Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
He frowns. “Explain it?”
“I can’t,” I say with a shake of my head.
“Please.”
I take a deep breath and set the bear on the top of my car, relenting. “It goes like banana, banana, ban-anna-anna-anna. Just over and over again.” I repeat it, wriggling my hips this time. On the third time, I jump from side to side, my hands in the air overhead and pointing upwards, imitating a long banana.
Or a deranged rocket ship.
His lips twitch. They fall flat but then twitch again. He finally loses the battle and grins so hard that a dimple pops out. “I see.”
I see too. That dimple. His lips. It’s impossible not to laugh a little and smile, too, just because looking at him is like looking into the sun, and the sun is vital for all things that are living. My stomach bottoms out, my nipples bottom out, my bottom bottoms out.
“Can you forgive me for this?” I ask quietly.
His smile drops but doesn’t fade away. Well, a ghost of a smile is better than no smile. His eyes aren’t angry either, and they’re not burning with the desire for retribution. “I’m floored that my daughter loves me enough to go to these lengths for me.” Of course he’d say that. Think it. Feel it. He can find meaning in what other people would only see as betrayal and be wounded by. “And how you love her so much that you agreed to help. I’m so glad she has someone there for her, someone who loves her for her and who sees her and cherishes her.”
“I do. I do very much.” My hand flies to my lips, which I swear have become a hornet’s nest of buzzing activity. They’re still electrified after that kiss. My whole body is a clap of thunder after bursts of lightning. I don’t want to comment on what’s clapping. “I…I kissed you.”
“Yes.” That’s neither certain nor uncertain, but I’m certain of one thing.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen, but I did mean it. I don’t know what to do with that. We should probably just…take some time and decompress. And go for cookies and tea because I promised we would. I have to talk shop if I’m bringing my nightmare bear home with me.”
“In all my years picking, that is the most haunted being I have ever encountered.”
“Real talk? That’s shocking.”
He laughs, taking a step toward the house. He waits for me to catch up with him as I bring the bear and fall in beside him. He naturally slows his long strides so I can keep up. He probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it.
At the porch, he pauses. “Thank you for being honest with me.” He’s facing the front door, but my heart trips over itself, and I become breathless all the same.
“Thank you for not finding another more haunted item to one-up me and also hex me.”
“Never.” He turns, his face dead serious but kind too. “Also, I don’t think you’re a fraud. You don’t have to be in love to be a great wedding planner. Part of being a good person is knowing your faults and flaws and growing from there. That doesn’t have much to do with weddings, at least ones that aren’t your own. You’re probably a great wedding planner because you pay attention to detail. You’re organized, you’re compassionate, you listen, and you care. You believe in love, and you believe in celebrating someone else’s happiness instead of being jealous of it. That’s huge.”
I want to take that and let it soak in, but I’m so used to finding one more thing to fix about myself that it’s hard.
“I think you’re doing just fine,” he encourages, not letting me spiral. “Didn’t you just tell me there’s always room for good things on top of good things? If you stop growing and searching and learning about the world and about yourself, then that’s an ego problem, and it’s a bad spot to be. You’re so far from there.”
I’m going to cry again. And this time, it’s going to be ugly crying tears. “How do you know exactly what to say?”
“I guess because I’m banana, banana, ban-anna-anna-anna.” He wriggles his hips just like I did, which makes me burst out laughing. “Let’s go barter for your haunted bear.”
We walk up the porch together, but before he knocks on the door, I blurt out the neediest, most pathetic thing ever. “Please tell me this isn’t the last time I’ll see you.”
He doesn’t touch me. He’s not close enough that any of our body parts are even in danger of brushing against each other, but his face softens, and it’s his freaking aura that reaches out to me. I swear, it’s a real thing.
“It won’t be. I promise,” he says.
There’s a huge but in there. But I can’t press. Like the poisonous snake’s anal scales, it’s not a good idea to dig underneath and examine it. Is that even real? I’m starting to doubt myself. Don’t believe everything you read online.