Tillie and April knew Nora better than anyone, and their assurance that he was on the right track boosted J.P.’s resolve. It was the shot in the arm he needed to see this project through to completion, and their help with the physical labor was the icing on the cake.
“What color would you like this particular tulip?” April pushed her ginger ringlets off her forehead with the tip of the paintbrush handle. “I’m thinking fuchsia. Or maybe salmon. I can’t decide. Do we have too much pink already?”
“Go with your gut,” Tillie piped up from behind the wooden sunflower she currently coated a brilliant lemon yellow. “You’re the queen of color.”
“Nope, Nora’s the queen,” April corrected. “Queen bee, that is.”
“J.P., you know you’re going to need to find a crown for Nora, right?” Tillie slathered the thick paint onto the last petal, then moved to the next oversized flower in the row of bare wood blooms still left to be painted.
J.P.’s hammer came down on a board. “A crown?”
“I mean, you ordered all of those adorable antennae for the kiddos that visit the face painting booth. I think it’s only fitting that Nora has a little ornamentation too.”
He grinned at the suggestion, something he never would have thought of on his own. “I’ll see what I can round up.”
“Leave it to me,” April instructed with a little flick of her paintbrush. Droplets of wet paint splattered onto the ground like a spray from a sprinkler. “I’ll find something perfect.”
J.P. didn’t doubt it. While Tillie was helpful with the grunt work portion of the construction project—incredibly useful and skilled with a hammer and nail—April possessed the creative prowess J.P. had lacked. His chicken scratch plans transformed into a beautiful watercolor illustration once April got her hands on them. And with the three people working diligently side by side, the booth took shape in record time. Come late afternoon, the project was entirely finished, save for a few details and minor touch-ups he would tackle once the booth was in place at the fairgrounds.
“When’s the big reveal?” Tillie passed the paintbrush under the garden hose until the vivid colors gradually diluted and the water ran clear. She dropped the brush into a tin bucket of cleaned ones.
“I was thinking at the summer festival when all the other booths go up.” He shrugged as the words came out, unintentionally conveying his lack of confidence.
A look passed between Tillie and April, some disapproving code that J.P. could easily interpret. They hated the idea.
“Or maybe sooner than that?” he amended.
“The Sunshine Days Summer Festival is still a few days away.” Tillie chucked another brush into the pail. “You’ve already gone how long without talking to her?”
Toolong.
“I agree with Tillie.” April smoothed her palms down the front of her dress and slipped her hands into the deep pockets below her waistline. “I think it’s time.”
They were right. He had drawn out this intentional evasion as long as he could, probably much longer than he should have. Even if his heart didn’t feel entirely ready, everything else was.
“Today?”
Their heads lifted in a synchronized nod.
“That’s better,” Tillie stated, and April agreed.
“What if she hates it?” J.P.’s stomach roiled as he confessed his insecurity.
“She won’t hate it,” April guaranteed. A reassuring hand landed on J.P.’s forearm and gave a gentle pat. “You’ve thought of everything. She’s going to love it.”
He tried to let those words convert his uncertainty into confidence. But the more his thoughts drifted toward finally filling Nora in on the true reason for all the avoidance, the less sure he felt. What if her frustration over being outright ignored overruled her excitement about the booth? J.P. had put all of his eggs in one very precarious basket, and he had a sneaking suspicion everything was about to crack.
Tillie had said herself that Nora didn’t like surprises. And did this even need to be one? When it came down to it, he could have told Nora about his plans from the get-go. She could have even workedwithhim to construct the booth together as the team they were meant to be. His reasoning seemed strong in the beginning, but the longer they went without contact and communication, it did a number on his confidence.
J.P. had effectively talkedhimself out of and finally back into going through with it, no looking back.
He didn’t text. He didn’t call. He just drove straight to her farmhouse, marched up the porch steps, and stood in front of her door. The next thing that should follow was a knock, but he couldn’t bring his hand to form the fist. His throat scratched with every swallow and it felt like the porch itself was closing in around him. He had to shake free from this fear that she wouldn’t answer, or worse, that she would answer, only to slam the door in his face.
Why did the thought of rejection scare him so much? It was no secret that he’d been rejected before, and in the worst possible way. Still, the thought of Nora doing the same cut deeper, hurt more intensely.
Was it possible that he felt more for Nora in the short time they’d known each other than he had for Kenzie, the woman he’d almost pledged his life to?
That was the crux of it all. J.P. wasn’t terrified of losing a woman again. He was terrified of losing thisparticularwoman. He couldn’t lose Nora.
