Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Susan drags her husband away, not toward the exit but deeper into the arena, muttering something about needing new mops before the Ferris wheel and it being better in the dark anyway. Dulcie and I stand and watch them go. We can also clearly hear her mom angling to get a caramel apple with nuts. She loudly complains about the bakery not having them.
Dulcie links her arm through mine. “Maybe we should start selling different kinds of apples. It would be so much fun to make them.” Then, she pauses to think about that. “Or maybe not. It’s probably a ton of work.”
“I’d like to give them a try.”
She steers me outside, her leather messenger bag bumping between us, the blue ribbons safely tucked inside. After being indoors for so long, even the low-riding evening sun peeking out between the booths and rides seems blinding.
“Give them a try here, or give them a try at the bakery?” Dulcie asks.
“Both.”
Her smile is even brighter than the sun. “Why does the thought of you eating one get me so freaking hot?”
“Because you’re insatiable?” I suggest under my breath.
Dulcie grins. “Exactly.”
She leads us straight to a truck selling bags of cotton candy, several types of apples, and elephant ears, all in one shop. The wasps have moved in, buzzing all over the sticky bags and spilled sugar. We’re well back in the line, so we don’t have to ward them off.
There are lots of people out here. It hasn’t been easy, but every day, I’ve intentionally started to let go of my fears of being stared at. As Dulcie pointed out, people will look, but that’s only natural. They stare at beauty as well. They’re drawn to anything they find interesting or unique. Even a single feature like a piercing or a welcoming smile can draw attention. Even if people gape at me or whisper, Dulcie has always made it clear that she’s proud to be right beside me. She doesn’t pretend my scars aren’t there. She sees them when she looks at me. They’re a part of the man that she’s in love with.
We worked late at the bakery one night last week. She was adamant that she wanted to update the bakery’s social media sites, along with the new website. She couldn’t be torn away from it, but she allowed me to get takeout and come back, spread it all out on the desk like a picnic, and generally annoy her while I tried to be helpful.
I’ll never forget the moment she looked up from her laptop, her face looking so soft, even though it was lit by the rather harsh office lighting, and told me that she was going to L-bomb drop me, so if I wanted to run, I should get up and do it.
I didn’t run.
And the work she was so focused on had to wait until the morning, because there was no way I wasn’t telling her I loved her back. There was no way I wasn’t kissing her, and there was no way she was going to be satisfied with a kiss. There was also no way, NO WAY I was going to get frisky in an office we didn’t have the sole use of, so we ended up driving directly to my hotel.
She likes it when I dress old-timey, so I picked black to match her dress. Black pants, black button-up shirt, and black suspenders. I literally only wear them with her in mind, although thinking about her ripping my shirt off and leaving the suspenders on like she did that first time in my kitchen isn’t appropriate for a public place, so I quickly think about wasps chasing us for our treats instead.
No one likes wasps. They’re universal assholes the world over.
The line moves quickly, and soon enough, we get our treats. A caramel apple without nuts for me, and a giant elephant ear for Dulcie. Thankfully, the wasps don’t chase us as there are better pickings at the food truck.
We amble through the crowds, and I focus on Dulcie instead of the occasional way people turn their heads, their eyes roaming over my scars.
I don’t think Dulcie notices, but of course she does. She stops, licks the powdered sugar off her fingers, and brushes a strand of my hair back. I slicked it away from my face to match the outfit, but I guess the pomade only lasts for so long. She tucks a floppy strand of hair behind my ear.
“I love you, Luca.” She told me the first time that it was a baby love. The kind that grows from lust and infatuation into learning and deepening, trust and friendship.
She always explains herself so well. She’s so open and mature and so comfortable with herself that it’s taught me how to connect with my own body again. I’ve been able to see past my fears and the restrictions and limitations I’ve placed on myself.