Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
He massages my shoulder. “You have a moment to collect your thoughts now though. Can you put any thought into what you want now, Savvy?”
I take another deep breath. “I don’t know. It’s not that easy. I guess someday I want to be a mother. And to have a family. But there needs to be more than that. I’ve always loved to knit, but not sure that could make me a liveable income. I usually just make mittens for my coworkers at Christmas, a sweater for myself, if I can spare the money for yarn.”
“I loved being in a woodshop, making stuff when I was a kid. That’s how I got started with woodworking.”
“You turned it into a business. I don’t know if I can get good enough to do that.”
“No one knows if they have a knack for something until they try. I didn’t find out I had some talent until I gave it a go, and even then I still got scars on my fingers from my knife going astray.”
I nod along. For a time, we enjoy the silence, the cool breeze blowing through the forests. “I like it here,” I say, words slipping out without me even thinking about saying them.
“I like it here too. It’s why I live here.”
Laughter escapes me. “I’ve lived in the city my whole life. Everything’s always been so fast. So chaotic. Never a moment to rest.”
“It can get hectic when I go into town for the farmers’ market. Sometimes.”
“Yeah, but that's ‘sometimes.’ Not an ‘always.’ City life's always crazy, and I think I’m just tired of it.”
Hunter gazes off into the distance. “Yeah. Well, there’s always plenty of room out here in the woods. Getting a cabin built is a bit rough. And kind of expensive if you aren’t doing it yourself. But maybe you don’t have to build something new. Maybe you can find one that’s already built.”
“What, like yours?” I smirk.
“Yeah. I could do with you being in mine, going forward, Savvy. I think I’d like that a whole lot.”
We were moving entirely too fast. It all felt so ironic, considering how fast my life usually went, and how much I had just complained about it. But in this case, it felt right. It’s all a race to calmness, a race to peace of mind.
A race to having a man who actually cared for me in my life.
“Um... maybe I should go and make you some lunch,” I suggest, shifting off the swing. “Pay you back for your wonderful beef stew. On top of all the other wonderful things you’ve done for me.”
“Don’t think of it as something transactional, Savvy. I do it because I like you. Because I like you a whole lot.” There’s a cheery playfulness to his words, but I can sense that he’s not sure if he wants to use a word stronger than “like” just yet.
“Then let me make you some lunch because I like you a whole lot, too, Hunter.”
“My kitchen is yours,” he says, with a sitting bow. “Don’t think there’s any pasta for you to make chicken Alfredo though.”
“That’s a shame. I’m going to share that with you sooner or later.”
“Tell me what you need for it. Or, hell, I’d love to show you around town so you can see what the grocers have, yourself.”
I nod, my smile still warm. “I’d like that.”
What did I want out of my life? What was my dream? My realistic dream, one that could actually happen?
Being the loving wife of a man like Hunter. Never would have considered it before, but now, I can’t think of anything I’d want more.
It kind of scares me.
FOUR
savannah
“Oh, these shoes are not made for this. Not at all,” I groan as we proceed through the forest. After enough bramble and bushes, and tripping over roots in the ground, I’m getting better at watching my step, but it's by no means perfect.
Hunter looks down at my shoes and cocks an eyebrow. “Are those heels?”
“No, they’re slightly elevated flats. Kind of made to look like heels but be more forgiving on your feet.”
Hunter had suggested we take a walk through the woods. Really take it in.
The birdsong, the way the light radiates through the trees, even the scents of the actual pine surrounding me has made all of this a wonderful idea.
Just my feet have to get in the way to make things worse.
“Need to get you a nice proper pair of boots,” Hunter says, taking my hand to get me through some particularly rough patches of ground. “Why would you even wear heels that aren’t heels, anyway? Seems to miss the point of heels, to me.”
“That’s the fun part of being a waitress. I’m dependent on being charming and attractive to make money. And in a lot of cases, that means a little leg with heels will go that extra mile with certain customers. However, I’m also on my feet all day, running back and forth between the kitchen and tables. Wearing actual heels would be a good way to end up with bruised, sore feet. So, I wear these instead, and hope it’s enough to get some rich old man to give me an extra five dollars for a tip.”