Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Wills keeps Trevor and Brad entertained, showing glimpses of the girl I fell in love with, while we wait for our breakfast to arrive. She has an endless supply of stories, and surprisingly, not all of them are awful. Although it’s clear she derives an incredible amount of joy from telling the story about Dallas Bright Junior, the horse named in my likeness.
“You do a ton of charity stuff,” Brad observes.
“Mostly it was an excuse to spend time with Wills. She made me chase her.” I kiss her temple.
She slides the hand on my thigh past the hem of my shorts and pinches me.
“You gonna get married in the city or up here?” Trevor asks.
“Not sure yet,” Wills says.
Vicki stops by with our meals, ending that potentially awkward conversation.
Brad and Trevor take off after brunch, which I pay for, and I hold the door open for her as we leave the diner.
My fingers brush hers as I fall into step beside her. She doesn’t yank her hand away, so I link our pinkies. “Why did you invite them to sit with us?”
“I don’t want everyone to have the teen version of me as the only way they know me—unapproachable, cold, et cetera. No one likes feeling or knowing they’re disliked. Trevor and Brad weren’t openly mean to me. Mostly they were just people passing me in the hall,” she says.
I nod, but don’t say anything. I want to know more about what makes her tick. What she felt. What she wants. What matters to her.
“I had two moms in a time when two moms weren’t commonplace in a small town. I have a hard time bullshitting, and I didn’t play by the same social rules as most teens. I could have made it easier for myself by trying harder to quietly fit in, but I don’t think it would have made the experience better, because then I wouldn’t have been true to myself. In Toronto, I like who I am. I have a cool job and great friends. I’m doing something I love, and I get to give back to my community in meaningful ways.”
“I think you’re remarkable, Wills. I always have.”
Her jaw clenches, and, again, for a moment I see the girl I made cry in the cafeteria. “You had a funny way of showing it.”
I’m a second away from telling her the truth, but we’re swarmed by a group of kids who recognize me, asking for photos and autographs. Wills immediately goes into work mode and pulls a Sharpie out of her bag. I sign for a few minutes until she politely lets them know I’ll be around later this weekend, but I’m needed for pie duties.
We quickly duck down the alley behind the storefronts with her hand in mine. It’s not particularly welcoming with the smell of hot summer trash, but at least we’ll get to the pie-making area before the entire competition is over.
The contestants are already set up, the announcer counting down the minutes until the bake-off begins, when Wills and I slide into my mom’s booth.
“Oh thank goodness! I thought I was on my own this year!” Mom says.
I kiss her on the cheek. “Sorry we’re cutting it close. We had to take the alley to avoid all the crowds.”
“Dallas is pretty popular around here.” Wills pats my arm. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“I have an apron for you,” Mom says. “I’d love for you to join us. Only if you want, though.” Her smile is hopeful.
“Um, I don’t want to slow you down,” Willy hedges. It’s rare to see her insecure. I want to wrap my arms around her and tell her she’s incredible and has nothing to worry about.
“That’s not a problem. Dallas and I will show you the ropes.” Mom holds out an apron that reads The Future Mrs. Bright to me. “Help Wilhelmina with this, darling.”
I take the apron and pull it over Willy’s head. Her eyes are wide, her expression panicked, and her voice barely a whisper. “I can’t even bake cookies.”
“I’ve got you, honey.” I wink and turn her around so I can tie the apron at the small of her back. I hold on to her shoulders when she starts to turn. “Let me manage your hair for a sec.” I run my fingers through the loose waves and take the hair tie my mom holds out to me, carefully securing it in a loose braid. I’m not thinking when I lean in and press a kiss to the side of her neck.
“You two are so cute.” Mom’s phone is in her hand, her smile wide.
“Two minutes until the bake-off begins!” Howie Fresh, the town mayor, says into the microphone. All the kids are dressed up as their favorite kind of pie, except for his daughter, who’s dressed as a math symbol. Basically, the entire town is here. It’s one of the festival’s most-attended events, and names are randomly selected for the pie taste test. The winner of the contest has their pie featured in the diner for the entire year. Mom always donates the proceeds from sales to the local foodbank.