Page 21 of Till The Cows Come Home

Chapter Eighteen

Sage

A quick pit-stop at my apartment put me a few minutes later in my schedule than I’d liked, but I needed to change from my barn-tainted attire.

When I finally crashed through the library doors, Jane stopped, staring at me wide-eyed, and I just smiled at her, mumbling morning pleasantries before jogging to the office to deposit my coat and bag.

As always, I brewed myself a cup of coffee, sipping the caffeine as I savored the final few moments of quiet before opening.

Preparing for imminent chaos was a lost cause, but each day I attempted it anyway.

Usually I chugged my coffee, grumbling about the mess or the schedule, but today was different.

I felt as though, no matter what happened, everything would be fine, good even, and I tried not to overthink the optimism.

Thursdays weren’t historically busy days, most kids were in school or daycare, which allowed us time to organize. Most of the day was spent shelving and cleaning in preparation for the weekend disarray.

“You’re awfully peppy today.” Jane smirked, wiping down the board books that seemed to always be sticky, no matter how frequent their cleaning was .

“Yeah?”

I continued sorting books, stacking them alphabetically to ease their return.

“Would your improvement in mood have anything to do with the man you’ve been canoodling with?”

“I have not been canoodling with anyone,” I hissed, trying to keep my voice low as a family entered the doors. Thankfully, they immediately headed to the back, slipping through the bookshelves out of hearing range.

“Really?” Jane challenged. “Because from what I heard, you were necking on the floor of a farmer’s market tent with said man.”

“Who told you that?”

I narrowed my eyes at Jane’s lack of response, thinking back to the only two people that knew. Although not certain, I was pretty positive Miles didn’t waltz in here to gossip with Jane, which left one person.

Ruby.

“That little?—”

Before I could finish my thought, the seemingly hidden family resurfaced in front of the desk, and as I checked their books out, I looked up, shooting daggers at Jane from across the room. She cackled in response, ignoring the raised brows of the parents as she disappeared into the back office.

Jane and I didn’t speak further about the subject due to a pack of toddlers that stormed through the library shortly after.

Their untamed energy inciting an unruly tornado that lasted all day.

My shift flew by in what seemed like scream-filled seconds and when I closed the doors for the day I was so ready to go home.

Staying at Miles’ had put a kink in my usual routine and I knew once I arrived at my apartment, I’d have to handle the responsibilities I’d neglected, but I’d like to think it was worth it.

I was fully aware that something real with Miles would complicate every single part of my life, and the funny part was that I wasn’t sure I even cared.

He had proved to me over and over that he wasn’t the person I’d created in my head and I felt myself accepting him, eager to finally start treating him like who he actually was, not like the illusion I’d imagined.

Nostalgia had overtaken my drive home and before I even realized my mistake, I pulled up to the farm.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This was no longer my home, even if Miles urged me to treat it as such, and that in itself was one of my biggest struggles with our dynamic.

As soon as I walked back in for the first time, I wanted to take over, and had to constantly remind myself to stay in my lane.

I kept driving, turning to take the back roads to get home, and my body slumped when I finally pulled into the lot outside my apartment.

Overwhelmed was an understatement.

The way I felt with him was something I’d never experienced, and I found myself conflicted. Did I want him or did I want the farm? But I knew if I longed for what was instead of what could be, I’d likely be left with neither.

Visiting the farm without assuming all its responsibility was a strange experience. It allowed my focus to be fluid, drifting from Blossom and Peaches, the market, and even to the man who lovingly urged me to dip my toe back into the world I once frequented.

It was freeing.

And as each day continued to pass, I became keenly aware that the present may actually be the true version of what I’d always wanted.

I walked through my door and my thoughts were immediately interrupted by the cats congregating on my balcony. Not even a single anxiety could penetrate through the chorus of mews loudly singing their displeasure regarding their missed meal time .

“Pitiful.” I chuckled.

I pressed the blinking answering machine, allowing my voicemails to broadcast as I rifled through the closet where I stashed their food, and as I opened the dishwasher to retrieve their bowls, I paused, surprised by the sound of my mother’s voice echoing through my apartment.

“Hi Sagey. I just wanted to call and let you know what a good time we had last night. Sorry dad and I passed out, it was just so comforting to have you in the house again. And Miles? My god, baby. I’m sorry I doubted your intentions.

I can see exactly why you’re drawn to him.

Wearing your father’s pants, I could barely resist myself. ”

I cackled as my father’s voice rang through, playfully harassing my mother about her comment, which was promptly shushed before my mother continued.

“Anyway darling, I hope to see you again this Wednesday…and I just wanted to let you know how proud of you we are. Love you, bye bye now.”

The machine clicked, moving on to my next message, which was just an appointment reminder that fell to deaf ears as I replayed my mother’s message over in my head.

There were a few things my mother seldom did, one was apologize, and the other was dole out praise.

I could count on one hand the amount of times she had done either, and I couldn’t help but choke up as she managed to encompass both in one short message.

Forgiving my parents was a battle, and at one point I vowed I would never, but seeing them again made me realize how much I missed them.

