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Chapter nine

Robbie

“Alright. Now that the wedding cake has officially been delivered, are you going to tell me what you have planned for the afternoon?” Naomi asks as we head down the steps of Pine Fall’s one and only banquet hall.

“Nope,” I reply.

“Why not?”

“Just trust me.”

“What does trust have to do with telling me where we’re going?”

“It’s part of the process. Now get in the car.”

“You’re kind of annoying when you’re bossy. Do you know that about yourself?”

My mouth curves into a smile. “I do, actually. Dane tells me all the time.”

We head out of the parking lot once in her car, turning right to take us down Main Street.

Pine Falls is bustling on this sunny Saturday, and I fight the nausea rising in my throat as I drive through.

The pedestrian-clogged sidewalk mimics how congested my chest feels, like there’s a weight pressing against it with no sign of reprieve.

As nice as it has been hanging out with Naomi, I’m dying to get out of here. I don’t typically hang around long enough to know if I have a limit, but apparently, I’m about to reach it.

Thankfully, I’m leaving tomorrow.

“Ooh, are we going shopping in Nisswa?” She claps her hands together in excitement.

“Negative.”

She clicks her tongue. “Boo.”

Her phone buzzes from her lap, and I don’t even have to look to know who it is. Her phone has been ringing nonstop all day, and it’s been the same person nearly every single time.

“Are you going to answer her this time or leave Gabby desperate for answers?”

“I don’t know what to say!” She throws up her arms in frustration.

“Judging by her eight-minute-long voicemail this morning, she has a lot of questions about you and me and our relationship—as I’m sure all of our friends do.

I’m just going to let them marinate with the news for a little while.

I feel like if they interrogate me, I’m going to crack under the pressure. You know I’m not a good liar.”

“Don’t think of it as lying. Think of it as…a game. A game we’re playing for the greater good. It’s harmless, really.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, but still looks unconvinced.

“Let me handle it,” I offer. “I’ll do a group video chat with our friends tomorrow on my drive down to the airport. They can interrogate me all they want—I’m a vault.”

I get grilled by them often enough about my lack of communication when I’m on the road, so I already know I can take their heat. I have no problem absorbing this for her.

“Thank you,” she says genuinely, squeezing my forearm that’s resting on the center console.

After hooking a left at the stoplight, I veer down a county road that takes us heading west out of town. We drive past farmland and long stretches of deserted fields before I slow the car.

“Why are we at Toby’s family farm?” Naomi asks, confused, as I turn onto the familiar driveway. This farm was a prime location for many field parties back in the day. We’ve driven onto this property more times than we can count.

“You’ll see,” is all I say, bringing the car to a stop underneath a willow tree.

“I’m so confused. How, exactly, is being here necessary?” she asks warily, climbing out. “What in the world do you have planned, Robbie Leery?”

“I wanted a location with no distractions or outside influence,” I explain as we walk, our shoes crunching over gravel.

“Somewhere quiet. And seeing as how Toby basically kicked me out of our apartment, he owes me one. He said his family is cool with us using the north field between the two cornfields for an hour or so today.”

“Now I’m definitely nervous.” She grimaces. “You do realize that keeping me in the dark only makes my imagination go wild, right?”

We continue our trek past two towering grain bins, past a large shed, and out onto the field.

“I’m aware. And it’s part of my entertainment—watching you squirm.” I throw a wink at her.

“That’s nice.” Sarcasm drips heavily from her voice. I signal her to stop when we reach the perfect spot for what I have planned.

“This is the spot,” I announce. “Are you ready?”

“No,” she says emphatically.

“That’s the spirit. Okay, I’m going to tell you a rule that I just made up,” I say, turning to face her.

I almost feel guilty at the look of nervous trepidation on her face, but she nods anyway, going along with it.

“Okay. Before we start each practice session, I need you to think really hard—dig down deep—and tell me one thing that you know for sure you want out of life.”

“You mean besides not doing these practice sessions?” She tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Besides that.” I watch in amusement as she rolls her eyes. “I’m serious.”

“Alright, alright.” She takes a deep breath. “Let’s see. One thing I want out of life… Okay, I know. I want a family—of my own. I want to get married and have babies someday. There.”

“Good.” I hold my hand up for a high five. “Now was that so hard?”

I smile when she sticks her tongue out at me.

“Tough. Let’s get started.” I interlock my fingers, pushing them outward to crack my knuckles.

“Today’s lesson is all about learning to trust your gut.

You need to be solid knowing the difference between excitement and dread.

When you can clearly decipher between the two, then it’ll be easier to determine what things to say yes to and what you should consider saying no to. Does that make sense?”

“How did you come up with this?” She squints an eye at me.

“I did some research on learning to set personal boundaries,” I admit.

“You did?” Her eyes soften, and her endearing smile warms my chest, reminding me of why I’m helping her in the first place.

“I absolutely did. Okay, let’s go ahead and warm up to get the blood flowing to your brain. Give me five jumping jacks,” I demand.

“Excuse me?”

“Come on,” I chuckle. “I’ll do them with you.”

