Chapter 21
twenty-one
If Luca spent the next hour or so inside a pasture, trying to talk out his feelings to a cow and a bunch of chickens—well, no one needed to know. He could hear, distantly, the boom of the DJ from across the farm, the indistinct hum of music. It seemed everything was going just fine without him.
And he knew the goats wouldn’t be good listeners.
Anyway, Sally seemed to be pretty sick of him after a while, and he was sure at this point every piece of his clothing and follicle of his hair had fully absorbed the smell of manure, so it seemed like the right time to go and try to get his man back.
In truth, even an hour of having one-sided conversations with livestock hadn’t helped him suss out exactly how he was going to do that.
If his man was even his man in the first place.
But he figured he could at least ask Emerson for a dance.
And during that dance, he’d ask if they could talk the next day.
And maybe a full night’s rest would help Luca find the right words to express it all, the actual most important words in his goddamn life.
That he was in love with Emerson, and this fucking farm, and he was tired of being passive about the things he felt, of letting his life roll right over him.
He wasn’t going to let Jayden roll over him, either.
He was going to stay on this farm until Emerson kicked him out.
And the day that happened, at least Luca would know that he’d tried.
He trudged up the hill toward the music and the lights.
He was surprised, when he opened the old barn door, at the wall of heat that hit him.
Emerson had been worried, Luca knew, about the lack of heating in the barn, how nights could get cold here.
But that apparently wasn’t a problem when a hundred moving bodies were involved.
Pulling the collar of the old dress shirt he’d stolen from Daniel’s closet away from his neck, Luca pushed into the crowd.
Past the tack room, at the corner of the open space that now encompassed tables and a dance floor, Luca paused and scanned the barn.
He saw lots of faces he now recognized, from the rehearsal dinner and from the day; he saw Julie and a stunner of a dark-haired woman he assumed was her partner.
He saw Mae and Dell, whom he’d seen across the crowd earlier, too.
Dell looked hot, like he always did, but Luca thought he actually looked a bit uncomfortable in his suit.
But as he tugged Mae and their bubblegum-wrapper of a dress closer to his thick body, he mostly just looked happy.
Happier than Luca had certainly ever seen him in a crowd. Luca was only glad for him.
But he didn’t see—
There. In the opposite corner, hands stuck in his pockets. Standing alone and looking out at the crowd, just like Luca was. He looked exhausted, just like Luca felt. Like Emerson was waiting for Luca to find him. To take him home.
Luca stepped forward.
And he watched as Jayden got there first.
Emerging from the crowd, Jayden put his hand on Emerson’s arm. Said something in Emerson’s ear. Smiling, Emerson looked up at him and nodded.
The DJ transitioned to a slow song. Emerson and Jayden walked onto the dance floor and into each other’s arms.
Emerson’s head settled onto Jayden’s shoulder like it belonged there.
Luca watched for a minute. Two. Watched Jayden murmur something into Emerson’s ear. Watched Emerson say something back. Whatever he said, he said it with a smile.
Luca turned and walked away.
He didn’t know where he was going. He couldn’t go to his cabin. Couldn’t go back inside the farmhouse, surrounded by pictures of Jayden and Emerson’s happy life, Jayden’s neat handwriting all over his room. He only knew he couldn’t stay here.
Without saying goodbye to a soul, Luca slipped out of the barn and into the night.
The wedding, by all accounts that Emerson had been able to see, had been a success.
All the vendors had shown up on time with the right things.
The only tears that had been shed were happy ones.
Both Jayden and Luca had been there to greet and smile and guide, a relief so full in Emerson’s chest he was still wrapping his head around it.
It was starting to rain now, a light Oregon drizzle, but the weather had held during all the important moments: the arrival of happy guests on a yellow school bus; the exchanging of vows in the middle of a wildflower field; the taking of photos.
The barn, too, had held. No mice had run over toes; no beams had fallen on heads; there had been no electrical outages.
It was loud and boisterous at the moment, full of music and drinks and dancing and life.
And Emerson couldn’t wait for it to be over.
He was glad everyone was having a good time; he was glad Ben and Alexei seemed happiest of all. Truly, he was. He had had a good time, too, more than he would’ve expected he was capable of even a few weeks ago.
He was also exhausted.
