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“You’re just trying to be n-nice,” she stammered. “I’m not that nice. You said so yourself.”
“I do kind of love you. A little bit.” My heart gave a squeeze. “Just a little bit? Because I’m falling for you big time.”
“Bring all of it. I’ll tell your landlord you’re moving out.” She pushed her hair out of her face. “I hope you don’t regret this.” “Not a chance. I’m getting everything I want.
it was okay to want things. It was okay to change my mind and move to Vermont on a whim and skinny dip beside an organic apple orchard if I felt like it. I wanted that life, and I wanted this man. I wasn’t giving up. I was trading up.
I was so freaking happy to climb into that truck beside Griff. That had to mean something important. It was possible to run toward something instead of running away, right?
My mom picked up only a few seconds later. “Audrey? Is anything wrong?” That greeting was unexpected. If I weren’t crazy, I detected a note of concern.
I turned to study Griff’s strong profile as he drove. That was a face I wanted to see every day.
I’d rather fight with you than fight with them. Because, make-up sex.”
“What are we fighting about?” “I’m not sure yet. But you get cranky sometimes when there’s stress.”
“People tell me I’m nicer when yo...
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“At the risk of freaking you out, because you don’t like it when I say these things…” He stole a glance at me and then returned his eyes to the road. “I love you, princess. You’re the sweet that balances out my natural tannins.”
I love you. I’d learned to avoid these words from men who’d let me down. But it sounded entirely different coming from Griffin Shipley.
“So you’ll sit down in, say, November?” “Sometimes. Other times I split wood while other people sit down.” Huh. Watching Griffin split wood sounded like a good time. I was looking forward to November.
I hoped she’d just say, “Hello, Audrey, dear. Could you hand me those napkins?” But that’s not what happened. A little cheer went up from May, Jude and Ruth when we stepped into the kitchen. “Oh, thank heavens,” Ruthie said,
BEST IN CLASS, BEST IN SHOW: AUDREY by Shipley Farms. “Omigod!” I squeaked. “You named it after me?”
“I’m on your prize!” I shrieked. “I’ve never won a prize.”
“There’s going to be a trophy. It might say Audrey on it.” Griffin chuckled. “Maybe? Hell, if it doesn’t I’ll have it engraved on there just for you.” I jumped into his arms. “Thank you!”
“And thank you for bringing Audrey to her senses and back to Vermont, the most beautiful state in the union, to be part of a loud and sometimes uncooperative family who already loves her.”
“Poor girl has to put up with you, though,” somebody muttered. “Amen.”
“To more greatness!” There were cheers and taunts. “Yeah!” “Congrats!” “Ego, much?”
“I’ll move in here tomorrow if Audrey makes that coconut rice. And the spicy veggies.”
“You are a smart kid, you know that? Finding the right girl, treating her right.” “I’m trying,” Griff said,
“It’s not the Plaza…” “Stop. I want to live here with you.
“You haven’t seen those ugly 1960s countertops.” Kiss. “But we can do some simple things.” Kiss. “We can paint.” Kiss. “You can choose the colors.”
The idea of making a home with Griffin was wonderful and so unexpected. I felt giddy just picturing it.
Audrey, you’re not a stupid girl. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that you were.” It took a moment for that to sink in. My mother never apologized to me. “Um…thank you?”
I hung up the phone, uncertain of which of today’s events was the more shocking—me moving in with Griff or having a civil telephone conversation with Mom?
“I heard that place is a wreck right now,” Raphael said, his voice low. “But I also heard that you did good work.
By any chance would you like to meet an award-winning Vermont cidermaker, too?” “Hmm,” he said. “Why not?”
“That’s a lot of money, baby. Want to buy some cider?” I looked up into Griff’s teasing eyes, and started to laugh. “Sure. Four dollars a bottle.” “Aw, fuck.”
“We are going to be fine, princess. The cider will sell—just not all at once like I wanted. Put that money in the bank. Someday you’ll have a big plan of your own to carry out. You’ll see a building for sale and realize that it ought to become a restaurant called Audrey’s. I still want that for you.”
“Look who’s a softie.” He turned his rugged face toward me, brown eyes gentle. “Never said I wasn’t. Especially for you.”
“Gotta see if I can balance my bittersweets with the right amount of acid.” “I love it when you want a tasting, baby.”
