Thursday dinner is underway, and I’m still only halfway conscious.
Shit.
I rise and take a little care getting dressed. I put on a nice linen shirt and my best pair of shorts. In Vermont, that’s practically black tie. I brush my teeth and tame my slept-on hair.
And when I look in the mirror, I’m startled by how sharp the guy looking back at me appears. I mean, I’m a good-looking man. That’s a given. But the guy in the mirror looks solid. When in truth, I feel like a hot mess.
This afternoon, a door slammed, and I’d practically lost my mind. Who does that?
I grab my flip-flops and descend the stairs toward the laughter and the voices. When I exit the kitchen door, I see that I haven't even missed dinner. A very long dining table has been arranged in the grass. It’s set with real dishes and silverware. Running down the center are a parade of mason jars. In every other one are flowers from the garden that I’ve helped weed. And there are candles in the alternating jars, burning where the wind can’t knock them out.
A dozen or so people stand around on the grass, drinks in hand. The rain showers have knocked a lot of the humidity out of the air, so it's a beautiful night for an outdoor dinner party.
And I feel nothing. Like I fell asleep and never fully woke up. Like I forgot how to feel alive.
“Hey, there he is.” Dylan taps a frisbee against his thigh. “What happened to you this afternoon?”
“I took a nap, and it almost killed me.” I cross to where he’s standing. Nearby, Chastity is chatting with Daphne’s cousin and the cousin’s boyfriend—the guys we saw at the noodle shop.
“Want a beer?”
“Of course.” Dylan fetches one from a metal tub full of ice, and opens the top with a church key in his pocket. “Thanks.” When I close my hand around the bottle, the sensation of the icy glass against my palm is the first sign that I might eventually be alive.
I take a refreshing sip as my gaze wanders around the lawn of its own volition. But I don't see Daphne anywhere. What the hell must she be thinking right now? I came at her like a beast today. I talked a good game. And then I got spooked, and couldn’t close the deal.
My face heats at the memory of jumping away from her on the bed, like I’d just been tasered. Then I collapsed on the bed, panic crushing my chest. I was instantly clammy, as if someone had drained all the life out of my body. My heart had raced so fast that it honestly felt dangerous. All I could do was lie on the bed and try to remember how to breathe.
“So what did you guys do today?” Dylan asks. “You and Daphne.”
“Why?” I bark.
Dylan shrugs. “Chastity and I came in after the rain, and there was nobody at home. Those pies were just sitting there on the table, you know? I feel like I deserve some recognition for not sampling.”
I make a shocked face. “Hands off my pies. Who knew those took so much work? And I’m no good at rolling them out, so your sister literally pried the rolling pin out of my hands and forbid me to touch the crust.”
“Daphne? Nah.” Dylan snickers.
“Then your mom took your grandfather to some event in town. And the wind was kicking up, so it didn’t look like a good gardening day. So we were going to have sex but then we said nah.”
Dylan snorts then shakes his head, just like I knew he would. “I know you say these things to freak me out, but it doesn't really work on me. You’ll have to try Griffin.”
“Good to know.” I swig my beer. “Actually, it started raining, and then I turned into Rip Van Winkle. What did you do all day?”
“Drew a bunch of diagrams of the Abrahams’ fields. Googled crops and acreage. But then the rain chased us back into the bunkhouse for some recreational activities.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Planning out your future farm makes you horny?”
Dylan shrugs, smiling. He was always a happy guy. But he and Chastity are #squadgoals. Seventy years from now they’ll be that ancient couple who’s still holding hands in the grocery store.
I’ll be lucky to be alive in seventy years. And forget having a partner of my own. I’m such a wreck.
“Dinner is served!” Ruth Shipley clinks a spoon against