Enzo
I know from the grapevine that Oliver has been back home for a few days. Joni only sent me one update, the day after I drove away from them in Rose Creek, letting me know that out of all the bad possibilities, it was the worst bad, and he was going to be okay.
That’s it: the worst bad. As if that was a complete update. I didn’t push for more because I knew the worst bad was still bad, and she obviously still had a lot to deal with. She didn’t need me bothering her for details.
But I thought she’d at least let me know when he came home. I’ve been patient, trying to give her space to recover from the whole ordeal, but this is bullshit! I’m going over there.
Her truck’s home, so I pull in. I sit for a few breaths before I get out, thinking over all the different ways this could go. Not even the worst possible scenario makes me want to back out of the driveway and leave.
When she doesn’t answer after my second knock, I assume she’s out back with Oliver, but I try the knob out of curiosity. It turns. Not locked. Dammit, Joni.
I step inside and immediately notice the smell.
It’s earthy and a little sweet, but not like a candle.
There’s a chemical tinge to it. What the hell is that?
The smell gets stronger the farther I walk into the house.
If she’s cooking something, I’m pretty sure it’s inedible.
I’m also sure I’ve smelled this before, but I can’t place it.
My feet stop at the edge of the kitchen. Wallpaper glue.
So much yellow.
She’s staring at her newly wallpapered breakfast nook with her back to me. “I should’ve known you’d let yourself in if I didn’t come to the door.”
“If the door had been locked, I’d still be on the porch.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You’d be in my pasture, looking for me.”
“True. You might want to open a window. The smell of wallpaper glue is pretty strong in here.”
“Yeah, they just left about ten minutes ago. That smell is worth it, though. Don’t you think?” She finally looks back at me.
“If you like it, I love it.”
“Why can’t you just be honest?”
“I’ve never been anything but honest with you. You’re the one who runs from the truth.”
“I’m not running from anything, Enzo. We can’t be together. It would never work.”
“Why not? Give me one fucking real reason, Joni. And not the age thing.”
“You’re not even thirty yet, and—”
“I said not the age thing!”
“The age thing matters! You’re going to want a family someday but—”
“Don’t fucking presume to know what I want when we’ve never even talked about that. I don’t want kids, okay?”
“You’ll change your mind, and I don’t want to be—”
“I’m the oldest of four. My dad died when I was fourteen, and I had to help raise my siblings after that.
Maybe that awakens an instinct in some people that makes them want a family of their own, but it did the opposite for me.
I had to start raising kids when I was still one myself.
I love my siblings, but I’ve never wanted kids of my own. Never. So, what’s your next excuse?”
“I didn’t know you had to do that. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry that I had to help out with my brothers and sister. Shit happens, and people do what they have to do, but if you’re apologizing for your giant assumption, apology accepted.”
“Things change, Enzo. I was a completely different person at your age than I am now. It’s not an excuse. It’s a valid reason.”
“Of course you’re a different person. Life experiences change people. Neither of us can predict the future, but I am fucking miserable without you in my life right now. Tell me you’re happier without me around, that you don’t want me in your life.”
She tries to turn toward the window again, but I grip her shoulder mid-turn. “Don’t turn away from the question. Look at me when you answer it. Tell me you don’t feel what I feel.”
“You said it yourself; there’s a lot we don’t know each other.”
“Then let’s change that. Let’s keep getting to know each other.
If we learn something along the way that’s a deal killer for one of us, we can go our separate ways.
But why stop seeing each other now? Why deny ourselves a chance at something that might never go wrong? What if things just kept going right?”
“That’s not realistic. Things don’t always go right. We’ll piss each other off at some point, whether you want to believe—”
“Hell, I’m pissed off at you right now, beautiful. I’m mad, but I’m not walking away without a fight.”
“I don’t want to fight with you, Enzo.”
“Because you don’t care enough to bother? If that’s true, look me in the eye and make me believe it.”
“If we get attached—”
“I’m already attached. So are you. You’re just scared, and I don’t understand why.
I’m not proposing. I’m just asking you to keep going to dinner with me, to keep sitting next to me on the couch, to keep letting me help when you need it, to keep enjoying those earth-shaking orgasms I provide .
. .” I let that last request linger before I add another one.
She drops her gaze to the floor and laughs. “Why do you have to make it so goddamn hard to say no to you?”
“Make it easy on us both and say yes.”
“That’s not as easy as you make it sound.”
“It’s one fucking syllable. How hard can it be? Try it. If it feels wrong, I’ll let you take it back.”
She looks directly at me. “Yes.”
I wrap my arms around her and squeeze until her feet lift off the ground.
“You didn’t wait to be sure I wasn’t going to take it back.”
“You knew I didn’t mean that shit.” I set her feet back on the ground and look into her misty eyes. “I was always going to hold you to that yes.”
“Well, lucky for you, I don’t think I want to take it back.”
“You don’t have to tell me how lucky I am to be holding you right now. I know.” I lower my face to kiss her, but what I see in her pasture stops me in my tracks. “Um, did they give Oliver a medication that turned him brown?”
“Yeah. It’s a rare side effect, but totally worth it to save his life.”
I smile because nothing could prove her comfort level more than that quick-witted, smartass response. She’s definitely comfortable with her yes.
“Where did that new alpaca come from, Joni?” As soon as I’ve asked, a tan one runs up and bumps the brown one. They take off, playing chase. Oliver joins in, and I think maybe I already know what I’m seeing. “I mean, those two new alpacas.”
“That’s Oscar and Ophelia. They live here now. They had other names, but they didn’t respond to them, so I decided to give the whole herd names that start with O. I have a herd. It’s a small one, but it’s big enough.”
“So, you’re a package deal now, huh?”
“I always was.”
“I know. And it’ll take more than three alpacas to scare me off.”
“Oh, yeah? How many would be a deal killer?”
“I don’t know yet, but it’s not three.”
“Tell me how you really feel about my wallpaper now that it’s on the wall.”
“I feel like it’s still incredibly yellow, like it’s nothing I ever would’ve picked, but it doesn’t matter because at the end of the day because if you like it, I love it.
I know you think I’m saying that to avoid the truth, but that is the truth.
I don’t love it in the way that I’d love something I chose for myself, but I do love it because it makes you happy, and I love your happiness. ”
“If you keep treating me like a princess, I might start acting like one.”
“Told you I’d unlock your inner princess someday. But if you’d rather, we can go to bed and I’ll mistreat you in all sorts of ways.”
“Let’s pick up where we left off last time, before we got interrupted by a screaming alpaca.”
“As I recall, I was treating you like a princess when that happened.”
“Start there, and we’ll see where it goes.”
“You got it, princess. But first, I’m going to open some windows so if you lose consciousness, I’ll know it was all me.”