He’d escaped the mayhem a bit ago to make sure the animals were taken care of in the other barn, and that had been a welcome respite. But otherwise, he’d been surrounded by people since dawn, and all he wanted was to escape into the quiet of his house and fall into bed with Luca.
Except he couldn’t find him.
They’d seen each other less throughout the day than Emerson had expected, only glimpses and walkbys here and there, other than during the ceremony.
But it had felt right, starting the day with Luca.
Being together for the most important part.
And now he was ready to end it with him.
To pass out for a solid ten hours and then wake up and make a plan about what happened next.
Emerson should have already had that talk with Luca, about what happened next. He knew that. But after watching Ben and Alexei embrace each other all day, embrace what they wanted—he felt especially ready now.
He just had to find Luca first.
“Emerson!” A short, curvy dark-haired woman stumbled into him. He reached out to steady her, recognition hitting a second later.
“Dahlia,” he said. “You okay?”
When he had first seen Dahlia and her partner London the night before, they had both seemed so familiar, but it had taken him an hour to place it.
When it’d finally clicked into place—that he’d watched Dahlia and London on TV years before as contestants on Chef’s Special—he’d grabbed Luca’s thigh under the table so hard that Luca had choked on his beer.
“I’m great!” Dahlia chirped now, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. “I’ve been looking for you all day. Sorry I didn’t find you until now. I’m normally not quite this tipsy when I make a pitch.”
London sidled up behind her, resting a reassuring hand along her hip.
“Anyway, I have a YouTube channel where I post cooking videos? Oh, I’m Dahlia Woodson, by the way.”
“Yes.” Emerson couldn’t help but smile at the fact that she’d apparently missed him calling her by her name thirty seconds ago. As if he weren’t aware there were veritable celebrities currently hanging out on his little farm. “I know.”
“Oh, cool. So in addition to my regular cooking things, I’ve started a series where I interview small farmers about their work and our food chain supply, and while I’ve mostly been focusing on farmers in Tennessee—oh, that’s where we live—I would love, love, love to do a short video tour and interview with you about this place, if you’re up for it. ”
“Um,” Emerson said. “That would be just fine.”
“Great! The thing is we’re not in town very long. Would we be able to do it tomorrow afternoon? Or is that too soon? It’s okay if you can’t.”
“I think—” Emerson felt more flustered than he probably should have. It was a pretty straightforward request, and Dahlia was warm and approachable, and he didn’t have anything pressing on his schedule for tomorrow, in anticipation of spending most of the day recovering from this event.
He just, in that moment, wished Jayden were there. He would understand more about the significance of an influencer like Dahlia shooting something on the farm, and how Emerson should prepare for it. But Jayden had already left, was already on his way back to Daisy.
“That…should be fine.”
“Oh, swell. That’s just lovely. I can—” Dahlia patted the bodice of her dress. “London, can you give the nice man my number?”
“Only if you can confirm that you just said the word swell.”
“I did. I’m feeling festive, and it felt right. Don’t shame my festiveness.”
“I would never. Emerson, could I have your number?” London was already holding their phone. Emerson recited it, and London slid their phone back into their suit pocket. “We’ll give you a heads up when we’re on our way.”
“Cool. Um. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Dahlia said, tipping closer to Emerson’s chest in her enthusiasm. London tightened their grip around her middle, pulling her closer. With a wry smile, London gave Emerson a nod before turning them both away.
“Before you go,” Emerson said suddenly, remembering his mission, “have you seen Luca?”
London and Dahlia both looked at him blankly before Dahlia said, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know who that is.”
And the idea of that—not knowing who Luca was—seemed incomprehensible to Emerson.
But—why would Dahlia and London know who Luca was?
The last twenty-four hours had been a long blur; both Emerson and Luca had mostly kept to the background.
Yet Dahlia had apologized so sincerely that Emerson wanted to hug her.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Thank you.”
He wandered five Luca-less minutes more until he ran into the men of honor.
“Hey,” he said. “How’s your wedding been?”
Ben and Alexei smiled, both of their faces red and damp, the collars of their dress shirts unbuttoned.
“So good,” Ben said.
“The best,” Alexei said, giving Emerson a look that was both the most serious and happy thing Emerson had ever seen. For a moment, Emerson’s breath caught, arrested by the raw joy of a friend.