Page 35 of Crossroads

JASPER

“Did you pack your swim trunks?” Emerson walks into our bedroom, looking a little frantic, his wedding ring glistening in the sun that filters in through our bedroom window.

We bought this place last year, right after Emerson graduated from college.

With honors, I might add. His parents wanted to give him a graduation present—a big-ass house in Kansas City—but Emerson told them we were looking in Kensley.

That he had no desire to live anywhere else.

I expected a huge fight, a large rift. But surprising the hell out of us both, they told us to look around for what we wanted and to send them the information.

I guess parents really do just want their kids to be happy.

I’m not thrilled about them buying our first home, but Emerson said it could be a great wedding gift too.

Yes, that’s how my husband proposed to me, and yes, I said yes immediately.

Without any thought of doubt. Now, letting his parents buy us a house as a graduation and wedding present was a tough one, but since we got married in a small civil ceremony, Emerson said we saved them a lot of money on a huge wedding.

I let him get away with it because I know he wanted a house to settle down in.

He talked about getting back to Kensley even more than I did.

So I gave in, and we found a perfect little three-bedroom farmhouse with a lot of land.

His parents keep referring to it as a starter house.

I’m not sure what they’re talking about.

I’m pretty sure I’m going to die in this house someday—a long way from now. But if they have dreams I’ll want a big mansion someday, fine. But I have everything I need right here.

A modest house on a lot of land. We got cows last year and some goats.

Kelly and John have downsized, working toward retirement, mostly relying on the crops.

So Kelly has given me her goat-milk soap recipes, and with her blessing, we’ve relied pretty heavily on the revenue from the farmers’ market to pay our bills.

Emerson has a blog and lots of sponsors on social media to help pay bills too.

Sometimes I can’t believe the amount of money they’ll pay.

But it’s not for traveling—nope. It’s about life on the farm.

And people can’t seem to get enough of it.

He posts pictures of each step of building up our own farm and every time we fix something on the house.

When we get a new animal. All of it. He documents our lives beautifully.

I don’t really follow it, but I smile pretty for the camera any time my husband tells me to, and it’s always genuine. He’s a gifted storyteller, my husband. He does it through pictures and videos.

My parents just wanted me to be happy, and believe me, that’s what I am.

It’s almost gross how happy we are here.

We go into town often, where most people know us.

And thankfully, not many bat an eye when we walk in hand in hand or kiss.

They wave and smile. Sometimes they ask about the next farmers’ market products.

Some ask about Kelly and John or my parents or Millie—who’s doing great, by the way.

She moved to Texas last summer, almost immediately after we moved back. But she swears it wasn’t on purpose.

I like to tease her about taking it personally, but really, she just got a great job offer and is living her best life. Lucy is doing well too, from what I hear. She got a job at the same place as Millie, and they’re living it up in the big city.

My parents are doing really well. My dad has been doing a lot of physical therapy, and they seem to have found some effective pain management.

He’s still not back to work, may never be, but he seems more at peace than I’ve seen him in a long time.

With not having a mortgage payment, we’ve been able to help them out more and more, so my mom hasn’t had to work herself to the bone.

They’ve even gone on a couple of small vacations during the past two years.

And we get to travel too. Often. We just have to have someone come by and take care of the farm when we leave for a bit, but it’s not hard to find help around here.

“Yes, dear,” I say, zipping up my suitcase.

“I may be a country boy, but I know if I’m going on a tropical vacation, I’d better bring trunks. ”

He wraps his arms around me and kisses my lips in a quick kiss. “Well, I know your country ass wouldn’t mind skipping the trunks, but that’s not legal where we’re going.”

I chuckle. “Too bad.”

“Now, the hot tub in our room . . .” He kisses down my neck and makes me shiver with need.

“We’re going to miss our flight,” I complain, and he laughs.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Come on,” I say, unwrapping his hands from around my neck but holding onto one of them and putting my bag over my other shoulder, tugging him toward the door. “You promised to show me the world.”

“I will.” He squeezes my hand. “And you promised me a quiet, happy life in Kensley.”

I look out the bedroom window, looking out at the pond on our property—another must for the list when we went looking—and the green fields. The barn. And then I look into my husband’s eyes shining with pride and happiness. “We have that.”

“We do,” he says, leaning in to kiss me. “Who knew I’d fall for the grumpy farm boy?”

“No one.” I shake my head. “Who knew I’d fall for the spoiled city boy?”

“Me,” he says, all arrogant and shit and pressing a confident kiss to my mouth. “I knew you couldn’t resist those squeaky-clean shoes.”

A hearty laugh falls from my lips. “Fucking ridiculous shoes.”

“I love you,” he says on another laugh.

“I love you too. Let’s go see the world.”

“And then come back to our home.” He says it firmly.

“Always.”

Who knew you could truly have it all if you’re just willing to work a little harder?