Page 37 of Sweatpants & Sweet Tea

Farm Strong was tagged in it since I didn’t have a personal IG account and Daphne was, too. I’d looked her up earlier today, but I found myself clicking on her name again. The majority of the photos on her wall were of sunsets, beaches, food, and several group shots of people at dinner, singing karaoke, going hiking, and other various activities. I scrolled down to double-check if there were any photos of her with men. I hadn’t seen any earlier, but it wouldn’t hurt to give it another gander.

There were no photos of guys, except for in groups. She’d said she didn’t want a relationship, so the fact that she was gone shouldn’t bother me as much as it did. But, I couldn’t help it. I just wanted more time with her. I wish she was still here.

But, as Grandad always says, “A wish and a dime’ll get ya ten cents.”

17

DAPHNE

“Thanks again for inviting me out.”I buckled my seatbelt and turned to Nadia as we headed to Southern Comfort.

When I’d gone to return her dress this afternoon, I’d filled her in on my new plans to be in town for the next few weeks, and she’d insisted on me coming out to Girls’ Night with her. I’d considered declining, but if I did that, it would mean spending the evening with Aunt Rhonda, which would be fine if she was working at the Moore Moonshine stand on the pier. However, she’d taken the night off because she was still tired from the gala.

At dinner, she mentioned that she thought she heard me coming in early this morning. I told her I went out for a walk, but I quickly changed the subject. If she dug any deeper, I knew I would crack, and since I was going to be living next door to my one-night stand, I wanted to keep the fact that my ‘walk’ had been a walk of shame to myself.

“Of course!” Nadia enthused. “I’m so excited that you’re staying for a few weeks.”

That made one of us. Every second I remained in Firefly Island felt like another nail in the coffin of my independent, urban life. Small-town living had never appealed to me. I’dalways likened it to a cult, one that I was determined not to be a member of.

After a little (a lot) of reflection today, I’d come to the conclusion that…drumroll…I was lonely. I had been for a few years now. But what I’d also concluded was that what I was experiencing was merely a temporary state. It would pass. The problem with being here was that Firefly Island gave me a false sense of comfort, of community, of safety, i.e., a warm blanket and hot chocolate after being out in a snowstorm. Add Harlan Mitchell to that scenario, and you have yourself a roaring fire.

That’s exactly what he was: a hot, roaring fire.

Last night, I felt more connected to another human being than I had in a long time. Sure, the sex was part of it. I’d missed being touched and kissed, and Harlan Mitchell was very good in those departments. But it was more than that. The time we’d spent talking after we’d had sex for the first time was a deeper conversation than I could ever remember having.

All my life, I’d been guarded. From the time I could remember, I’d had to navigate a world that wasn’t safe. But last night, I was in a cocoon of peace where nothing could hurt me. That’s what being in Harlan’s arms felt like. Not to mention, he’d made me come three times.

For the next three weeks, I was going to be living next door to a man who felt like home, who made me feel equal parts safe and dangerous, who I’d allowed past my walls, who could give me multiple orgasms, and I was going to have to date five other men.

What sort of fucked-up karma was that?

“So, when do you start filming?” Nadia did a drumroll on the steering wheel.

“At the end of this week if we can pull permits that fast.” I’d received an email from Ernie, a PA on Dating in the City, andhe said he was in contact with someone from city hall. He didn’t think there were going to be any issues.

“Well, if you need any more guinea pigs for your show, I’m your gal.”

“Thanks.” As much as I appreciated Nadia sacrificing herself to the reality dating show gods and would love to take up her offer as tribute, Alexandra had made it very clear that she wanted me in front of the camera.

Her insistence was frustrating on a couple of levels. One, because she was clearly determined to ignore the trajectory she knew I wanted my career to take. Her insistence on me being ‘talent’ was her way of keeping me in my place. Two, there were thousands of women who would love to have the opportunity to be the subject of the show. They would make deals with the devil for the chance to have that much airtime.

I would sell an organ to avoid having to do the show.

“Did you know that they might film a movie here?” Nadia mentioned as we passed Abernathy Manor, where I’d been yesterday at this time.

“Really?”

Holy crap.

The gala was only twenty-four hours ago, yet it felt like so much had happened in that time. Time was such a funny thing. The two hours I’d spent with Harlan this morning felt like it had been two days or two weeks. That is before I had a mini-panic attack after I laughed at something he’d said and almost blurted outI love you—which I was blaming on sleep deprivation—and then proceeded to frantically get dressed, claiming I needed to get back to the house before Aunt Rhonda worried.

“Yeah, a true story about Austin James. He grew up here. He was Zoe’s husband, AJ’s dad.”

I remembered AJ calling Harlan Uncle H. “Is AJ Harlan’s nephew?”.

“Austin and Harlan were best friends, and AJ is Harlan’s godson.”

“Oh.”Werebest friends.WasZoe’s husband. Those statements were both in the past tense. “What’s the movie about?”

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