As I filled the bowls, I absently wondered what Miles was doing.

I hadn’t heard from him today, and now that Blossom graduated to bucket feeds, I didn’t have any real reason to go over in the mornings anymore.

But my thoughts were paused once again as I opened the sliding door to my balcony, ambushed by the freeloaders on my porch .

“You guys know you don’t belong to me, right? I could block my fire escape and you’d be forced to live life on your own.”

Ignoring me, they began chowing down on my offering, clearly confident that I’d never consider doing such a thing, and they’d be right.

So I continued on with the rest of my missed routine, watering my plants and tidying things before my growling stomach forced me to start dinner.

I’d lived independently of a man my entire life.

Cooking for one had become a skill, but for some reason instead of feeling my normal empowerment, I just felt lonely.

I’d always been a firm believer that you should be able to exist before you coexist, but what I began to realize was that I'd spent the last few years of my life avoiding connection to prove a point. I knew I could live alone. I knew I could run a home by myself, hell I could run a farm by myself. But the more time I spent outside of this mindset, the more I began to realize that maybe I didn’t want to.

As I laid the chicken on the grill, I made a silent vow that I would no longer refuse myself the joy of companionship.

Was I going to talk to Miles about the potential of marriage?

No. But I felt relief in giving myself the go ahead to explore whatever connection we had without the implications that it made me a lesser woman.

I flipped through the TV after dinner, toying with the idea of calling Miles just to chat, but before I needed to, a text came through.

Hi.

Hi.

I saw the bubbles appear on the bottom of our chat, just to disappear, and appear again as if he too couldn’t decide what to say.

Before long, my phone rang, and I chuckled as the picture of him and Blossom popped up.

I couldn’t help but snap a picture of them at Blossom’s graduation party, but when I looked back at the photo, I snorted coffee through my nose, immediately setting it as his contact photo.

Blossom had gotten ahold of her makeshift tassel, chomping away, which in turn had Miles laughing.

The perfect toothy mid-laugh smile caught on camera.

I took a moment, appreciating the adorable snapshot, before clicking to answer the call.

“Hello.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m an awful texter. My hands are dirty. I’m tired. The screen hurts my eyes. I don’t care if you think those things make me a grandpa, but I’m owning it. And damn, it's nice to hear your voice.”

I chuckled. “Long day?”

“Very. It rained most of the day, which means everything was coated in shit. My socks were wet half the day, which means I’m grouchy. I meant to text you sooner, but every time I tried to use my phone the rain made it so I couldn’t hit the right buttons…I miss landlines.”

“I have a home phone.” I giggled. “I like the thrill of answering without knowing who’s on the other line.”

“You’re a dream,” he mumbled.

I didn’t answer, instead allowing the familiar comfort to fill the silence.

“Miles?”

“Yeah, pretty girl?”

“Tell me something.”

He hummed in response, as if he was thinking about what to say.

“What do you wanna know?”

I paused, settling on something basic.

“What’s your family like? ”

“Oh.” He sighed, and the long pause that followed made me nervous. Did he have a secret wife? Murderers as parents? But after a few moments, his voice cracked through my intrusive thoughts.

“I don’t really have one anymore.”

It wasn’t the words that broke my heart, as much as the way his voice sounded as he said it.

“I’m sorry, Miles. I didn’t know. We can talk about something else,” I rambled.

“No, it’s alright,” he responded, his voice noticeably stronger than a few moments before.

“There isn’t too much to tell honestly. I’m an only child, born from two only children.

My parents had me later in life, so by middle school my grandparents had passed.

They wanted more kids, but when they tried, it never worked out.

I assume that’s the same reason it took them so long to have me in the first place.

We were all really close, I mean I worked at the same accounting firm as my dad until I bought the farm. ”

He paused for a moment and I could hear the porch swing creaking as he rocked, filling the silence as he searched for his next words.

“Anyway, my mom was diagnosed with late stage breast cancer and passed away about five years ago. My dad passed the following year. I think he missed her so much his body just couldn’t take it. There wasn’t much left in my hometown without them, so now I’m here.”

I wiped away the tears that had stained my cheeks. I’d been so awful to this man, and he was just like me, attempting to find his way amid the wreckage.

“I’m sorry I was so awful to you.”

“Don’t apologize, Sage. I’d rather you be authentic. I got enough pity back then. I don’t need it now. I’m happy here and I’d like to think they’re looking down at me proud as hell. ”

“I can’t imagine you sitting behind a desk all day,” I said, smirking as I pictured Miles' giant frame behind a tiny cubicle.

“I did it because it was the safe option. They were getting older and my hours were predictable. I didn’t work late, could help with the meals....”

“You did it for them.”

“And I’d do it five times over if I had the chance.”

“You’re not as bad as I thought you were,” I groaned.

He laughed a loud, beautiful laugh that echoed through the open air, shattering the heaviness that loomed around our conversation.

“I promise if you hang around the farm long enough, my other flaws will surface and you can cling to those.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Speaking of, how am I supposed to see you now that there's nothing enticing you to be at the farm?”

“I wouldn’t say there's nothing,” I whispered.