Page 17 of Pumpkins & Promises
"I guess we are." The thought should terrify me, but instead, it makes me feel lighter than I have in weeks. "Though we should probably figure out what that means after Thanksgiving."
"We will," Wesley says, and there's a certainty in his voice that makes me believe him. "We'll figure it all out."
As we clean up the carving supplies together, working in comfortable synchronization, I can't stop stealing glances at Wesley. The way he carefully wipes down each tool, the small smile that hasn't left his face since we kissed, the way he keeps looking at me like he's seeing something new.
"I should probably head back to the cabin," he says finally, though he doesn't seem in any hurry to leave.
"Probably," I agree, but I don't move from my spot on the porch.
Wesley leans over and kisses me again, soft and brief and perfect. "Sweet dreams, Emily."
"You too."
I watch him walk to his car, and when he turns to wave goodbye, I'm still smiling. As his taillights disappear down the driveway, I touch my lips and wonder when exactly I stopped being afraid of what this might become.
Chapter Six
Wesley
Iwake up to my phone buzzing insistently on the nightstand, pulling me out of dreams filled with apple-cinnamon scents and soft kisses on moonlit porches.
I reach for the phone, expecting Oscar's name, but instead I see a text from Emily sent about twenty minutes ago.
Good morning! Sienna sent me some great photos from the cornhole tournament. Thought you might want to use one for social media? We look so happy!
Attached are four photos of us from the Friendsgiving event. In the best one, I'm looking at her instead of the camera while she laughs at something I apparently just said. We do look happy. We look like a couple who's genuinely enjoying each other's company.
Before I can respond, my phone starts ringing. Oscar.
"This better be important," I mumble into the phone.
"Wesley, you beautiful genius," Oscar's voice is practically vibrating with excitement. "Have you seen the numbers?"
"What numbers?" I'm still looking at Emily's photos, remembering the warmth of that afternoon.
"The engagement on your Instagram post. It's gone viral, Wesley. Completely viral. We're talking fifty thousand likes,hundreds of comments, and the story's been picked up by three entertainment outlets already."
I sit up in bed, suddenly more awake. "What story?"
"'Wesley Thorne's Small-Town Romance: A Fresh Chapter for the Controversial Author.' People are eating this up. They love the whole redemption narrative. City writer finds love and authenticity in rural America. It's exactly the image rehabilitation we needed."
"Oscar—"
"The publishers are thrilled, Wesley. They're saying this could be the hook for your comeback. Real-life inspiration for your next novel. They want to fast-track your contract renewal." Oscar pauses. "This relationship angle is pure gold for your career."
My stomach drops.
"Listen, I know you said this was real, but from a business perspective? It's working perfectly. Small-town girl, family business, very authentic. And she clearly gets it. I bet she understands how valuable this exposure could be for her little farm operation too."
The words hit me like cold water. I look back at Emily's text, her enthusiastic suggestion about using the photos for social media.
"Between you and me?" Oscar continues. "This is exactly what you needed. She gets national exposure, you get the wholesome rehabilitation story. Everyone wins."
We look so happy!Was she thinking about our happiness, or about how happy we looked for the camera?
"Wesley? You there?"
"Yeah," I manage. "I'm here."
