21. Tasha
CHAPTER 21
Tasha
T he Palmer City Harvest Moon Festival was an event I looked forward to every year. And this year, it lined up with OktoBrewFest, hosted by Brewski’s, Brenna’s family’s sports bar and grill.
On Saturday, Brenna hosted a themed dance in her event barn after the family closed the grounds for the day. Xavier had bought out a full table: he and Penny; Gabby and Noel; Noel’s mom, Gemma, and stepdad, Coach Conway of the Voltage; and me and Vlad.
I’d opted to meet Vlad here, on the OktoBrewFest grounds, instead of having him pick me up. It made sense; Monty dropped me off on his way to Nana’s Mountainview Manor, where they were having their own version of the Harvest Festival. Xavier had invited him to join us—the tables were capable of seating ten—but Monty declined, citing his anticipation of spending his time with Nana weaving through the pumpkin patch behind the main building .
“There he is!” Penny hissed, pointing toward the entrance within the ropes.
I forced a smile and waved. Vlad was charming, good-looking, and thoughtful. And his love letters were straight swoon and fire.
But there was no chemistry in person.
Zero.
I read on a self-help site that you have to kiss someone to truly test compatibility. So I held out hope for that. Despite four dates now, he hadn’t made a move. Xavier said it was because he wanted to be a gentleman and do everything right with me, but it still didn’t seem right. If he felt as deeply and was as attracted to me as much as his letters claimed, wouldn’t he feel compelled to at least ask me for a kiss?
Vlad hurried over and laced his fingers through mine, then raised our linked hands up to place a kiss on my knuckles.
I should have swooned, right?
Penny seemed on the verge, with one hand on her growing belly, her smile wider than I’d ever seen it and her eyes all googly and emotional.
“Hi,” I said huskily, trying to sound enthusiastic.
“Privet. Hello.” He squeezed my hand. “Shall we stroll through the corn maze?”
“Sure.”
We separated from the group and entered the maze. He towed me down a path that led to a dead end. The moon shone on us. The mood evoked romance. And when he handed me a peach envelope, I prayed his words would flick a switch in my brain that had yet to spark.
Vlad shone his phone’s flashlight on my hands as I removed the letter .
Dearest Tasha, it read.
With every piece of my heart you take, it resets and expands ever larger, fueled by your beauty, your smiles, and your cleverness. Was there ever a woman so perfect? I know not. You light up the day and the darkness within me. My admiration and adoration grow stronger each day, and my soul longs to tell you what my words cannot.
I think I stopped breathing.
“Oh Vlad,” I said, looking up to meet his gaze. “What beautiful words.”
“Beautiful words for a beautiful woman,” he said, angling his head toward mine.
Here we go, I thought. He’s going to kiss me.
Finally.
I lifted on my toes, and our lips met.
It should have been romantic.
It should have lasted longer than a brief touch.
I shouldn’t have felt the urge to gag.
There wasn’t any good explanation why I ended the kiss, other than … it felt wrong.
Very wrong.
I couldn’t explain. I’d wanted this. For weeks, I’d wanted this.
And now that it’d happened, I realized … I didn’t want this.
I opened my eyes, and our gazes locked. I offered a weak smile and took his hand in mine. I needed time to process our lack of chemistry. “Let’s get out of here,” I said. Before he could misinterpret my words, I added, “The barn dance starts in twenty minutes.”
A confused expression crossed his features, but he recovered quickly and squeezed my hand. “I shall woo you with my finely cultivated dance moves.”
Finely cultivated dance moves? His English had improved since I met him, but not for the first time, I wondered about the discrepancy between his everyday speaking, his letters, and the phrases he threw out every now and again. Sometimes, it was hard for me to discern how all three versions of him came together.
Brenna had arranged for the hayride drivers to transport festivalgoers from the town park to the corn maze and to the event barn and back. We opted for the short walk along the lantern-lit path. The October chill had replaced the warm sun, and I pulled my cardigan closed with my free hand until we stepped into line to enter the building.
The OktoBrewFest-themed interior was decorated in blue-and-white-checked cloth and other German accents. Autumn photo backdrops for selfies and group pics were stationed around the perimeter. One featured a pair of wooden hedgehogs perched on top of a tall hay bale, which made me think of Monty and his silly comparison of me to a hedgehog cactus.
The barn dance was a blast. My concerns about Vlad melted away as he led me around the dance floor, through traditional folk dances as well as a waltz and even Monty’s favorite, the chicken dance. My emotions were all over the place, one moment swoony and the other suspicious. When I excused myself to visit the ladies’ room, I took the opportunity to sneak out the side door to catch my breath instead.
I pressed myself to the back of the barn and inhaled the crisp night air into my lungs. My thoughts wandered again to Monty. Was he home yet? Did Nana have a good time in the pumpkin patch?
I pulled my phone out from the side pocket of the exercise leggings I’d worn under my dirndl. Before I could think twice, I sent off a text.
You make it home okay? I asked.
I didn’t have to wait long for his reply. It came through as I stared at the screen. I’m just getting to my car now. These old ladies are party animals. You having a good time?