She reluctantly follows my lead, and we both do five jumping jacks in the middle of the field.

“Now shake it out.” I roll my shoulders, shaking my arms and twisting my neck from side to side. To her credit, she follows my lead again and flails her arms above her head. I’m fully aware of how ridiculous we look right now—hence the quiet, private location for today's lesson.

“That’s it. Now get those hips moving too.” I sway my hips back and forth, biting back a laugh at the sight of Naomi.

“Now add a lip buzz.” I vibrate my lips together while I continue wiggling my body. Naomi buzzes her lips together and almost immediately busts out laughing. I can’t hold back a laugh myself as we slowly still our bodies.

“I feel good. Do you feel good?” I ask her.

“I’m not sure exactly how I’m supposed to be feeling, but I do feel loose,” she says with a smile, still catching her breath.

“Perfect.” I rest my hands on my hips. “Alright, we’re going to do a rapid-fire round of things and situations.

I’ll say a single word, and you tell me immediately if it makes you feel excitement or dread, okay?

Don’t think too hard. Just respond right away with the first feeling that comes to you. ”

A look of determination crosses her face as she nods. “Got it.”

“Okay, here we go.” I look her square in the eyes. “Rainstorms.”

“Excitement,” she answers relatively quickly.

“Sauerkraut.”

“Dread.”

“Shopping.”

“Excitement.”

“Vacations.”

“Excitement.”

“Jalapenos.”

“Dread.”

“Nail polish.”

“Excitement.”

“Obtaining a baking order.”

“Excitement.”

“Good. Do you notice the difference between when you feel excitement about something versus dread?”

“I think so.”

“That’s what you should focus on when someone asks you to do something. Are you excited about it, or are you dreading it?”

“Makes sense.” She nods in agreement.

“Let’s do some more. Pickles.”

“Excitement.”

“High heels.”

“Dread.”

“Pirate ships.”

She blinks. “Uh…excitement.”

“Winter.”

“Dread.”

“Airplanes.”

“Excitement.”

“Good. We’ll come back to that exercise another time. Let’s move on to the next part of today’s agenda.”

“Okay.” She nods eagerly.

“We’re going to practice saying no. No matter what I ask you, I want you to shout no as loudly as you can.

Now, obviously, you’re not going to shout when you respond to people in your everyday life, but we’re just getting you comfortable with saying it in general here. Do we need to do some more lip buzzes?”

“No.” She smirks. “I’m sufficiently loose.”

“Okay. Will you pick up that rock over there for me, please?”

“No,” she yells, the attempt feeble and weak.

“Louder,” I demand.

“NO!”

“Attagirl. Can you take this file to accounting?”

“NO!”

“Can you give me a foot massage?”

“Ew. NO!”

“Can you give me a ride to my buddy’s house?” I fire the questions off as soon as they come to my mind, only briefly wondering if Toby’s family can hear and might be getting concerned about the defiant yelling. I make a mental note to check in with him later.

“NO!”

“Can you make me two dozen cupcakes by tomorrow morning?”

“NO!”

“Can we go home now?”

“NO!”

I shrug. “Alright, I was going to end there for the day, but if you insist.” Then I dodge her fist when she swats at my arm.

“Will you write this report for me?”

“NO!”

“Do you have any spare gas money?”

“NO!”

“Can you do my laundry before I leave?”

“NO!”

“Nice! How do you feel?”

“Great, actually.” There’s excitement and a dash of invigoration behind her eyes, as if a fire has been lit within.

“Good. My research said the more we do things like this, the easier you’ll build confidence.”

“Okay. Let’s do some more, then.”

We spend the next twenty minutes alternating between shouting no and rapid-fire word associations until the sky starts to darken.

“It’s starting to get late. Should we head back?” I ask.

“Yes, sir.” She salutes me and then falls into step next to me.

“Hey, thanks for today.” She loops her arm through mine. “I feel like that really helped.”

“You bet. Being shouted at is my exact idea of fun.” I mean it as sarcasm, but the truth is, I did have fun—not to mention this feeling of accomplishment our time in the field gave me.

I’m not sure if it’s from helping someone in general, or if it’s from helping her specifically.

Either way, it’s a welcome change from the heaviness I typically feel just from being home, and it served as a nice distraction while we were out here.

“Do you want to pick up something for dinner on the way home?” she asks.

“Do you want to?” I ask her, although my grumbling stomach probably gives away what my vote is.

“Yes,” she says confidently. “Chinese food sounds good to me.”

“Let’s do it,” I say as we get back in her car.

“Now, I leave in two days. What are we going to work on while I’m gone?” I ask, shifting into gear.

“Trusting my gut and trying to feel more comfortable saying no.”

“That’s right. I’ll only be gone for five days, so we’ll do another practice round when I get back. You can go ahead and get excited about it now.”

“Can’t wait,” she says sarcastically.

“Ah, come on, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“No,” she concedes. In the dimming evening light, the slightest twinge of a spark pangs in my stomach when I catch a glimpse of a smile and her quiet voice when she says, “It really wasn’t.”