Chapter 27
Collin
“I don’t know why this blindfold is necessary.” Molly crosses her arms over her chest as she feigns a convincing pout in my passenger seat. “I know you’re taking me to your field again, Collin Graham.”
She’s not wrong. But a few things have changed since the last time we came out here—hence the bandana tied around her eyes.
It’s been two weeks since we last drove out here, and a little over a month since James and Winnie got married. A lot has actually changed, and not just regarding the field. Molly set all her social accounts to private, not deleting anything just in case she ever wants to return.
But seeing how much weight she seemed to shed, I doubt she’ll go back. At least not anytime soon.
We’ve also both moved out of Tank’s place in anticipation of him moving in.
I miss sharing a space with Molly (in spite of her mess), but she insisted it was important to be on her own—at least for a little bit.
And it helped slow things down a little, which is probably a good thing since my every inclination is to jam my foot on the gas and forget things like brakes exist.
I want to do things with Molly right and not rush. But I also don’t want to waste time when I know she’s the one I want to spend forever with.
Right now, I’m working on timing. After she’s worked so hard to gain independence, I want to be sure she feels like she’s had enough time on her own.
“You might be right about our destination,” I say, drumming my fingers excitedly on the wheel. “But the blindfold stays. We’re almost there, so maybe you could calm down.”
“Do you realize how dangerous it is to tell a woman to calm down?”
“I’m just quoting the Taylor Swift song.”
“I think you’re misquoting it, actually.”
“Well, I never did claim to be a Swiftie. Oh, hey—we’re here. Don’t move! And don’t take off the blindfold. I’m coming around to open your door.”
I pull up and park in our usual spot, looking over the field as I do.
At a quick glance, not much is different.
But the grass has been neatly trimmed, the fading sunlight making the green glint gold.
The herd of cows is gone, and a sign has been set up facing the road, which is now paved.
I’m surprised Molly didn’t notice. Or maybe she did and was just too busy complaining about the blindfold.
I open her door and lean in to unbuckle her seatbelt, if for no other reason than to smell the whisky buttercream scent that I now know is a combination of her favorite lotion and something that’s just her. Taking her hand, I help Molly out of the car and close the door.
“Is all this really necessary?” she asks, but I can tell by the tiny smile on her lips that she’s just giving me a hard time. “So much drama. It’s almost like you’re trying to compete with Pat.”
“Those are fighting words,” I growl. Molly squeals and laughs as I bend and pick her up behind the knees, cradling her against my chest. “I’ll show you drama.”
Still laughing, she says, “I’d ask you to put me down, but I kind of like it when you pick me up.”
“I know.” Tilting my head, I kiss her cheek, then the corner of her mouth.
The laughter leaves her face as her lips part on a little sigh.
But lest I lose focus and get lost in kissing her—something I know from experience I’m particularly prone to do—I straighten up and clear my throat. “Okay. Are you ready, Molly-girl?”
“Yes.”
“Then take off the blindfold.”
She rips it off and tosses it unceremoniously at our feet, blinking in the sun’s red-gold glow. I say nothing though, watching her expression as she takes it in.
“You had the road paved,” she says first. “And there’s a sign! Oh, my gosh—it’s really happening! This feels very official.”
“It is.” I’ve never had to deal with so much bureaucracy as I have in the last month.
Molly tightens her arms around my neck and leans her head against my chest. “Collin, this is amazing. You’re really doing it. Walk me closer to the sign? I want to get a picture.”
In the past, this kind of picture would have been for posting on social media.
But now, Molly sends the best ones to me or shares them in our family group chat, which she insisted we start.
Notifications are going off all the time—mostly because Pat can’t shut up—but I’m not sure how we went so long without a family chat.
And I love that this small, safe space is now where Molly wants to share her life.
“I love it,” she says. “I mean, I know this isn’t the final logo or anything, but the name is perfect. This is going to be amazing.”
The name I landed on after discussing with Molly as well as a team of marketing people is The Oven.
There’s a little nod to Sheet Cake in there, of course, but literally, the summers are roasting here.
Even now that the sun has dipped behind the trees, the temperature holds and sweat gathers on my neck and lower back.
But more than that, the name speaks to the idea that you can have all the right ingredients, but you need heat and time to help put them all together.
That’s what I hope to see with the athletes who come here.
And through my partnership with Jacob and the agency he works for, I feel confident we’ll do just that.
“We’ll break ground in two weeks,” I said. “I think we should have a big party out here to celebrate. But tonight, I just wanted it to be you and me.”
“I’m so proud of you,” Molly says, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. “You’re really doing this.”
“We’re doing it. You and me. Together.”
Gently, I set her down. Molly immediately wraps an arm around my waist and leans into me, patting my chest.
“There’s something else,” I tell her, tugging her closer. “Though I feel like you’ve really helped me realize this dream and it is ours, I want you to have your own dream. I want to gift you what Tank gifted me.”
“You’re going to give me a field?” Molly asks, brow furrowed.
I chuckle. “No. Tank gave me the field, but more than that, he gave me permission and freedom to dream big. And I want to do the same for you. What I’m offering is whatever support you need and the time, freedom, and safety to dream your own big dreams, Molly-girl.”
Her blue eyes search my face as though looking for a catch.
I’m learning that, even with me, Molly’s natural inclination is to expect some kind of catch.
Or strings to any offer. Her dad ensured that this would be her default setting.
But she’s getting better about it, and a smile overtakes her expression as she throws her arms around me in a full hug.
I’ve also learned that Molly really, really loves hugs.
“Thank you,” she says. “But I’m not sure I have big dreams.”
