Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LUKE
“This pie looks incredible, Laura,” Drew Sunday said as my mom set a slice in front of him on the Sundays’ big kitchen table. “Thank you so much for bringing it.”
“Aw. No trouble at all! Least I could do after you and Marco so generously invited us to dinner,” my mom said in her soft, musical voice. “I hope y’all like it. It’s one of Luke’s favorites.”
My eyes moved back and forth from one polite comment to the next. This was excruciating. If Marco and Drew hadn’t extended the invitation directly to my mom, I would have insisted on declining. The last thing I wanted was to force my family upon Webb.
To force myself on him.
When he’d told Amanda things between us were “nothing,” it had been a cold bucket of water to the face. A necessary cold bucket of water. I absolutely did not want to get in the way of Aiden’s stability, the Sunday family unit, or… or… Webb’s existing mountain of responsibilities.
And it was great to have gotten that reminder before any… feelings were involved. Because there weren’t any.
No feelings.
None whatsoever.
And thank gosh for that, right? Whew.
“I bet we will.” Gage gave me a friendly wink. “Since we like Luke.”
“Yeah we do,” Aiden said, leaning over to rest his head on my arm for a beat… before attacking his own slice of pie like a school of hungry piranha in a feeding frenzy.
I smiled down at him. Was there anything better than enjoying a meal with the people you loved? I didn’t think so. And in my case, it was the cherry on the sundae of my life, which was pretty close to perfect these days. Per-fect.
Just… just really, unbelievably perfect.
My mom and Aunt Sue had been here in Little Pippin Hollow for several days already. My mom looked healthier and more hopeful than she had in a long while, and she was making a point to introduce herself to all the people and places in my new hometown.
My newly renovated farmhouse was absolutely gorgeous—not to mention warm and solid, which were two qualities I’d never take for granted again.
Spring had arrived, and my sheep spent every day frolicking in the fields… which, yes, were mostly mud swamps, but the girls didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I was thinking it might be time to expand the herd.
Aiden had gotten his Nature Scout badge for knot tying, he was going to kick butt in the spelling bee this week (though I was impartially rooting for all the kids, obviously), and I’d even sat in the stands with Amanda the other night when Aiden’s Mites hockey team had made the playoffs.
We’d been cordial to each other, which had been a relief.
Work was going well. Principal Oliver had reversed direction and thrown her support behind the Pick-a-Book drive, even offering to take a shift working the fundraising booth at the Spring Fling.
The Sundays were my friends now—and not just neighbor-friends across the orchards, like the original lie I’d told my mom, but honest to goodness friends who brought me to Jack’s for breakfast and invited my mother to dinner.
In short, I was living the freaking fairy tale I’d written about in Old Ben Pond’s essay contest and then some.
Happily Ever After? Pfft. Lame.
Try Happiest Ever After.
Try Ecstatically Ever After.
Try… try Wholly and Completely Satisfied, Without Requiring A Single Other Thing or Person or Relationship, Ever After.
Of course, before tonight, I hadn’t actually seen Webb since Sunday morning, but that was fine. Better than fine! Friends didn’t live in each other’s pockets, after all, and it was important to remember that was what we were.
Friends, friends, friends.
Friends who used to have occasional benefits but were absolutely not going to do that anymore because those benefits were confusing.
And addictively sexy. And could actually have been really hurtful, if I’d gone and done something foolish like, say, falling in love with my gorgeous, kindhearted, steadfast, lumberjacky neighbor, when he’d made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t interested in anything more than a casual… nothing.
Thank goodness I’d saved myself from that, right?
It wasn’t like there was any tension between me and Webb. Gosh, no.
I mean, yes, I’d dressed and left the farmhouse immediately after the conversation with Amanda on Sunday—the one where Webb had so clearly said the handfasting meant nothing—but that was only because my mom had been on her way, not because I’d been upset or, like, brokenhearted.
And Webb had been busy, too, doing damage control with Aiden, who’d burst into tears at the idea that we weren’t getting married, and with Amanda, who was the one person in the greater Hollow area who didn’t know all the details of ye olde handfasting, and with Em, who’d been ready to challenge Webb to a duel on my behalf for “denying Luke a second time, for fuck’s sake, Judas Webb Sunday”—which was kind of funny, or at least I’d chosen to think so.
And then I’d been incredibly, genuinely busy this week—nearly as busy as I’d been the week before, really—with school, and showing my mom around, and making final preparations for the Pick-a-Book fundraiser and the spelling bee.
