“That is true.” I look down at my cleavage and give it a shake.
“Come on. Let’s finish up this bed and then I have some berry tarts waiting in the kitchen. Then I can break the real tricky news to you.”
“What’s that?”
“When you do start something new, I think you should tell Josh’s family.”
“Ugh, Ebie come on,” I groan, using her childhood nickname. “I know you’re right, but come on.”
“Brook.”
“I know.”
“He was a piece of crap. I will never make excuses for him, but his family really welcomed us. Especially when they found out about Mom and Dad. Those white people were ready to take us Lewis girls in. I don’t think youowe them,owe them, but tell them. Let them know you’ve found love. I think they want you to be happy too.”
“With two dudes.”
“Listen, Mr. Delinsky is a fucking hippie. He might be into that shit.”
“You’re right. I’ll tell them if Vaughn and Shaw take me back. Or take me for real in the first place.”
“One step at the time,” Liz says with a wink. We finish making the bed and I get into my pajamas before we head back to the kitchen and stuff ourselves with berry tarts and fresh lemonade. Whatever happens down the road, I am grateful for my sister and her baking ass. Spending the weekend with her, Silas and the girls is exactly what I need. It’ll give me time to decide if I want to take the biggest risk of my life and really chase after love.
Twenty-One
Shaw
We stop at a light. First light I’ve seen in this tiny-ass town. I have no idea how the hell Brook’s sister is from the Bronx and is now living way the hell out here. I thought Barnstable was rural.
I look over at Vaughn and he just smiles and shakes his head.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Look, I might be driving, but I didn’t make this decision by myself. She called and we both jumped at the chance to see her.”
“I know. I think we’re both pathetic. We didn’t even make it the whole weekend.” Brooklyn called us back Friday afternoon. She was close to tears and extremely apologetic, but she’d managed to keep it together while she spoke. She had more to tell us. She wanted to see us again. She wanted to talk. Just to talk, though. No sex, just talking. After a quick look at the map, we saw it actually made more sense for us to go to her sister’s farm in Ghent, New York, instead of waiting until the following weekend for her to drive all the way out to my place. It was closer and if Vaughn and I weren’t bullshitting, we didn’t want to wait to see her either. If she was in Ghent, that’s where we were going first thing Sunday morning.
I follow the GPS route through a town center that looks like some shit out of a movie and we keep going, past a rundown gas station and on into this area that looks like it's all farms. Just apple farm after apple farm. Finally, we reach our destination, McInroy Farm.
We follow Brook’s additional directions and drive past the big apple sign and the cafe, and head a couple hundred yards to a private, unmarked driveway. We continue down the long dirt road and, soon enough, we see a little pond with some trees and a picnic table. We see the big white farmhouse she’d mentioned further down the road, but Brook is sitting on the picnic table in the shade. Waiting for us. There are two dogs sniffing through the grass around her.
Brook perks up as we get closer. She’s wearing her hair in this long, silky style that goes down her back and a pink sundress that is doing nothing to contain her amazing tits. I try to push down the way I feel about seeing her again. I’ll get excited if this turns out to not be another conversation that leaves me or Vaughn looking like assholes. I park the car in a little clearing and cut the ignition.
“You ready?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s get this over with. I can get home to get some FIFA action.”
“Shut up,” Vaughn laughs. He knows I’m not rushing out of here. We climb out of the car and one of the dogs, a white pit bull, comes rushing over to us. Before I have to dropkick it, though, it stops short and cocks its head before running back to Brook.
“That’s Morty. He’s harmless. The golden is Dirt.”
“Who named that dog Dirt?” I ask.
“My niece, when she was four. Her dad thinks it’s hilarious. So, he’s still Dirt.” She climbs off the picnic table and walks closer to us, but stops herself before she gets too close. “Glad you guys could make it. Welcome to the farm.”
