Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Autumn
I’ve officially gone twenty-four hours successfully avoiding Ezra.
I warm a cup of cider on the stove and peer out at the morning sky. It’s so early without the sun to brighten it up, but it’s still a pretty navy blue that goes on for miles.
We are filling up the shop with all of Dessie’s treasures today. And in one week, on October first, we’ll open for business.
I have emailed Ezra about details and builders. He sent me all the info and I sent my choices back to him over electronic mail. See—it's possible. He can be my architect, we can work on this project and the farm together, we can even live right next door to one another, all while never seeing each other.
Once the builders come, he should be set to leave. Two thousand miles away. And maybe once he’s gone, the thought of him will hurt less.
I open up my screen door, the air crisp, a fall breeze rustling the pine needles that litter the ground. I tug my denim jacket tighter around myself and step outside. I peer down as my foot collides with— something . I didn’t leave anything on my porch.
There’s a little wrapped box with a pink bow atop it. That bow is possibly bigger than the entire box. I peer over to the little white house where Ezra sleeps and pick up the box.
Checking my watch—5:24 a.m.—I step back inside and open up the surprise gift. I lift the lid to find a faux gold locket and chain inside. There’s an H carved into the front of the necklace—which makes no sense for Autumn Green. But it’s a sweet charm. Maybe it ended up on the wrong porch?
My fingers grapple at the tiny latch on the side of the locket opening it up to see the one and only Harry Styles smiling back at me. “‘Watermelon Sugar’,” I say to no one but myself.
I smile and, for some reason, clasp the thing around my neck. It makes me feel a little lighter. A little stronger. Like Harry is on my side and this day isn’t going to suck. My heart isn’t going to stop beating and I won’t die of heartbreak—not today. Not with Harry helping me out.
Still, I tuck it beneath my shirt, hiding the golden H from the world.
Dessie, maybe? She might know about my secret obsession with Harry. I’m not sure.
Meg? Did she have it specially delivered? The only other person who knows of my Harry love is living right next door, and in this moment, I'd like to refer to him as he-who-must-not-be-named once more.
Besides, it wasn’t there when I went to bed and Ezra is clearly still sleeping now.
It’s from Dessie. Or Meg—delivered by Dessie.
The end.
At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
I spend the morning with Dessie setting up stands, shelves, and hooks for her Christmas shop. We don’t set out any of her actual creations, just all the things they’ll sit or hang on. I don’t ask her about the package, I merely give her a big hug and tell her how much I love her.
By late afternoon, the old barn looks like a shop ready to be filled.
“What’s Don up to?” I ask. We haven’t seen her husband, the new workers, or Ezra all day. Okay—it’s possible I’m mostly curious about Ezra.
“He’s got everyone on pest control duty. Though, I think Ezra’s been going over plans with the builders.”
My heart skips. “He has?”
“Haven’t you talked to him? He said the contractor you chose had a conflict and he was going to have to pull some strings to get him.”
I swallow. “Oh.”
“I would have thought you two would be all cozied up in one house by now.”
“By now? It’s been two weeks. And Ezra and I don’t cozy anymore.”
She studies the iPad we use as a register. “You looked pretty cozy in the shed last week.”
I cough and do my best not to sputter. “That was—rain. Just rain. Nothing more.”
“Mm-hmm.” She taps the screen, then picks up our card runner, testing the thing with the credit card from her own back pocket. “Rain can start all kinds of trouble. I’m thinking Don and I should get caught in the rain. Sounds like fun to me.”
I roll my eyes. “Are we good in here?”
“For today.” Dessie nods. “Where are you off to?”
“I’ve got two Airbnb’s to clean.”
“Oh, that’s right.” She taps her chin, drawing out the words. “What about Ezra’s place?”
“He’s still in it,” I say. That’s the best part of a long stay: we don’t clean until they leave.
“Yes, but I’m sure he needs fresh sheets by now.” Dessie’s blue eyes blink, pleading .
“Then he can use the washer and dryer in the house and freshen them himself.” I shake my head. I will not be cleaning up after that man. Once he leaves, I’m hiring a cleaner—even if I pay for it out of my own check. Okay… I won’t be doing that because I’ve got a mountain of doctor bills I’m still working on paying off.
But I will for sure be getting one of the new hires to clean Ezra’s place!
“Just take in a clean set. You don’t have to change his sheets, just hand them to him. Or leave them on his bed. He’s still helping Don. Pretty please?”
Can I actually say no to Dessie—Dessie Linus, my second mother, the woman building a bistro on her farm and giving me the job of running it?
No. No, I cannot.
I blow a raspberry between my lips. “Fine. I’ll take him some clean sheets but nothing more. And I’m not cleaning that place when he leaves!”
