“I’ll come with you,” she replies eagerly. “We could make a weekend of it.”
“That would be fun. Can you get the time off?”
At the reminder of her job, her mood takes a nosedive. “Probably not, actually. We’ve got weddings back-to-back for the rest of August.”
“Do you not like organizing weddings?” I ask with concern.
“I do, but every single event I plan takes place at the golf club, so it’s all a bit repetitive. My work was much more varied when I was at an agency.”
“There are no event-planning agencies in town?”
She gives me a wry grin. “What do you think? The golf club is literally the only place anyone ever does anything major.Birthday parties, retirement parties, funeral wakes... Golf club. The people in this town are seriously lacking in imagination.”
“We could go shopping on a weekday?” I revert to our plans. “It doesn’t matter when I put the hours in, as long as I do.”
“A weekday would be great! How about this Thursday? If we go to Bloomington, I could ask my friend Tyler if we can crash at her place.”
“Let’s do it!”
It’s another hot day, but the humidity is low, so it’s not as unbearable as it has been over the last week or so. I’ve been finding myself longing for a thunderstorm, one that sends lightning spearing across the sky and rain crashing down with a vengeance, but I don’t know if that sort of weather would harm the Fredrickson crops, so I haven’t wished for it too hard.
“How are you feeling about Scott today?” Bailey asks as we set off down the track toward the farm.
“Better,” I reply.
I messaged him last week to let him know I was staying in Indiana.
That’s great!he replied, which irritated the hell out of me for some reason.Do you need me to go to the house? Pay any bills? Water the plants?
No, Mum’s doing it.
Cool. Let me know if you want me to handle anything else.
I found his enthusiasm patronizing, but when I told Bailey about it last night, she convinced me it wasn’t.
“You guys have got history, and it’s not like you hated each other before you split up. I bet he misses you. He’d probably love to stay friends.”
“Fat chance,” I muttered.
We were only two drinks in at the time, but as the night wore on, with Bailey’s words running around my head, I started to think about how much he’d enjoy hearing about the Airstream renovation.
When I admitted to Bailey that I was pondering what she said, she encouraged me to send him a picture of Bambi, just to open up a lighter line of communication.
I don’t know if we could ever be friends, but could we be friendly?
I’m still thinking on it.
The red barn looms in the distance and then the cornfield on our right ends abruptly, revealing the house set back from the track. Goose bumps break out over my skin at the sight of Anders’s BMW parked on the driveway. I hate that I’m affected by seeing him again.
When I fall, I tend to fall hard, and the last thing I need right now is unrequited feelings for a man who’s still suffering from the loss of his wife. I give myself an internal pep talk as we walk up the path to the front door and knock.
There’s no answer.
I knock louder.
Still no answer.
“Is that music?” Bailey asks as I get out my phone.
