“Okay.” Emerson leaned up to kiss Luca’s cheek again. Maybe this was a new thing, how they’d communicate in front of Daisy now. Holding hands, cheek kisses. Chaste, but open. Somehow it made Luca blush more than anything else. “I’m gonna do the dishes.”
He stood to do just that, but Luca stayed there for a while. Able to watch both Daisy in the next room, watching her terrifying shows, and Emerson at the sink, rolling up his flannel to his elbows, doing all the work he did every day to take care of them.
Telling Daisy was a big step. But now that they’d accomplished it, a pressure on Luca’s sternum pressed in harder than ever before. Now he really couldn’t fuck this up. Now he truly had to put in his weight.
He still hadn’t sent Emerson his book. He knew it’d only been a week, that Emerson wasn’t waiting impatiently by his laptop for it or anything, that he’d still care about Luca even ifhe never sent it. But Lucawantedto; there was just…something holding him back every time. Something that didn’t feel right.
He’d sent him one of his planning documents instead, a few days ago. The one that listed out all the characters Luca now knew so well that they felt like the best friends he’d ever had: Ro, Indigo, Jack. Along with probably too many others, like all the things that contributed to his probably overly bloated manuscript, but Ro and Indigo and Jack were the ones who mattered.
“I got your email,” Emerson had said that night, walking into his bedroom when Luca was already waiting, reading a book under the covers. Luca had blushed immediately, even as Emerson’s smile had taken over his entire face.
“Sorry it’s not the whole book,” Luca had said, already flustered as Emerson crawled onto the bed on his hands and knees.
“It’s wonderful,” Emerson said. “Do you want me to pretend I never read it?”
“Kind of,” Luca admitted, and by then Emerson had been hovering over him, trapping Luca’s body with his own, mouth inches away when he whispered, “Thank you.” He’d then proceeded to show Luca exactly how grateful he was.
So. Luca was still working on that. But it was a start.
He and Dagny were working on getting online ordering set up through the Short Kings Farms website. Dahlia had promised not to drop her video until they were ready to go. He’d ordered shipping supplies and was taking over control of the farm’s social media. He’d talked with his mom about people they knew who could help spread the word about hosting small events, when Luca felt things were ready for that.
In addition to all the regular farm work with Jansel he still completed every day, he knew he was doing everything hecould to contribute to the farm. It felt good, feeling more like an actual partner. Pushing himself to learn new things. To not be passive anymore.
But he’d seen Emerson’s spreadsheets now.
Emerson had shared them the morning after Luca had shared hisDriftcharacter sheet, while they still lay in bed, the dawn barely broken. And maybe it shouldn’t have surprised Luca, that Emerson seemed even more neurotic about it than Luca was about his book.
“I know it’s probably not fair to ask this, but—can you promise me you won’t say anything about the finances one, when you look at it? I know I’m behind on things, that it’s bad, but…I cut Jansel’s hours to half time in the winter months, which I hate, but I might be able to dig my way out of some of it then. Just know I’m working on it, okay?”
And Luca’s heart had broken at the stress in his voice, on his face, but he’d only nodded his head and said, “Of course, Emerson.”
He’d waited until Emerson had been out of the house that morning, off to take care of Sally and the chickens, before he’d opened his email.
His stomach had been in knots, tangled around his esophagus, ever since.
Emerson brought in decent money from his products, but his debts were just so damn high. Luca frankly had no idea how he managed to pay Jansel every month, how he managed to keep up with the mortgage. But he was behind on a lot of other stuff: credit cards, mostly, but also things like the electric bill, the water bill. Taxes. And this was after the money from the wedding, which had paid off some other things—he had been even more in the red before.
Luca’s head had hurt after only a few minutes of trying to take it all in. The fact that he’d ever thought his querying spreadsheet could compare to what Emerson was dealing within this one made him feel like an asshole. He thought of all the times he’d assured Emerson that the farm was totally fine and wanted to bang his head into the wall.
He knew now that even trying new ventures like online ordering wasn’t going to magically fill the hole that Emerson found himself in. He needed serious money to pay off his debts. To fix those greenhouses, to pay Jansel, to do the real, production-moving work that Short King Farms needed.
Luca looked at Emerson washing dishes now for a long moment more before he walked into the living room and sat next to Daisy on the couch. He attempted to watch the horrible show for thirty seconds before he turned to her and said, “Daisy. What theheckis going on here.”
She giggled and fell into his side.
And then she just…stayed there, while she explained what was happening in the show—which seemed, in Luca’s brief understanding of the actions on screen, completely inaccurate—until Luca was forced to wrap an arm around her back to better accommodate her. His hand found its way to her hair.
Emerson didn’t have any deep connections here, no family. Luca needed to find a serious amount of cash before winter hit so Emerson wouldn’t lose the farm.
So Luca wouldn’t lose this.
As he sat and let the unintelligible noises the characters were making on the TV pass right through him, the idea he’d already been thinking about gained weight, dripping through the hourglass of his heart.
Maybe it wouldn’t work.
Maybe it was a bad idea.
But later that night, he sent Dell McCleary a text anyway.
