Chapter 21
“What are your relationship deal breakers?” I ask Westley as we drive along the highway to the farm where his friends are getting married.
Aurora is staying with Callie while we’re away for the night.
They both had the biggest shit-eating grins as they watched us pull out of the driveway.
Westley’s arm reached behind the back of my chair as he reversed.
His cologne washed over me, and I think the way it affected me was written all over my face as my daughter threw her head back and laughed. The little shit.
“Well, you know my stance on kids,” Westley starts, and I hum my agreement. “I would say I’d need her to get on with my parents and to be open with communication. Tell me everything: fears, feelings, goals. I need it all laid out on the table.”
My heart thumps in my chest, like an echo of regret. I’m used to being scared and disappointed when I think back on my past. But now, for the first time, I hate it. Hate that my parents continue to rob a life from me before I even have the chance to decide if I want it.
“What are your relationship deal breakers?” he asks.
“I’ve never had to think about that before.”
“It’s a good thing we’re going through these questions, then. You need to know what you want.” There’s a light-heartedness to his words, mixed with something else. Curiosity, perhaps? As if he wants to possess the answer and make it true.
I fiddle with my bangles, imagining myself in a world where it could be possible. “He has to like Aurora as well. We’re a package deal.”
“Absolutely.”
“And I won’t tolerate drug use.” I can feel West’s eyes on me, but I continue staring out the windscreen.
“That have something to do with your parents?” he asks, and I give him a small nod. “And perhaps with Aurora’s dad?” he adds slowly, as if he’s not sure how far he should push.
I nod again, then clear my throat. “What are your parents’ names?” I ask.
“Chris and Sherie, but everyone calls my mum Chev.”
“Did they name you, or is Westley the name your birth parents gave you?”
“My birth parents named me Cassius,” he reluctantly admits.
My nose scrunches up, and when Westley looks over at me, he barks out a laugh. “Yeah, they didn’t like it either. What are your parents’ names?”
I turn back to my phone, scrolling through the list of questions Westley curated for us that we’ve been slowly getting through over the past few weeks, so we sound like a real couple.
“They’re not in the picture, so you don’t need to know their names.
” I see him nod out the corner of my eye, his fingers flexing around the gear shift. “What’s your love language?”
“Quality time, for sure. And, I guess, acts of service. You?”
My foot bounces as I think back on all the time I’ve been spending with Westley, and all the things I know about myself over time, the things I want.
The things I’m missing. “Quality time for me, too. And… I think physical touch.” Suddenly, my core is pulsing, and the cab of his ute feels smaller. Has he been this close the whole time?
I push on the button to crack the window down a bit and let in some fresh air.
“Physical touch.” There’s a breathiness to his words. “Noted.”
We stay silent for a long stretch of the drive after that. Westley turns up the music, and we keep the conversation light and easy.
Just before two p.m., we pull onto a gravel road. Each side is lined with trees, creating a canopy overhead of filtered sunlight, and just beyond that are fields of green. Rows upon rows of neatly placed bushes as far as the eye can see.
“What kind of farm do they have?” I ask.
Westley mentioned it was on the groom’s family property, but I assumed it would be cattle or pigs. Someone says farm, and my mind goes to Old McDonald, but all I see is what looks like a very extensive garden.
“It’s a berry farm.”
I gasp. “They have whole farms for berries?” Westley laughs at my stunned expression. “Did you go to high school around here?”
Westley shakes his head, slowing the car as we approach the end of the driveway, coming to a fork in the road. “Crew lived in Heart City during his teens. He moved after his parents split, but he came back here about ten years ago to work with his dad.”
A wooden sign ahead points left for the farm and café, while another points right for accommodation. Beside it sits a chalkboard, dressed up with little white flowers saying Crew & Vera’s Wedding, pointing in the same direction as the accommodation.
Westley turns right, and my mind starts spinning with nerves.
We’ve gotten to know each other well enough over the past few weeks.
We’re comfortable around each other in a way I never expected.
Without this need to fake things, I probably would never have allowed myself to get this close to him.
