Headlights sweep across the trees and bounce off the barn. I spot the light just before I hear tires pound into a pothole in the driveway. I set my beer down and stop moving, waiting to see if I need to jump up and get protection from inside the front door. But just as I start to stand, I recognize the vehicle.
Mira.
She pulls up beside my truck and climbs out.
I take a shaky breath. I’m not sure if she sees me or not, and I don’t want to scare her. “What are you doing out here?” I ask, so she knows I’m here.
She comes up the steps and stops at the edge of the porch. Her hair is in a braid over her shoulder. There’s a rosiness in hercheeks that happens when she’s extra tired, and I wonder if she’s wrestled with sleep like I have tonight.
Her eyes are wary as she searches mine. “I came to see Pigasso.”
“At two in the morning?” I ask, grinning.
A slow smile touches her lips as she sits on the floor with her bare feet on the steps.
I stand, the swing creaking as I move. “If you’re going to stick around, sit up here.”
“I’m fine.”
“The concrete is cold,” I say, motioning to the swing. I’d sit with her, but I have a feeling she needs space. “Seriously. Get up there.”
She makes a face as she gets to her feet, flashing me a grin in the process. “See? This is why we can’t get married. You already think you can give me orders.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s the reason we can’t get married.”
She slowly lowers herself onto the swing. I duck inside the house and grab a throw blanket from a basket Cathy keeps by the door.
“Here,” I say, handing it to Mira.
As she takes it, our fingers touch. It’s the slightest contact—the briefest brush—but my body reacts like something major just happened.
My pulse races and heat flashes up my arm so quickly that it almost burns. It’s as though holding her last night has opened a door that I closed years ago—a chance to touch Mira. This doesn’t bode well for the future.
“Thank you,” she says softly, covering her lap with the fabric. “I want you to know that I had no clue Lolly was going to …go theretoday. Or yesterday, I guess it is, at this point.”
“Oh, I believe that. You looked as shocked as I felt.”
“I just …” She sighs, shrugging. “I think I’m still in shock. Like, is this not the most Lolly thing ever?”
I chuckle. “Actually, I think she leveled up with this one. She’s always a little mischievous, but I never would’ve suspected she was capable of something this drastic.”
“Drastic is a good word for it.”
“How do you feel about it?” I ask, testing the waters. It’s going right for the deep end on the first dive, but I figure we might as well get it out in the open. It’s why she’s here, after all. “You can be honest with me.”
“I’ve been thinking about this. Obviously.” She chuckles, too. “And I don’t even know if I want Lolly’s house or not.” Her features are steady as she looks up at me. “But you deserve the land.”
I shake my head. “We’re not doing this because you think I deserve something.”
“But you do.”
I wish I could pull her into my arms and kiss her forehead—love on her a little. She’s a wild woman in many ways, but she can be the sweetest of them, too. I’d never put her in a position ofmarrying mefor only me to benefit from it.
She pulls the blanket more tightly around her middle. “I don’t want to be here. I’m not going to lie and pretend that I do. But I …” She looks past me, staring into the night. She pouts, which suggests she’s reliving something painful. Finally, she returns her attention to me. “I don’t know if I want Lolly’s house or not, but I also don’t want to make a decision just to make it. And I think having a few months to think about it would probably be smart. And very un-Mira-like.”
Hope blooms inside me so fast that it nearly steals my breath. I study her eyes, desperate to find any traces of regret or uncertainty. But I find none.
“We don’t have to do this,” I say, hating the sound of the words cutting through the air. Because I do want to do it. I’m nearly desperate to do it now that she’s in front of me and I realize this is my only chance to experience life with her—even if I can’t keep it. Even if I’m aware, and accept, that she’ll walk away when the year is over.
