Chapter 13
Sophie
Whiskey and I make it to the autumn festival just as the sun is setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. I can tell the crowd makes him uncomfortable, but he doesn’t complain. He just pulls me close, putting his arm around my shoulders.
There’s a booth with face painting for the kids. I stop and help out, painting a few faces. And when I’m done, the way Whiskey looks at me takes my breath away.
There’s every kind of autumn dish imaginable for sale, and all of the delicious scents blend together. I eat a corn dog that’s flavored like pumpkin pie. I like it, but Whiskey keeps making a face with every bite.
Candy apples are our next treat. The apples are crunchy and tart, just sweet enough underneath all of that caramel. I beam up at my new boyfriend.
“Isn’t this amazing?” He leans close enough to whisper in my ear, “Nothing tastes as good as your pussy.” My cheeks heat, and I duck my head so no one can see how warm my face is.
When I shiver, he wraps me in his jacket, and we walk down a lane of booths, pausing to let some of the kids run in front of us.
He says, “What made you decide on Asheville for your first 5K race?” I say, “It’s a charity run. For every mile run by each participant, $10,000 is being donated to fund research into post-traumatic stress disorder. I don’t want anyone else to ever go through what I faced and feel that alone.”
He says, “You’re so brave. I’m in awe of your strength.”
I nudge him with my shoulder. “Well, what about you? You seem lighter tonight.”
He says, “I talked to my mom. Emma May just has this way of making me feel like it’s okay to be who I am, and she gives the best hugs. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”
“Wait, Emma May is your mom?” My mouth goes dry at the realization, and my heart pounds. He’s oblivious. It’s written on his face.
“It’s obvious, by the way,” he says. “Yeah.” So casually. Across the way, Missy waves at me at the same time that a cowboy in a Stetson gestures for Whiskey. He’s oblivious to my inner turmoil.
He says, “Go say hi to your friends. I’ll be right back.” Then he disappears to go greet the cowboy.
On shaky legs, I cross the lane to greet Missy, who is holding Daisy. Daisy grins up at me, showcasing two teeth that have come in on her bottom gums. She’s such a cutie, and Missy has dressed her up as a little pumpkin.
Missy beams at me. “I heard you’re thinking about staying in Courage County. I hope that’s true, and if you do, I’d love to have you at the book club.” My stomach sinks. I’m not sure what to say to that.
Two minutes ago, I could have sworn I was going to try to stay in Courage County, but now I’m not so sure. As if she senses all my doubts, Emma May steps up. She gives the two of us a beaming smile.
“What are you two girls talking about?” Missy chatters on about something, but I shake my head. “I’m sorry.” I direct my words at Emma May. “I need to talk to you in private.” The two of us step behind one of the booths. I don’t want anyone overhearing this.
“What’s wrong?” the little old lady, who I’d begun to think of as a friend, asks. “You were the one who did it,” I say. “You rented me Whiskey’s cabin.”
To my relief, Emma May doesn’t try to deny it. She sends me a pleading look. “You have to understand. I just wanted my son to rejoin the land of the living.”
I say, “You have to tell him. He’s going to think we manipulated him. He’s going to think I manipulated him.” I shake my head at that realization. “I have to go.” Moving past her, I start toward the exit for the fairgrounds.
I duck my head as I walk so no one can see the tears that have started to flow. The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt Whiskey, but now he’s going to think that I was trying to trick him.
A strong hand reaches out and grabs my arm, stopping me. I glance up to see Whiskey standing there. All around us, the crowd continues to surge forward.
The winners of the pumpkin judging contest are about to be announced, and a lot of people want to get close to the stage to hear the results. “What are you doing?” he asks me. His hand is still on my arm, the warmth of his skin seeping in even through the thick layer of his jacket.
The jacket he gave me less than an hour ago when I thought that we had a future together. He deserves to know the truth. Swallowing hard, I say, “Whiskey, your mom just told me—”
His eyes soften, and he interrupts me before I can finish. “I know.” He says, “I know what she said, and I don’t care. I don’t care if she orchestrated the whole thing. I don’t even care if you were in on it, which I don’t think you were. I only care if you love me back.”
I gasp at his words. “What?”
He says, “I’m in love with you.” He repeats the five words so casually, as if he hasn’t rearranged my entire world with them.
Now I’m still crying, but for an entirely different reason. My heart feels full to the bursting point. “I’m in love with you, too.”
Movement just beyond Whiskey’s shoulder catches my attention, and I frown when I recognize the same straight black hair that I have. I wave to get my mom’s attention and ask, “What are you doing here?”
Whiskey says, “She’s here because I have a question to ask you.” Before I can figure out what’s going on, he’s down on one knee.
He looks up at me, affection and tenderness shining in his gaze. He says, “I love you, Sophie. When we’re both old and decaying, you’re the one I want to be searching for brains with. Be my wife in this life and the afterlife.”
I laugh at his proposal because it’s ridiculous and crazy and silly and so very us. I throw myself into his arms, peppering his face with kisses as I agree to marry him.
He chuckles. “I’m going to take this response as a yes.” I smack his shoulder.
“I can’t believe you asked me to marry you on the first date.” He gives me a grin, one that tells me he’s just as happy as I am. “When you know, you know.”