Page 58 of Fall I Want
I scoff. “You play dirty.”
“Nah, just have an advantage. Thanks, Mr. Dreamy.” He laughs, focusing on the crunchy leaves tumbling across the sidewalk.
The sizable crowd of people slightly dissipates. “I’ve decided to go to my father’s wedding as long as you’re joining me.”
I grin. “Oh, I got approval earlier today to use some of my vacation days.”
His face breaks into a wide smile. “Great. Maybe once I show everyone I’m fine, I’ll finally get closure and the lies about me will no longer be perpetuated.”
“What lies?” I want to know exactly what I’m walking into so I can be prepared. “As your girlfriend and future fiancée, I deserve to know.”
“Future wife,” he tells me with a smirk, then continues. “Everyone believes I’m an obsessive weird fuck who stalks Celine and that I’ll never move on after she cheated with my now ex–best friend.” He rolls his eyes.
“Is there truth to it?” I ask.
His brows furrow. “I’ve avoided them both since she broke up with me. I’ve ghosted the world.”
“Hey, it was a valid question because I want to understand. I’dhelp my friends bury a body if they needed me to, okay?” Then I realize what he said. “Wait, you caught her cheating and didn’t end it? She did?”
His jaw clenches tight. “My weakness is my heart.”
My assumptions about him were wrong, and I twist to face him.
“What?” he asks, glancing back at the little boy catching a pumpkin frisbee.
“I think your heart is your greatest strength,” I say.
Time freezes for a few seconds as the cool wind blows through my hair. If I don’t walk away right now, my lips will be pressed against his again.
I stand and hold out my hand, hoping he’ll take it. He does.
“Let’s get through this stranger phase as fast as fucking possible,” he mutters, interlocking his fingers with mine as we move toward the crowd waiting to enter the pumpkin patch.
“I agree.” I want to know everything about him and his past.
Ten minutes later, we find the end of the line and wait.
“So what’s our plan?” I ask, glancing over at the side-by-side towing a trailer with four bales on it. It’s the first year I’ve spotted the miniature hayride.
“We’re carving pumpkins for the porch of my haunted house.”
His words make me laugh. “I’m down for that.”
I grin and swing his hand in mine as we move forward. When we’re almost to the gigantic arch constructed of hand-carved pumpkins painted by local artists. Spooky music floats through the sound system.
A smile touches my lips as I turn to him. “Visiting the patch on the first weekend is one of my traditions,” I explain. “But there is one caveat.”
“Yes?”
“Selfies by the entrance.” I pull my phone from my pocket and guide him over to my favorite section of the archway. He ducksdown behind me and I hold the camera, glancing at him on the screen. “Ready?”
He’s a good sport and changes his expression from smirks, to smiles, to funny faces.
“Oh, I’ll help you kids out,” an older woman says. I don’t have the heart to tell her no, so I let her.
Zane stands next to me, wrapping his arm around me, and I move close to hold his waist.
“Look at you cuties,” she says, taking several photos of us. A minute later, she hands my device back.