Webb was probably busy, too, but he wasn’t upset either…
or so it seemed from reading between the lines of the riveting, deeply personal texts he’d sent this week: “Muriel’s pins have dropped.
She could calve any day.” and “Weather looks good for the Spring Fling on Saturday.” and “Found a striped sock under my bed. Might be yours?”
He hadn’t apologized for what he’d said on Sunday, but then… why would he if what he’d said was true?
I just needed to remind myself that it didn’t matter.
Did not matter.
Because I had the fairy tale, and only a greedy idiot would want to keep the handsome prince, too.
“Lukey, honey, if you don’t like the pie, just say so.” The scent of my mom’s White Diamonds perfume got stronger as she leaned over to whisper in my ear.
“Hmm?” I looked up to find her—and my Aunt Sue, and most of the Sunday family—watching in concern as I hacked my dessert to smithereens.
My face got hot, and I hunched over my plate. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. No, the pie’s great. One of your best, Mom!” I scooped an enthusiastic bite into my mouth in demonstration. “I was just thinking about, uh… nothing? You know how it goes. Long day.”
“Understandable,” Knox agreed smoothly. “Many’s the time this week when I’ve found Webb chopping at something while he thinks about nothing. Isn’t that right, Webb?”
Webb ignored his brother. “Ms. Williams, this really is delicious. I don’t like pie, but this one’s got something different about it. Something… flowery.”
“Yes! It’s lavender! Not just a gorgeous face and a fine set of shoulders, is he, Lukey?” My mother elbowed me in the side, and though I refused to look toward the other end of the table, I could picture Webb blushing at the compliment. “Your betrothed is a smarty-pants, too.”
I forced a smile. “Isn’t he, though?”
Smarter than me, that was for sure.
Webb would never come as dangerously close to catching real feelings as I had. Webb was smart enough to cut himself off from the possibility entirely.
“Really, though, who doesn’t like pie?” I demanded of no one in particular.
“That’s just… odd. Isn’t it? Because pie…
It’s a pretty broad flipping category of food.
Just because a person doesn’t like onion tart doesn’t mean they won’t like strawberry refrigerator pie, does it?
And just because you had a bad experience with an apple pie one time doesn’t mean you won’t enjoy a crustless bacon quiche!
Nothing is wrong with pie, okay? Pie is… pie is great. Pie can be amazing.”
I ended my tirade and noticed silence had fallen around the table. I felt the weight of ten heavy stares. “And this pie here… it’s yummy. Really, Mama. So yummy.”
“I said it was good,” Webb insisted defensively. “I said it was delicious.”
For the first time since we’d sat down to dinner, I looked up the length of the table and let my eyes drink their fill of Webb Sunday. Somehow, he was even sexier than I remembered him being half an hour ago, which was annoying.
“Yes, I heard what you said. It’s nothing personal, Webb.
I’m simply saying that if a person goes around telling himself and everyone else that he doesn’t like pie, then maybe someday he won’t be offered pie anymore.
And that would be a tragedy. Because you just admitted that this pie is delicious.
” I shoveled another huge bite in my mouth and swallowed it as he watched.
“So maybe you should open your mind, okay?”
Webb tilted his head in confusion. “I… suppose?”
I nodded once, firmly.
“Well.” My mom clapped her hands once. “That was… a great reminder for all of us, thank you, Lukey. But you know, now I’m just dying to hear the whole story of how y’all came to be handfasted. Such a charming town tradition!”
“I still wanna know what handfasting is,” Aunt Sue added.
“I already explained it,” I reminded her. “The other day when you arrived.”
“You gave us the CliffsNotes,” she argued. “We want the whole thing. How’d you go from blowing a trumpet to having your names on refrigerator magnets and commemorative scrolls at the gift shop in town?”
“It’s a bugle,” Webb corrected. “Not a—wait, they have commemorative scrolls with our names?”
“Yep. And the mayor’s giving ’em away free to anyone who helps you and Luke check off your list,” Marco said happily. “I’m angling to get one.”
Webb shot him a dirty look.
“You know, Ms. Williams—Laura—makes an excellent point,” Knox said, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his hands. “I still haven’t heard the whole bugle story myself, just a bunch of rumors. I think this might be… enlightening.”
“I agree.” Drew raised an eyebrow in Webb’s direction.
Webb’s shoulders slumped.
“I agree, too!” Aiden said eagerly, brandishing his pie spoon. “Tell the story.”
“Aiden, I think it’s homework time.” Webb’s voice was uncompromising.