“Please. I think I remember you using those exact words before I finished half a bottle of tequila and streaked across one of the Campbell’s fields.”
Wren’s brother Chris throws his head back and starts howling at the memory I kept tightly tucked away. “I remember that,” he says, almost out of breath. “You couldn’t look at me without turning red for almost a month.”
My jaw tightens and I grit my teeth. “Maybe if someone didn’t think it would be funny to pull out the spotlight!”
The smell of freshly cut grass mingled with the sugary scent of buttercream frosting fills the air of the Campbell farm’s backyard. String lights hovered above the smallgathering, their soft glow reflecting off the faces of all those near and dear to me.
Chris smiles and slaps his knee. “Calm down, Emma. We’ve all done stupid shit after one too many drinks.”
My mind is pulled back to all the memories I’ve created with the people surrounding me. We have done a lot of stupid shit over the years, but we never judged each other. They were constantly supporting me no matter what, and that’s why I throw my hands up in defeat and let the bitter taste of vodka coat my throat.
The group cheers and Blake slaps his hand on my shoulder. “There you go! See, that wasn’t so bad.”
My lips wrinkle into a grimace and I search the picnic table for anything to cover up the taste. When I come up empty, I excuse myself and head to the coolers lining the porch to find a water. I should stick to wine.
My attention is quickly diverted as Milo zooms past me. His tiny hands clutch onto my graduation cap, which he insisted on wearing after my ceremony. At the ripe age of three, he was a man of few words, but I could tell he was proud of me.
I let out a small laugh and shake my head. The sound is foreign—soft and unguarded. I didn’t feel this lightness in my chest nearly a year ago.
Not far behind Milo is Henry, who keels over with his hands pressed to his knees. When his eyes meet mine, it feels like that first night all over again. A fluttering sensation spreads throughout my body, culminating in a warm feeling at my core.
“You have no idea how much energy that kid has,” Henry says, struggling to catch his breath.
“I’ve been living with it for three years now,” I respond, handing him a cold water.
“Gracias,Pajarito,” he says, giving me a kiss on the cheek before taking the water from my hands.
“You’re welcome, honey.”
Henry pulls his head back, and he looks down at me. I reach out and adjust his glasses before they fall to the brim of his nose. It was a habit I’d picked up around him. It is also just an excuse to touch him.
“Try again,mi amor. That is an easy one,” he says, rolling his “r.” Henry was slowly starting to teach me Spanish, and I loved getting to know a whole new side of him. When we visited his mom and stepmom over Christmas, I was welcomed into their family with open arms. Being part of the family meant learning Spanish and eating way too much, which was seemingly my favorite part about visiting his moms.
“De nada cariño,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Muy bueno, Pajarito. See, I told you you’d get it.”
It’s been a few months since Henry returned to Honey Grove full-time. After finishing his ghostwriting contract, he fired Jen as his agent and decided he was ready to leave New York for good. After visiting him a few times, I was glad he made that decision. I would’ve moved for him, but I preferred the calming pace of small-town life.
Now, Henry was living with Milo and me, and his dad was letting us use the upstairs apartment when we needed it. He even got a new position as a faculty member at one of the colleges nearby. Everything was falling into place.
“Have you told anyone about grad school yet?” he asks, his eyes drifting over to the table full of my friends and family. “Guidance Counselor Emma has a pretty nice ring to it.”
I roll my eyes, knowing the kids won’t call me that. “No, but I will. I’m too afraid they’ll throw me another one of these,” I joke, gesturing to the banner that saysCongratulations, Emmasprawled out in messy cursive.
“They love you,” Henry says, pulling me into his chest.
“Don’t act like you weren’t in on it,” I mumble into thisshirt. He’s the one who gave me a heart attack when he told me Wren fell off of a hay wagon. I should’ve known better.
“Lo siento mi amor. Let me make it up to you. Do you think you can sneak away for a few minutes?”
I pull my head away from his chest and raise my eyebrows, questioning his motive. “Not for that. Get your head out of the gutter,” he laughs.
A light pink blush dusts my cheeks. I shake my head and let him pull toward his car on the other side of the driveway. My head spins with all of the possibilities. I was good on surprises for the rest of the day, but I’m sure one more wouldn’t hurt.
When we get to the car, he pops open the trunk and pulls out a rectangular package wrapped in brown paper.
Henry lifts the package in front of my eyes, and I see my name written across. My fingers tremble as I take it from him, unwrapping it carefully. Inside is a thick stack of papers, and the first page has a title. It reads:Lovesick by Henry Castillo.
