Page 92 of Whiskey Proposal

Hillary giggles. “What if you lose?”

I suck in a scandalized gasp. “Lane calls me Scrappy.”

She doesn’t buy it and crosses her arms, a tiny reflection of me. “Clem lugs books around all day.”

“She also gives tours at the distillery and writes.” I straighten my arm, rotate it, and flex. A small outline of my triceps shows. “I type a lot too. See? I’m tough.”

She giggles. “Daddy would get mad if you got in a fight.”

“Yup. So let’s go.”

Hillary doesn’t move. Her eyes are more fraught and she’s shrinking in on herself. “She might hate me. And then she’ll tell the other kids⁠—”

I ignore her and pull out my phone. I type in the search engine. “The largest domestic breed of rabbit is the Flemish giant.”

“I know that.”

“They originated in Belgium and have a catlike temperament.”

“Daddy won’t let me get one.”

I start walking to the library, and she follows me like she’s forgotten the fear that froze her only a minute ago. “Is it because they can weigh almost twenty pounds?”

“I told him I would take care of it.” We reach the door, and she frowns, looking down the walk. At her accusing scowl, I shrug. “Have you used the facts I sent you?”

I should whip out her ten chicken facts every time I think about Lane presenting me with divorce papers. “I haven’t needed to.”

What if I get the papers ready instead?

A band tightens around my ribs. I swallow and my throat burns. But I’d be in control. I wouldn’t be waiting, and there’d be relief in that. Right? I’d be in control.

That man makes me feel like I’m spinning through space. He’s always there to catch me too. But one day, he may not be.

Clem walks by and grins when she spots Hillary. “Hey, girl. I’ve been looking for you.”

“You have?” Hillary turns shy.

“We just got some new books on the shelves. You get to be the first to see them.” Clem cocks her head to follow her.

I wander behind them, and a message buzzes on my phone.

Lane: Thinking about you.

I chew the inside of my cheek to hold back a grin that I might have to explain if my niece sees. When they stop to check out a middle-grade shelving unit, I half turn and type out a message.

Me: I haven’t thought about you for one minute today.

I nibble my lower lip. Three dots flash on the screen.

Lane: Not even when I was coming inside you?

I catch my moan before it slips out. We showered together after he took care of the cattle and I finished feeding and watering the chickens. Good thing he’s one of the bosses and that plane waited for him.

Me: I was thinking about the turkeys I’m going to go buy.

Lane sends a picture of a roasted Thanksgiving turkey, and my laugh cracks through the silence.

Clem and Hillary look at me. The spot between my shoulder blades itches. I’m getting stares from the other side of the library.