“I’m still trying to figure it all out in my head. How I can still hold all that and everything I feel for you. Because I feel…so much for you, Luca. But that’s what I want,” he whispered, before clearing his throat and firming his voice. “To hold it all. Jay, and Daisy, and you. But I understand if that doesn’t feel fair to you, if it’s too much baggage, or whatever. That…to be with me, you have to kind of take Daisy and Jay, too.”
“And Sally,” Luca said after a moment, and Emerson’s stomach flipped. “And the chickens, and the goats.”
“Yeah.” Emerson cleared his throat again, fighting a smile. Trying to hold the hope at bay. It was easier to feel it, these days, but he still had to be sensible. “Them, too.”
Luca sighed, bringing up his knees, draping his arms loosely around them.
“I think part of the reason I went back to my old house last night was because I needed to talk to my mom.” A small, self-deprecating huff of air. He picked at the seam of his jeans. “I was trying to put myself in your shoes. She talked about what she’d do if my dad ever died. If she could love again, or whatever. That situation isn’t the same, exactly, but still.”
Emerson nodded, heart thudding against his chest.
When Luca didn’t continue, he prompted, “What did she say?”
A shrug. “That everyone was different, basically. But that yeah, of course someone could love again. That there’s room in us for that.”
Emerson and Luca had both been facing the opposite wall. Emerson turned his head now to look at Luca. He was stunning in profile, as he was stunning in any angle. Emerson watched his jaw work, the rosy warmth of his ears.
“You know I already care about Daisy, Emerson. I’m not mad about Jayden being part of your life, or even…the fact that you still love each other. It’s just, at the end of the day, I’m still in my own shoes. And I’ve only ever been part of kind of half-baked relationships before, and the way I feel about you?—”
The slightest shake of his head. His arms had dropped to his sides; he dropped his gaze as his fingers crawled along the floorboards.
“I know you care about me. But I don’t want to be a consolation prize. I don’t want to be the afterthought dancethe next day. Not that I didn’t—I really liked this, to be clear. But what I want most is for someone to truly choose me. For real.”
As soon as a beat of silence passed, signaling Luca was done, Emerson crawled over him, straddling his lap. He thought Luca might be a little gun-shy after all that, but Luca welcomed him immediately, hands running up Emerson’s thighs. Their bodies fit so easily together now. Luca’s gaze, though, remained somewhere around Emerson’s stomach.
Emerson cupped his hands around Luca’s neck, stroking his thumbs against that strong jawbone. Pacifying words jumped into his throat at once, a heartbeat away from escaping.Of course I choose you, Luca. A month ago, I never would have been able to believe choosing you would have even been an option for me. You choosing me is the miracle here.
Instead he stayed quiet, processing, as Luca’s body slowly softened beneath him.
“Now that I know,” Emerson started, trying to choose each word with care, “I’ll work on it every day. Showing you how I choose you. Showing you how great you, and me, and this, already are. But Luca. Iwantedto dance with you last night. But you weren’t there. I couldn’t find you.”
He lowered his forehead to Luca’s. Lifted his right thumb to Luca’s cheek.
“However you want me, Luca, I’m yours.”
It wasn’t that part of Emerson belonged to Jayden, and part of him now belonged to Luca. He was still trying to figure it out, but he knew his heart wasn’t compartmentalized so easily as that. It was more like all of him belonged to both of them, like he belonged to Daisy, too, like he belonged to this farm.
“But you have to let me in, too. You have to walk onto the dance floor.”
Luca released a shuddering breath. Emersonexamined Luca’s eyelashes, so long against his cheeks, so close to Emerson’s face they almost didn’t look real.
“I know,” Luca conceded. “Look, I’m not actually that good at this. I know I just said what I wanted, but I’ve barely even seriously dated anyone before; I don’t?—”
“Luca,” Emerson said. “I want to read your book.”
Luca jerked his head, finally looking Emerson in the eye. Emerson leaned back just enough to meet his gaze—dark and tense and unreadable.
Maybe Emerson was pushing too much, beingtoohonest, too fast, but?—
“I don’t want to be a consolation prize either,” he continued. “I don’t want to be this situation you kind of fell into, something that feels good right now just because it’s not your family’s boats. I wantyou. I want to know what goes on in here.” He tapped Luca’s temple. “And I know a lot of what goes on in there is about your writing. You can tell me it’s too private. I get needing to keep certain things to yourself, and that’s okay, too. But I’m telling you what I want, too.”
Luca swallowed. Whatever steely look he’d been holding started to waver. A long moment passed.
“What if it’s not good,” he rasped, more statement than question.
Emerson could only smile fondly at him, fingertips tracing the side of his face. The obvious, placating answer was once more right there.Of course it’s good, Luca. I already know it.
“Want to know a secret?” he asked instead. “I don’t care. I don’t want to read your book to assess it for literary quality, Luca. I want to read it because you love it. I want you to be able to talk to me about it when you have a new idea, or when you’re struggling with a storyline, and so I can tell you why all those literary agents don’t matter in the end. Because it means something toyou. So it already means something to me. Okay?”