Sure, I can’t say no to her, but I can still stand my ground and be a little stubborn.
I spend the next two hours cleaning the two vacant houses on the farm and avoiding Ezra’s place like a Taylor Swift concert filled with Harry haters.
It’s a lot of sweeping, scrubbing, and switching out dirty towels and sheets—nothing difficult. The places are cleaned so often, they’re fairly easy to spruce up. And yet, I’m sweating.
By the time I finish with house number two, it’s raining and I’m okay with that. I need a cool-off.
I peer out the window, I can’t avoid my dumb Ezra task any longer.
For the record, I know Ezra isn’t dumb. In fact, the man is kind, unselfish, and brilliant—all things that make it really difficult to stay away from him. Which is why I’ve found referring to him as dumb Ezra so helpful.
It keeps me on course. The course of getting Ezra Bennett back to New York and keeping my heart in its slightly used and abused but stitched-up form. It doesn’t need any more cracks. It may never recover.
I find a garbage bag beneath the sink and slide Ezra’s Downy soft, lavender-fresh cotton sheets inside. With the hood of my sweatshirt up, I race out into another fall rainstorm. I’m not sure where all the precipitation is coming from. But we’ll take it. At least it isn’t snow—yet.
I knock on Ezra’s door, but when he doesn’t answer, I take advantage of the situation. I can leave these sheets on his bed and sneak out before the man ever knows I’ve been here. And when he asks, I’ll tell him Dessie must have brought them by.
Ezra’s only been here two weeks, but I slip into his unlocked door and I’m immediately assaulted with his aftershave. Cedarwood and musk fill my senses and attempt to seduce me. But I am on a mission. Sheets in. Autumn out. Before Ezra is ever the wiser.
Which is exactly what I would have done… had I not had to pass by the kitchen table to get to the hall to get to his bedroom. But I do. And atop the table is empty packaging for a Harry Styles necklace. Apparently, it didn't come in the nice white box I found it in, Ezra relocated it to that box.
“Dang you, Ezra!” I slap a hand to my collarbone, where the locket sits beneath my wet sweatshirt. I growl and groan, then drop his perfectly dry sheets to the ground—they’re protected in that garbage bag. I’m not dirtying them up. I tug the wet, clinging sweater over my head and toss it onto the floor.
My thin cotton tee beneath it is wet through, but at least it might have a chance to dry now.
I huff out a breath, cross my arms, and nose around Ezra’s place.
It’s mostly neat, with a few dishes in the sink and shoes by the couch. It’s a space that’s normally perfect—and right now it looks lived in, but not messy. I pad back to his bedroom, rain pelting down on the roof. I dump the sheets from the garbage bag onto his bed, and just Ezra’s luck, they tumble out still in their neat and tidy Dessie fold.
I grunt, tempted to unfold them and maybe rub my soaked sweatshirt into the soft fabric. I don’t—only because I love Dessie. And Harry. But not Ezra.
I peer around the room. There’s a suitcase standing in the corner, but it must be empty. One of the dresser drawers is opened halfway with clothes inside, telling me that Ezra’s using the dresser. He’s filled it up. He’s unpacked. I’d guess the closet is full too.
I walk to the opposite side of the room and slide open the closet door. Ezra’s musky scent attempts to drown me. He is going to kill me with musk and cedarwood and mint gum.
Yep, this closet is filled as if he’s staying the entire fall season.
He’s not, right?
His part of this job is almost finished.
I flip through his clothes, dress shirts, slacks, and then—a red flannel shirt with a thick lining. My mouth quirks up in a half grin that I couldn’t stop if I tried.
There’s also jeans, shoes, and belts in here—as if the man never plans to leave.
And it all smells deliciously of Ezra. Ezra now. And Ezra then.
My heart drops a little.
Will my life be forever known as before Ezra and after Ezra? Oh yeah, and that one time in the middle when he came to visit.
All at once, it grows quieter. Quiet—in this already quiet place.
The rain must have lightened up… though water still pelts the windowpane.
Okay, nope… not the rain. My eyes dart to the other door inside this room. The closed door that leads to the room within the room. The bathroom . It is quieter in here. And I’m pretty sure that it’s because someone just turned off the shower in that room.
It was on and I didn’t realize it, not with the pelting rain outside. It all blended together until it didn’t.
Now it’s off and he’s in there. And mostly likely without a whole lot of clothes on.
The knob turns—I see it as if it were all happening in slow motion. It turns and I watch, with the exit clear across the room.
Gasping, I launch myself through the closest opening—the closet door.
Holding my breath, I crawl into the corner and pray I turn invisible in the next thirty seconds.