Page 164 of Riding the Sugar High

“No, that’s not what I mean.” He shrugs when he notices my eyes set on the side of his face. “I just...” He flashes me a playful smile. “Seventeen days ago, your farm was failing. You and I weren’t talking, and I was in a loveless marriage. And today...”

“Today, I’m here, having one of our Sunday lunches for the first time in years.”

He nods, huffing out a laugh. “Pretty fucking great.”

He doesn’t need to tell me how amazing she is. How everything she does is impressive. I know that very well.

Watching Primrose set Sadie down, I smile. “She believes in me so blindly.” My throat constricts, tears burning in the backs of my eyes. “I needed someone to believe in me.”

He squeezes my shoulder for a moment. “So...what are you going to do?”

“I’ll drive her to the airport, kiss her goodbye, keep a smile on for her sake, and then...”

Then that’s it.

I’ll focus on work, maybe spend more time with Aaron and Sadie.

“Do you think you guys will be okay?”

I watch Primrose entertain our guests as if this is her house—it might as well be, goddammit. She’s in everything, from the million candles to the pink containers, lipsticks, and creams in the bathroom to the scent of sugar in the air. She’s embedded in me, so I know what she’d say if the question were pointed at her.

She’d tell me to believe in it. To believe in me and her.

She’d tell me to live life fully, to wear my heart on my sleeve, and not to brush off our seventeen days together because these moments might be as fleeting as dust, but even dust has its place in the world.

Before she got here, I hated my life. And it’s much better now because of everything she’s done, but not having her here feels like going back to those gray, meaningless days that blur into one another.

She’s brought all variants of pink into my life.

And it turns out it’s my favorite fucking color.

* * *

“Please, just let me carry your goddamn luggage, Primrose.”

“I don’tneedyou to,” she insists as she drags the large suitcase along.

She doesn’t need me to? She looks like David trying to cart Goliath around on tiny wheels. But her mood started worsening when we left, and by the time we reached the airport, she had a dark cloud following her around.

“Stupid—freaking—” She kicks the pink suitcase when one of the wheels gets stuck on a broken tile, and raising a brow, I watch her sigh and glance up at me. “Fine. Can you please?—”

“Would love to, Barbie.”

With her suitcase in hand, I follow her to the large screen showcasing the departures. Once she’s located her check-in counter, we stand in line until a grumpy flight attendant takes her luggage. I wait by a bookstore for her to finish up, watching the people inside browse through books and magazines.

“You can go if you want,” she says as she joins me.

“Hm? What?”

“You look uncomfortable. I know you don’t like crowded places.”

Yeah, I don’t. I hate the fluorescent lights and loud noises, people screaming and crying and yapping. Of all the crowded places in the world, airports are my least favorite. So many emotions all around me. “It’s fine. I’m not going to leave until your plane takes off.”

“But we’ll have to say goodbye at security.”

“I know.” I push the rising feeling of despair away, then point at the store. “Come on. I’ll get you a couple of books for the trip.”

“You don’t need to.”