Page 92 of Love You Truly

The longer she looks at me, the more I wonder what she sees. I try to picture myself from her point of view. Ponytail hair with straggling tendrils flopping against my face, dirt on my arms and legs because I’m bad at gardening. She probably sees a farming failure.

“You are amazing,” she says. “I’ve always seen that in you, and I see it now. You’re amazing and capable.”

“Thanks.” I’ll take the compliment, even if it comes after I twisted myself into knots to make myself believe it.

She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to do it alone. I know you think that makes me sexist, but it’s not about that.” She stares off into the distance, which is easy since our land is flat. We can see all the way to the mountains from here in both directions.

“I figured it was because you thought I wasn’t capable.”

“No. You’re too capable. You don’t need a man in your life or anyone else for that matter, but I hoped for more for you. I wanted you to have a connection like the one I have with your dad. I wanted you to fall in love.”

“I did.”

Standing there with my hoe, working the land, I think I have it all together, so it surprises me when I burst into tears. They come rolling, accompanied by sobs, and my mom does what only moms know how to do. She holds me and lets me cry it out while she smooths my hair and tells me she loves me.

After a minute, the sobs subside, and my mom loosens her grip. Putting her hands on top of my shoulders, she speaks directly into my face. “I’m sorry for pushing Felix on you. I just wanted you to have some help, and he was here telling us he’d do that for you.”

“I hate him.”

She nods. “Somehow…I didn’t know that. I am sorry.”

“Sorry enough to amend the contract and get him out of my life?”

“I don’t?—”

I cut her off. “It’s okay, Mom. I know it’s already been signed and executed. It’s just a bunch of grapes. It’ll be okay.”

Underfoot, I feel the earth that I fought so hard to take over, and I feel grateful to my parents for making me work for it even though I didn’t understand the method behind their ways. But now, as I stand here, I understand that it’s not enough.

It’s not enough to plot world domination alone, not when there’s a man who loves me and wants to plot it with me.

When I look at my mom again, I find her beaming at me as though she’s proud of my hoeing. Which is impossible because I suck. So it must be something else. “What?” I ask.

“You can have everything you want. But sometimes you have to loosen your grip a little bit, that’s all. If it’s the right thing, it’ll be yours. That’s how it’s worked all these years with your dad and me.”

Her philosophical advice is opaque, but at least she’s staying on brand. I interpret it to mean that if I love something, I need to have a little faith. Maybe even set it free.

I owe Dash the truth, even if it means risking my heart. So I go for broke. Or, in my case, broken glass.

Walking through Sunshine Foods, I can’t help but think about the day Dash saved me from crashing to the floor into a sea of glass and pickle juice. I was such a bitch that day, embarrassed and frustrated. I didn’t even ask him if he was hurt.

Today, I make a beeline for the pickle display, which is right there on the endcap of an aisle, just begging to be knocked over again. You’d think they’d learn from the past.

I grab one jar of tiny dills and pay for it at the checkout. Then I go home and write Dash a note.

CHAPTER 35

Dash

I come home to a jar of pickles on my porch and a sealed envelope. Inside, I find our marriage certificate and a note that reads, “Buttercup Hill can have all the grapes it needs. You’re free to tear up this fake document because I love you for real.”

CHAPTER 36

Mallory

I’m not expecting anyone at my door, but over the past few months, I’ve gotten way more accustomed to people just showing up. And knocking.

When I look through my newly installed peephole, I see Dash on my porch holding a fistful of sunflowers. I open the door.

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