Page 80 of Once Upon a Fall

And I can’t do anything about it. He’s leaving.

Well, not until the thirteenth. He extended his stay to keep working on selling the farm. But every room at the inn is booked from the fourth, so he’ll be up in Burlington.

Still around. Just not here.

Which is almost worse. I’ll be running a festival, he’ll be out past the bridge, and we’ll never once be in the same room. So close. And yet not.

I walk over to him and wrap my arms around him, my cheek going to his warm chest. I’d much rather kiss his handsome face off, but that will just make things worse, so a hug it is.

He pulls me in, his arms going around me, his chin resting on my head.

“What am I supposed to do about dinner when you’re gone?” I ask his shirt.

“You have a microwave.”

“Definitely not the same.”

He huffs a laugh, and I feel it more than hear it.

It isn’t entirely a joke, but I’d rather he take it as one.

I pull out of the hug and give him my best thank-you-for-coming-into-my-life smile. It’s toothy, and Dean gives me an odd look, like he’s wondering if I’m okay.

I’m not. For many reasons.

“I’m knocking festival tasks off my list, and then I have my birthday dinner at my dad’s house tonight, so I won’t be able to paint the Snow White room until I get back, but it won’t go too late,” I tell him.

He scrunches his brow. “Your birthday dinner?”

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s my twenty-ninth birthday today. Well, mine and Dominic’s. I hated sharing a birthday with him growing up, but now I don’t mind.”

“Your birthday is today?”

“Yes,” I say, squinting my eyes at him, not understanding his confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shrug. “I keep forgetting myself.”

“You don’t seem like someone who would forget birthdays.”

“Right? I’m very good at remembering everyone else’s.”

“Of course,” he says.

We stare for a second.

“I think it’s been hard since my mom died,” I say. “She used to make the day all about us. We’d get to pick the meals and our own birthday cakes. She’d decorate the house. It just never felt the same after that.”

Dean’s expression softens. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I give him a smile because suddenly this conversation has gotten heavier than I meant it to. “When is yours?”

“June second.”

“Sounds like a good day for a birthday.”

“How so?”