."
Hugo offers me the sexiest grin. He snags a ball cap from a peg near the door, performing a move that sends a tingle to the top of my thighs.
He puts it on backwards.
I look away. I have to. I can't be held responsible for what happens next if I allow my eyes to continue to drink him in. I look at my toes instead. I could really use a pedicure.
"I'll see you for dinner," he says.
"Mm-hmm. Yeah. Sounds great," I manage, forcing my gaze up so I don't arouse suspicion.
Too late. His eyebrows pinch in the center. "I hope your meeting with the marketing company goes well."
My heart lurches. He remembered. We hadn't even talked about it this morning. The last time I mentioned it was yesterday when he came back for lunch.
"Thank you," I say, doing my best to only look in his eyes. The way he did for me when my breasts were covered by little in that dressing room.
With a dip of his head he retreats from his house. I watch him through the front window. Long-legged stride,confident. Returning to finish out his day on an orchard he loves. The same land his dad tended. And his dad before that, if what I read online is correct.
Hugo climbs into his company truck, turning back to glance at his house. He catches my gaze in the window. I've been caught staring.
I raise a hand, waving. He does the same, adding his crooked grin. The combination is lethal.
He's a backwards-hat wearing, lower back touching, doorframe gripping, sword wielding owner of an olive orchard.
My next thought is a sucker punch to the solar plexus.
Some day, some other woman is going to strike gold with him.
