Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ASH
I wake up to see a text from Rusty time-stamped 5 a.m.
RUSTY
Morning, Gorgeous. Matt has the stomach flu, so I'm at the Farmer's Market in Orangeburg. Can I make you dinner tonight?
I squeal.
ASH
Hmm. That's tough. I have a busy schedule today of making awesome content and dyeing Pookie's hair.
Prairie
Nice try. I heard you call her Pookie.
Stockholm syndrome.
I stayed at your house. You were MY captor.
We both know you took over my place.
GASP!
Protest all you want. That bathroom has your name written all over it.
Geez Louise. A girl writes her name on the mirror in lipstick one time…
You wrote it twelve times in the shape of a heart around my side of the mirror.
*gif of little girl grinning*
You don't hear me complaining.
*blushing face emoji*
Gotta run. These peaches won't sell themselves.
Go forth and sell. 3
I hesitate, wanting to add one more thing but not sure if it's pushing us into unchartered territory. My finger raps against my teeth and then I remember our kiss …
That kiss …
My hesitation evaporates.
Miss you.
His response is immediate.
Miss you, too .
Waiting is a fate worse than death, so I walk around the house and find Lou on the deck, strumming her guitar and singing.
I collapse onto one of the chairs across from her and put my legs on the table between us.
"Look at you drunk on love," Lou says. "Tell me everything."
Thirty minutes of play-by-play detail later, Lou is smiling like a fool, and I'm floating.
"You like him," Lou says.
"I know! I do. I'm obsessed with him. He's all I can think about. I was trying to make another reel — and you know how much I love making reels! — but I was useless. I couldn't stop thinking about that kiss."
"It was that good?"
Just thinking about it makes me feel like I've been dipped in hot oil.
"He kissed me the way a man kisses a woman, not a friend kisses another friend. It was the stuff of storybooks and YouTube channels dedicated to scorchingly hot first kiss scenes. We're talking Jess and Nick. Luke and Lorelai. Veronica and Logan. Heck, Jim and Pam! Every toe-curling, goosebump-raising, delicious first kiss in history."
Lou sighs. "I've never been kissed like that."
"You've never been kissed like anything ."
Lou glares at me. "Not the point. The point is that you know how much I love being right about everything. I told you so."
"You told me nothing."
"I did too! At Sonny's nonna's wedding. I told you you'd either get it or you wouldn't. You got it."
"Is that what you guys were all talking about? Me and Rusty?"
"Yes! What did you think we were talking about?"
"His abs! Sonny was trying to convince me that Rusty's tummy waffles are better than his. "
"And why would he do that?" Lou leads.
"Because Sonny is humble?"
"HA! All right, in a weird way, I guess he is. But no. Think about it. Why would Sonny and Millie and Jane and all of us talk about Rusty's tummy waffles?"
"Because … you guys wanted me to see Rusty as an object of desire?"
Lou snorts at my description. "Did it work?"
"Not because of his abs. I haven't even seen them yet! And we were in a hot tub together! Well, cold tub. Ice tub?"
"Ice bath."
"That."
"How did you end up in an ice bath with him and not see his abs?"
"I thought it was a hot tub and basically froze to death."
"It's May in the South, sugar."
"It's called hyperbole, Lou, and it's the best friend I've ever had in my entire life," I say. Lou laughs again.
"Okay, okay,” she says. “Rusty's hot, and you finally got it."
"Oh, I got it, all right. I got it bad." I flop backwards over the arm of my chair. "What if he doesn't feel the same way?"
"He does," Lou says, waving my concern away. "No question."
"Tiny question."
"Only because you, my sweet, sweet friend, are oblivious. He's been into you since y'all met."
“He friend-zoned me!”
“He was protecting his heart.”
I kick my legs in the air and squeal. I look at Lou — upside down — and her upside down smile feels off. I flip back over. "When are you gonna admit your crush on Connor Nash?"
She sits up. "I have no crush."
"Right, because you haven't had a thing for him since you were in high school."
"Everyone had a thing for him in high school. "
"Yeah, but not everyone can do something about said crush. You know him in real life now. He texts you almost every day."
"Girl, please," Lou says, plucking a baleful tune on her guitar. "Crushes and feelings ruin careers. That won't be me."
"You know, your parents have a beautiful love story. It doesn't have to be yours, but it's still beautiful."
"It is beautiful, and it won't be mine," Lou says, still strumming. "By the way, I went by Maple Street this morning, and it was packed . The busiest I’ve ever seen it."
"Haha! Snack on that for lunch, Teddy!"
"Teddy?" she asks. "Not Philip?"
"Who can care about Philip?"