I didn’t know how to answer. It was fun, but I was still troubled, and I didn’t know why.
Tasha?
I’m here. Just tired.
Want me to pick you up on my way home?
I didn’t hesitate to answer. Yes, please.
Be there in ten.
I rushed back inside, told Vlad I wasn’t feeling well and thanked him for a wonderful time. I kissed him on the cheek, made my excuses to Penny, and hurried out the main door. I didn’t stop walking until I reached Brewski’s.
I dialed Monty. “I’m almost at Main. I can walk the rest of the way home if you’re not close.”
“Stay put. I got you,” he said softly. “You feeling all right?”
“A little queasy,” I croaked. It was true but not for the reasons I was making him think. I felt like a fool running out of there the way I did.
“I see you. I’m going to pull over and get the door for you, okay?”
I nodded. “Thanks.” Monty’s white truck pulled up to the curb like a legendary steed. He hopped out and ran around to the passenger side to open the door for me .
Unable to look him in the eye, I climbed up into the seat and buckled myself in as he shut the door.
“You’re not okay,” he observed, easing back onto the road. “What can I do?”
I swallowed the giant rock in my throat—hard—and shook my head. “Nothing,” I whispered.
“Pharmacy? Urgent care? Your parents? ER?” His voice rose with each suggestion.
I shook my head vehemently, not wanting him to worry. “It’s not a flare-up.”
“What then? You look like you’re going to be sick.”
I drew my knees up to my chest and looked out the passenger-side window. “I feel like I might. But it’s not food-related.”
“Did Vlad—” He cut himself off. “Do I need to beat his backside back to Russia?”
Despite everything, I couldn’t help smiling at the visual. I gave in to the chuckle that bubbled up. Monty kicking Vlad so hard on his rump, sending him sailing into the atmosphere toward Russia, was a funny thing to imagine.
“No. He was…” I thought carefully. “Perfect?”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know.”
Monty steered into the lot and pulled up to the entrance. “Go on up. I’ll park and meet you inside.”
“Okay.”
I exited the car and tapped my keycard on the pad next to the door.
He must have found a close spot, because he was beside me at the elevator bank before the car reached the ground level.
“Come ’ere, fraulein.” He held his arms open, and I walked into his beefy embrace, resting my head on his hard chest, just like I’d done after every breakup except that last one.
Was I breaking up with Vlad? Were we even together? I had no idea.
The elevator arrived, and we shuffled into it. Monty held me close while I tried to make sense of the thoughts in my head. When the doors opened on our floor, he walked me to the door, opened it, took my purse off my shoulder, and guided me to the sofa.
“Sit,” he commanded.
I sat.
He snapped his fingers, and Parfait came running. “Up on the sofa.”
The cat jumped on the cushion next to me, climbed onto my lap, turned in a circle, and began to purr.
I look up at Monty, surprised.
“He’s an emotional support cat, remember?”
Unofficially, I wanted to say. Instead, I nodded and watched Monty hang my purse on the pegs by the door and move into the kitchen. He lit my trio of fall-scented candles, filled the teapot with water, set it on the stove, and turned the setting to high. Next, he left the kitchen and sprinted to his room, emerging a moment later with a box of … hot chocolate?
The teapot whistled. He switched it to another burner. My eyes didn’t leave him as he emptied the premade powder into two mugs and poured the boiled water over it. He topped each mug with a splash of oat milk.
Since when did he drink oat milk?
Monty carried the two mugs into the living area and offered one to me. I took it and closed my eyes, letting the steam warm my face and hoping it would bring me some clarity.
When I raised my head, he wore the same expression I’d seen him set on his Nana when he wouldn’t let her have a particular sweet treat at the Coffee Loft.
I sipped the hot chocolate and frowned. “This isn’t?—”
“It’s certified gluten-free pumpkin spice hot cocoa.”
“You steal it from your nana?” I teased. “I knew you were a closet PSL guy!”
“Nah. It’s not sugar-free. I found it online.”
“Huh. And you’re drinking it?”
“It’s not coffee,” he reminded me and took a sip. “Think Nana would like it?”
I shook my head no. “Absolutely not. It’s terrible.” I watched his face fall into a frown, then added, “I’ll have to drink all of it. To keep her safe from a major life disappointment.”
He laughed, then his face grew serious. “I know a bit about that,” he said.
“I know you do.” I set my mug down on the table. “Mindy’s anniversary is this week.”
“Yeah. And as usual, my parents plan to go about the day like it’s any other.”
“People cope with grief differently,” I said quietly. “I’m sure they’ll be thinking of her.”
“Maybe.” He placed his mug on the table next to mine and rested his arm on the back of the sofa. If I leaned backward an inch, my head would be cradled in the crook of his elbow. “Nana’s not mobile enough yet for me to take her to Mindy’s grave.”
“Oh, Monty.” I looked up at his face. Water pooled beneath his eyes. I slid one arm between his back and the sofa cushion and wrapped the other around his middle. I gave a light squeeze and rested my head on his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
A drop of water landed on the shell of my ear and traveled down to the lobe. I didn’t make a move to wipe it away. I just sat there and held him till my eyes grew heavy and I fell asleep.