Jake looks at me, pleased.
‘Told you I found us a spot.’
‘This is…’ I search for the right word. ‘More than a spot. It’s a dream.’
‘Come on. Let’s set up,’ he suggests.
He helps me down from Biscuits before removing the basket from her saddle and setting up our lunch.
Jake ties her reins loosely to a sturdy post near the trees. She immediately lowers her head and starts happily chewing grass.
Jake spreads out a blanket by the stream, smoothing it flat. The sunlight pours in through the trees, turning the water into glitter.
I lower myself onto the blanket, tucking my legs underneath me, and then all at once it feels like the stress evaporates from my body. I practically melt. This really does feel like a break from my life, like I’m outside the bubble suddenly, and it’s glorious. I can breathe.
Jake sits opposite, close enough that his knee brushes mine when he shifts.
Jake pulls things from the basket – sandwiches, crisps, grapes, two bottles of water – and, of course, my tea.
‘I think this might be the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me in months,’ I tell him.
‘What are fiancés for, huh?’ he replies.
‘Don’t play down how amazing you are,’ I insist. ‘This isn’t for show, there’s no one here to impress, no one to sell a story to.’
He smiles, but it’s softer than usual.
As we eat, we talk about everything and nothing. The kind of chat that comes easy when you’re with the right person.
‘Exciting about the book deal, huh?’ he says.
‘Yeah…’ I pause. ‘It is. I guess now I just have a new thought in my mind, that maybe the book is crap, and my viral fame is the only reason it’s getting published.’
‘Has anyone read it?’ he asks, leaning back on his hand.
I shake my head.
‘Not all of it – JJ has read quite a bit.’
‘She’s an expert,’ he reminds me.
‘She’s also my friend,’ I point out.
‘That’s fear talkin’. Not truth.’
I glance up.
‘I mean it,’ he says. ‘You know, JJ, she wouldn’t lie to ya, and publishers wouldn’t be interested if the book wasn’t good.’
He’s looking at me like he actually believes I’m capable. Like he’s not humouring me. And it’s… disarming.
We talk about Rosewood too.
Jake tells me little bits – how the stables are solid but could be improved, how the land could be used for more riding trails. He talks about it like it’s not just a business deal. Like it’s a dream he’s been carrying around in his heart for a long time, he just needed to find the right spot.
I find myself imagining it. Jake here permanently. Not passing through. Not pretending. Me visiting. Then staying. Then… living. It’s a dangerous thought. It slides into my mind like it belongs there, and for a moment it feels possible. I hate that. Because thinking that things like these are possible is how you get hurt.
Jake reaches for another sandwich, his fingers brushing mine in the process. It’s a small, accidental touch but it starts flashbacks of last night bouncing around in my head.