She smiles. "You got it bad, all right."
"I can't believe I ever liked such jerks."
"Neither can the rest of us. I blame Frank."
"I should block Frank," I say.
"Seconded."
Parker and Sonny appear from inside the house. "What are we seconding?" Parker asks.
"If Ash should block Frank on social media."
"Man, I hate Frank," Sonny says.
He and Parker join us around the table. She sits on his lap. These two may not be racing to the altar like Millie and Duke did, but after seven years apart — seven years of pining and missing each other — they don't spend any more time apart than they have to.
"I vote you block him," Sonny continues. "Why give him access to comment on your life? It wasn't a friendly divorce and he's not interested in anyone but himself."
"And this is coming from Mr. Sunshine," Lou says. "Sonny loves everyone. Listen to the man."
"PJ, what do you think?" Sonny asks.
Parker chews the inside of her cheek. "Do you think your relationship can be redeemed? "
I know where Parker's question is coming from. Her parents were beyond neglectful to her, and when she and Sonny finally got back together, she drew a hard line in the sand with them.
And surprisingly, they're trying. They're making efforts to be in her life on her terms. It's not great, but it's progress, and the fact that Parker is willing to grant them the space to progress is probably the most impressive thing about my literal genius friend.
But Frank isn’t them.
"He's never tried,” I say. “He didn't want shared custody. He refused to take me out for my birthday or come to my parties, yet he'd post on social media on big days and would tag me in it and say how much he missed me. He’d go on about how hard divorce was on him that he had to miss milestones like this. He lived two miles from us! Mom invited him to the house for parties and graduations! He didn't care about me. He only wanted people to think he was a successful dad whose nasty ex and her evil new husband took his daughter from him."
I pull up social media and go to my dad's page. It's nothing but his golf scores, the deals he closed, and posts like, "My NEW family knows how to treat their 'old man'" with pictures of them showering him with presents on his birthday or Father's Day. It's funny that Rusty has an issue with men who get plastic surgery, because whatever work Mayor Teddy has gotten doesn't compare with how much my dad has.
The pictures on his page are all of them looking perfect . Everyone is the right shade of blond, his new wife's hair is flat-ironed without a single frizz. They wear rolled up jeans and white shirts on the beach and act so surprised when the waves hit their feet. They all know how to pose for pictures, and no one would ever stick their tongue out at the camera like my family did during our last family picture. While Greg stands behind my mom in pictures, Frank is front and center in every single one .
Millie has always said my dad has all the markers of actual narcissistic personality disorder, while Philip has more anti-social traits. I don't know what any of that means, but I know I'm tired of wanting crappy men to love me.
I want the best guy I've ever known to love me.
"Yeah, it's time to block him. I don't want his garbage cluttering up my feed anymore."
"Yes! That's my girl," Lou says, tackle-hugging me from her chair. She squeezes the breath out of me. "If Rusty can make you see yourself accurately in barely a week, imagine what a lifetime could do."
"Are we openly talking about this now?" Sonny asks. "Because I've been rooting for you two since the second I met Rusty."
"He really has," Parker says. "It's getting in the way of wedding planning at this point. You need to do something about it.”
I chuckle. "Good idea. I'm craving farm fresh produce. Anyone want to hit up a Farmer's Market in Orangeburg with me?"
Sonny raises his hand, Parker nods, and Lou puts down her guitar. "And watch you and the fake-fake boyfriend flirt? Yes, please."
As I drive my friends to Orangeburg, Sonny tells us about the last time he visited Rusty at the Farmer's Market, only a couple of weeks ago.
"You've visited Rusty at work?" I ask.
"Yeah, I go whenever he's doing a site visit. Y'all have Sugar Maple stuff at the house all the time. How do you get it?"
My cheeks get hot. "Rusty brings them over."
"Every week," Lou adds. "Don't feel bad about it. "
"I should feel bad. I've taken advantage of him."
"He wishes," Sonny says, and everyone else laughs.
"I'm serious. He told me I'm the most important person in his life, but I didn't know that he was over a huge chunk of Tripp's business. I've swung by the farm plenty of times but I've never gone with him to sell at a fruit stand. I haven't stopped by the warehouse or even asked him about work. I thought he preferred our work. I've been a horrible friend."
"I'm pretty sure his only complaint with you is that you're not his wife," Lou says.
"I notice you're not contradicting me."
"Because I don't have anything to add. Beating yourself up about the past isn’t productive. You want to be more involved in his life, so you're taking steps to do it. Move forward, sugar."
"You are so practical, it hurts. How are you so good at lyricizing when you can do," I wiggle my fingers toward her in mild disgust, "this."