“They don’t have to be big in the eyes of the world or anyone other than you,” I tell her. “Big is a relative term, and it’s about what you really want for you. Not about what anyone else deems grand.”
“What if that dream is not a career but being a mom—raising kids and having a family?” Her question comes out hesitant, like she fully expects me to tell her this dream isn’t good enough.
Meanwhile, my brain is already spinning off into scenarios where I imagine mornings where I’m handing off a cup of coffee to a sleep-rumpled Molly with a gaggle of brown-haired, blue-eyed kids surrounding us. Whether or not she chooses some other career, some other dream, I do love this one.
I press gentle fingers underneath her chin until she lifts her gaze to meet mine.
“That’s just it—you pick the dream. And that’s a great dream, Molly-girl.
Sometimes I think motherhood—or parenthood in general—is afforded less honor than a career.
But it’s an absolutely honorable choice to make. As long as it’s your choice.”
“Ours. I want to make it with you in mind. If this is what you want too.”
I shake my head. “Do I want you to think about your future with me in it? Absolutely. Can I imagine us raising a family together? One hundred percent. But I don’t want you to make a decision about your dreams related to how it fits into my life.
Whatever you choose for you, we’ll make it fit for us.
If you want some kind of career then kids, great.
If you want a career while having kids, awesome.
If you want to forgo some kind of career to focus on a family, also awesome.
Okay? So, make your dreams without having me as some kind of boundary line.
” I stretch my arm toward the field, now shrouded in long gray-purple shadows.
“Give your dreams as much room as they need to grow. And I’ll be right here alongside you. ”
Molly’s smile wobbles a little, and her eyes fill. “That’s the sweetest, best thing anyone has ever said to me, Mr. Biceps.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “Why thank you, sugar.”
Shifting so her back is against my chest, Molly leans into me and lifts my arms to circle her waist. We stare out over the field together.
I’m not sure what she’s imagining, but I’m picturing our future.
A lot of blank space to leave room for dreams and things we may not know about yet. The only certain thing is Molly and me.
“You know,” she says, voice sounding a little sad. “There’s one thing I’m genuinely sad about.”
Though I’m pretty sure I know the answer to this, I ask, “What?”
“The cows. Specifically, Cookie. I was so distracted by the sign and everything that I just realized they’re gone. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
Right on time, I hear the rumble of an engine as a truck pulling a trailer turns down my road. Molly doesn’t seem to notice.
“Aw, you didn’t need to say goodbye,” I tell her.
“Says you. I miss Cookie. He was a good cow.”
“Is. He is a good cow. And I think, technically, he’s a bull. Speaking of …”
Molly finally notices the truck, which pulls past mine and stops a little further up the road by the gate.
“Who’s that?” she asks, then gasps as a familiar black, furry head pokes over the back of the trailer. “It’s Cookie!”
Molly wiggles out of my arms and practically sprints over to the back of the trailer, where Sooey, the pig farmer Molly once arm wrestled, is putting a lead around Cookie’s neck.
It turns out that Sooey was the owner of the cows.
I’d planned to keep Cookie all along, but before I was able to ask Tank who was leasing the pasture for the cows, they got picked up.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long to track them down and to make an offer on a single cow.
Figuring out which cow was Cookie took a little more work. Sooey said it was an impossible task but agreed to let me come out to the new field where he was keeping the herd.
They all looked exactly the same to me—until one singled himself out, came right up to me, and licked my hand. “That’s the one,” I told Sooey, and then probably overpaid for a single cow whose sole purpose in life isn’t milking or meat but just making Molly happy.
Now, Sooey helps lead Cookie out of the trailer while I open the gate. Once he’s secure in the pasture, the cow turns back around and butts his head against Molly’s hand. As usual, demanding scratches.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Sooey says with a shake of his head. “The durn cow acts more like an oversized dog.”
“He sure does,” Molly says in an exaggerated babytalk voice. “That’s my good boy! My Cookie cow.”
“And to think, Sooey—that woman beat you in arm wrestling,” I say, and he laughs.
“I’m happy for a rematch anytime,” Sooey says.
“I think my arm-wrestling days are behind me,” Molly says, shooting me a mock glare. “But I’ll keep that in mind.”
With a last wave, Sooey manages to turn around on the narrow, newly paved road, and he heads back toward town. Cookie finally leaves Molly, venturing out to the field to chomp grass.
“Do you think he’ll be lonely without the rest of the herd?” Molly asks, linking her fingers through mine.
“Nah. He seems to like human company more than cow company. And I have a feeling you’ll be out here a lot. Plus, pretty soon he’ll have a whole bunch of construction workers and then athletes to keep him company. Maybe he could be The Oven’s mascot?”
“Or an honorary trainer?” Molly suggests, and I laugh.
“I think that’s a fabulous idea. I can’t think of anything more motivating to elite athletes than a cow named Cookie being an honorary trainer.”
“I know I personally feel motivated just thinking about it. Also, I’m strangely now in the mood for dessert.”
What I don’t tell Molly as we say our goodbyes to Cookie and head back toward town are the other two secrets I’m keeping.
The first being the ring I’ve had hidden in my dresser for a few days now.
And the second being the fact that I now own the field right across the road from where The Oven will be.
If it turns out that Molly doesn’t want to design our dream home or doesn’t want it to be so close to my business, we can look for somewhere else.
But I couldn’t pass up the deal. Maybe I just have a thing for fields.
Or, I think, glancing over at Molly, who’s now talking excitedly about SOMETHING, maybe I just have a thing for this woman and the idea of dreaming our big dreams together.