Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Then suddenly I’m chatting with Kirk and Bonnie, a married pair with a troublemaking nine-year-old, who’ve gotten close with Juniper over the past few months, as they live in the trailer park across the street from Happy Trails. Then I’m pulled into another conversation by the back door with a loud group of ladies from the church who are on their sixth glasses of wine and have a whole lot of opinions about the state of Spruce, about Anthony, and about why I’d make a fine and wonderful addition to the town.
“Sure don’t take long before you get eaten alive by the town,” says Anthony like a way-too-late warning when I’m in the kitchen helping myself to some chips and dip. I’ve met about ten other faces whose names I can’t even pretend to remember—their faces a blur, too. “Is this all too much?” he asks, worried. “I told Juni this would happen if we tried to have a party. No such thing as a small get-together in this town.”
“I’m enjoying it,” I assure him. “Might need a refresher course on about half their names. I think I met a Frank somewhere …”
“Frankie Lopez. He emceed the bachelor thing this summer.”
“Oh, okay. And … Cole, I think?”
“One of the other bachelors. Good guy. Annoyingly handsome. His boyfriend’s here, too, a shy guy who works for the newspaper. Look, you can do this at your own pace,” he tells me with a pat on my back. “Spruce is gonna try to devour you, but that’s just ‘cause you’re a shiny new toy, and no one really got a good chance to meet you last time you were here.”
“Well, I did meet a few friendly faces on my morning jogs,” I remind him. “The Marvin brothers at the market …”
“Lee and his stern-ass older brother Gene, yeah.”
“Then there were a couple of guys with the last name Love … Timothy, I think one of them was …?”
“They run Country Lovin’, whole bunch of Loves, too many of ‘em, but they make the best damned crepes in the state.”
I pop a chip into my mouth and face Anthony. “But despite all of these amazing people … there are still a couple of very, very important ones I have yet to meet properly … in the flesh.” I give him a look, bringing my face close. “Video chats don’t count.”
He makes a face when he realizes who I mean. “Alright, okay. Don’t you think I plan for you to meet ‘em? They already regard you as the big hero who saved me from becomin’ a dumpster fire this summer. Shoot, no need to go sealin’ the deal so quick by meetin’ them and making my own parents wish you were their son instead of me.”
It’s true. I’ve met them exactly two times via video call. They adore me. It was obvious. I’d become their adopted second son by the next video call already.
But I sure do plan to seal that deal when I finally meet them in person. Maybe as early as tomorrow, if tonight’s plan goes without a hitch.
And if Anthony lets me.
He’s awful skittish about letting me meet his parents …
I peck Anthony on the lips suddenly, startling him. His face goes funny. “Uh, too soon?” I ask, realizing we hadn’t exactly done any PDA in Spruce before.
To that, Anthony instantly dismisses his own sheepishness and returns my peck with a full-on kiss of his own. “Who the hell am I kiddin’?” he asks against my lips. “Everyone knows. And I want everyone to know. I …” Kiss. “… am …” Kiss. “… crazy ‘bout you, Bridger.”
The next kiss we share makes me forget I was just eating chips and dip.
And the kiss after that makes me forget we’re even at a party.
ABBA’s Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) explodes from the Bluetooth speakers in the living room, and I’m so consumed by our kissing, I don’t even notice the whole house singing and dancing along to it with a drunken Juni leading them while hugging Pete against her side like a plushie toy.
After a few hours more, the crowd visibly starts to thin. Soon, only the core clique of Pete, Juni, Cody, Trey, Anthony, and myself remain in the house.
Oh, and also Trey and Cody’s parents.
Who have been seated at the little table by the back door with mugs of coffee, cozily chatting since the last guests left.
And suddenly, after months and months, Trey has reached his seemingly unachievable limit. “Guys, I’m sorry, Dad, Bethie, I’m so sorry, but I … I just can’t anymore.”
Cody, Pete, and myself are sharing Army stories to a glued-together Anthony and Juni in the kitchen when the long overdue outburst happens. We fall silent at once, and then Cody is to his feet to save his husband. “Hey, uh, Trey, honey …”