Page 4 of You Fall First

“Being single at your age is hardly a tragedy, Jo.”

“I know, but I still feel pretty stupid sometimes.” I sigh. “I was ready to go ring shopping and order up a white picket fence, and Oliver was texting another woman for tips on how to break up with me.”

She grimaces. “That was rough.”

“That was next-level humiliation. And being alone at the wedding will be a solid reminder that he just wasn’t that into me.”

“So bring a date,” Kendal suggests. “Landry saved you a plus one.”

“No way.” I frown. “I’m going on a man strike.”

Kendal glances around like she’s worried Floyd Winchell might overhear me, but unlike Kendal, I hope he’s listening. I want every guy in Harvest Hollow to get the memo. Maybe every male in North Carolina. Not like there’s a stampede of them asking me out, but just in case.

“I’m sorry,” she says, gently.

“Thanks, but pity is worse than embarrassment.” I move over to the pen and scoop up a piglet. He’s half black, half pink, and one hundred percent wiggly. As I cradle him, the little squirmer shifts in my arms, grunting up at me. “What do you think, Wilbur? Romance is overrated, right?”

“Hmm.” Kendal squats to peer at the pig. “I’m pretty sure Wilbur is a she.”

“Fine. Hi, there, Wilhelmina.” I coo down at her grunty little face. “Tell my big sister we don’t need a man.”

“Well, I for one won’t stop hoping you find love,” she says. “Everybody needs love, Jo.”

“What I need is that time machine,” I say, lifting my gaze.

“Yeah, you mentioned that before.” Kendal furrows her brow. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, except that I walked in on Mom and Dad this morning. In the kitchen nook.” I lower my voice. “Nook-ing.”

“Nooooo.” Kendal lets out a moan. “Under Mom’s Happiness is a Choice sign?”

“They were choosing happiness, all right. To be fair, though, they were still mostly clothed.”

She makes a face. “There’s a world of uncomfy in the word ‘mostly.’”

“My point, exactly. Mom’s hair was a mess, and her ponytail holder was on the table, like someone had just torn it out of her hair. And that someone was Dad.”

Kendal flinches. “I mean … better him than someone else.”

“Ugh. Not helping.”

“What did they say when they noticed you?”

“That’s the worst part, Ken. Instead of acting even a little bit mortified, Dad just blinked at me and said, ‘You’re back early.’ When I shrieked, ‘No, I’m not,’ Mom said, ‘Then I guess we’re running late this week.’”

Kendal makes a face. “This week?”

“Exactly. Like me leaving for yoga is a regular thing they set their alarms to. So you’ll understand why, in the absence of a time machine, I need to get that first paycheck and get my own place. ASAP.”

“Do Mom and Dad know about Mockingbird yet?”

“Not yet. My training doesn’t start until after the wedding. But hopefully, when I tell them now, they won’t explode.”

As if on cue, there’s an absolute eruption in TJ’s diaper. Kendal holds him out in front of her, his legs dangling and kicking like he’s riding an invisible bicycle. TJ stares right at me and launches into happy giggles.

“That sounded like an epic blowout.” I gulp down the bile rising in my throat.

“Indeed.” Kendal’s eyes dart to the big red barn across the farm. This isn’t a traditional barn with hay bales and horses. The Harvest Farms barn is huge. There’s a gift shop inside and space for artisans to teach craft classes. They host events like the seasonal wreath-making contest next week. People even get married here.