"Because I'm also a master of compartmentalizing, rationalizing, and intellectualizing. All the -izings, really."
"You're brilliant and I hate you."
"Love you, too," Lou says. We're coming up on Chick Hanks' house when suddenly, a bloom of yellow smoke appears in the air. I pull over and we all rush out to see Chick standing over the gopher holes with a gas mask on.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
He looks up at me with crazed eyes. "They keep coming back! No matter what I do, the varmints keep coming back. But I got 'em this time. I'm gonna smoke 'em out. And if they don't leave, I'll set the whole thing on fire!"
He lights another smoke bomb and throws it in the gopher hole. We watch him drop them into each of the holes. "Chick, those ain't the right smoke bombs!" Lou says, shaking her head.
But Chick is too busy laughing to overhear. He's also too busy laughing to notice that the gophers have popped out of a hole in the grass strip between the sidewalk and his fence line.
"Chick, have you checked for holes out here?" I gesture to where we're standing on the other side of his fence.
"It doesn't matter," he says, his laughter bordering on mania. "Because the smoke bombs'll kill the little buggers!"
"Chick," Lou says, "Those are firework smoke bombs, not gopher gassers."
Chick's laughter stops. "Come again?"
"My papaw had to gas some when I was a kid and they'd destroyed his garden. There's a special gas specific for ground rodents. Not smoke bombs"
"No!" Chick grabs his forehead. "It's never gonna end. They're gonna dance on my casket at my funeral."
Parker coughs a laugh. Chick looks so forlorn, I almost hop the fence to give him a hug. But then he marches over to his shed and brings out a jar of what looks like gasoline.
We look on in horror as he pours it in a hole, lights a match, and? —
BOOM.
Chick flies backward, and Sonny's immediately over the fence pulling him out of the way of the flaming bonfire-in-a-hole.
Sonny rips off Chick's hat — WHICH IS ON FIRE — and beats it against the grass to stamp it out. "Are you okay?" he asks.
Chick starts laughing and feels his face. "Lost my doggone eyebrows, but it was worth it."
I don't have the heart to tell him the gophers will be back tomorrow.
When we pull up to the Farmer's Market, I spot Rusty, and a huge smile takes over my face .
"Smitten kitten," Lou mumbles.
"Guilty," I say.
The Sugar Maple Farms stall is beyond busy. A constant stream of customers hand him cash or cards, and he moves boxes and flats of fruits, jams, salsas, and butters with the efficiency of a conveyor belt. He's so capable, but he's also funny. He cracks jokes about plums, about dinner parties, whatever the customer mentions. He's quick and charming, and he still takes time to train his helper, who looks like a high schooler.
This is my Rusty.
I debate getting in line, but I see three college-aged girls giggling over him, and I'm filled with the sudden urge to throw rotten tomatoes at them. Not that Rusty would ever sell rotten tomatoes.
"AJ, those girlies are gunning for your man," Lou says.
Rusty smiles politely as MacBeth's witches cackle about his backside.
Not today, witches.
(For the record, I'm not into women hating women. But these are desperate times.)
"Hey Farm Boy," I say loudly.
Rusty beams like a spotlight has been trained on him. It's beyond gratifying to see his eyes rove over me. This is new. Rusty's eyes never rove over me. He's always strictly friendly. The thought of him being so overcome by my presence that he can't stop himself is like throwing a match in the gas-filled gopher hole that is my heart.
"Gorgeous," he says appreciatively.
I round the stand and he holds his arms out to me. I run the last couple of steps and jump into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. He kisses me firmly on the mouth, and I stop caring about the women watching us jealously. He squeezes my legs, gives me two more soft kisses, and then sets me down.
Rusty looks as happy as I've ever seen him. He's become so much less reserved over the last ten days. It can't be an act. It can't be.
"What are you doing here?" he asks with a smile.
"I told you I missed you. So I thought I'd help today."
"Uh, we were just coming to say hi,” Parker says, waving at Rusty. "How are we getting home?"
"You can take my car," I say. "Rusty can drive me."
"We can take your car?" Lou says. "You don't let people drive your car. Ever. We have to shake dirt out of our shoes before we get in."
"So shake the dirt off your shoes before you drive back home," I say, my eyes on Rusty's.
"That is love," Lou mutters to Parker. I blush, but Rusty drops his head, and I smooth his hair back like always.
It's like our signature move.
"Excuse me," one of the three girls says. "Can we get some help?"
"I'll be right with you," Rusty says. His hazel eyes dance between mine. "Are you ready to work?"
"With you?" I ask. His hands tighten on my back, and the rightness of us cements itself in my mind. "Always."