But that’s not what I’m worried about. While we’re here for the wedding, we’re meant to be sharing a room.
I really hope there’s a couch, like Westley assumes, cos I’m not sure how we’re going to go if we have to share a bed.
***
Spoiler alert… there’s no couch.
Westley and I stand side by side, staring at what I’m sure is only a double bed.
“I’ll just grab an extra blanket and sleep on the floor,” Westley sputters. I don’t know if it’s because he thinks I’m freaking out about the one bed, or if he is.
“West, that’s silly, you should take the bed.” I glance up at him briefly, then cross to the side of the room to dump my bag on the bench under the window. “I bet I’ve slept on floors and other questionable surfaces far more than you. My back can handle it.”
An antique cupboard stands beside the window. I pull open the doors and find extra pillows and a pile of thick, soft blankets.
“Ah, look! This will be perfect.” I start pulling out the blankets when a heavy hand lands on mine.
“Absolutely not,” West says, his eyes turning dark and stormy. “I’m not sleeping on the bed while you sleep on the floor.”
“Well, back at ya.” I cross my arms over my chest, one eyebrow raised in challenge.
We stare at each other until West blows out a breath, his shoulders dropping in defeat. “Why don’t we just share the bed? We’re only sleeping, for God’s sake.”
I think a whole minute passes before I blink again. I look past West, back at the narrow bed in question.
“It’s a really small bed,” I whisper.
“We’ll put a few pillows in between us. Plus, with all the driving today and how late the wedding will go, I bet we pass out the second our heads hit the pillows anyway.”
“I’ve never shared a bed with a man,” I say in a low voice.
His eyes go wide. “How is that… possible?”
“I-I told you, I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
“Not even with Aurora’s dad?” The second he finishes the question, his eyes bug out of his head. “Fuck! Sorry, don’t answer that. That’s none of my business.” He huffs then turns away, fetching his bag from the end of the bed and placing it beside mine.
“We should probably start getting ready.” West looks at his watch. “The ceremony starts in two hours. That’s enough time for you, right?”
“In case you forgot”—I smile as I fetch my makeup bag from my luggage—“I do makeup for a living. I’m pretty quick at putting myself together at this point.”
He does that little side smile of his, the left corner of his mouth hooking up where it hides in his beard. I really like that smile.
“How could I forget? I’m gonna grab our clothes from the car while you get started.
Do you want me to see if I can get us some drinks while we get ready?
” Our wedding clothes were hung up in the back seat so they didn’t get crinkled during the drive.
I spotted the beige linen jacket of Westley’s suit, and a few times during the drive, my mind strayed to imagining what he’d look like all dressed up.
I shake my head. “I’m okay. I won’t put my dress on until right before we go, so I can wait if you want to get one for yourself.”
“Okay. I’ll be back.”
I watch him leave, then take a final look at that damn bed before I mentally slap myself for overthinking it and march over to the bathroom to get ready.
Thirty-five minutes later, I’m doing the final turn of my curling iron when the door to our room opens.
“Sorry!” Westley calls out. I step out of the bathroom, watching as he gently lays our clothes down on the bed.
“I ran into Phil and his wife, Rachel. Had to give him the cannoli I promised. I can’t wait for you to meet Rachel.
I think you’ll really like—” He freezes the second he looks up at me. “Wow. You look beautiful.”
In all my life, I’ve never had someone look at me the way he does.
It’s intense with curiosity and dedication.
So brutally honest, and I wonder if it’s all wasted on me.
There’s so much he, and everyone else, doesn’t know about me, and I don’t know if I have the strength to share it.
I don’t know if I’m brave enough to risk the way things might change if I do.
At least this is all for pretend, so it doesn’t really matter.
But I like the way he’s been slipping through the cracks.
I like the way my eyes seek out his company, my mind waits for his words, and my heart stockpiles all the little moments he makes it beat faster.
“Thanks.” I step towards him and reach down to pick up my dress. He tries to beat me to it, making our fingers brush, and it’s like lightning strikes up my arm, through my chest, and all the way down to my toes.
“I’ll get changed in the bathroom,” he says, eyes still darting around my face and taking me in.