Page 44 of A Bittersweet Summer

“Could you guys do me a favor?” Lennon asks, looking around at the chatting guests. “I think the table by the fire pit needs a new package of hot dogs for roasting. Possibly some s’mores ingredients. Also, make sure to check on the bread I set out there. I need to know how that’s going over for future baking ventures at the bed and breakfast.”

Cass gives Lennon a salute. “On it!” she says, gliding over to the fridge to procure the package of hot dogs.

Lennon nudges my arm before addressing me. “Better follow your fiancée,” she jokes, her gaze pointed. “It would be weird if you didn’t.”

For the sake of ruining Chad’s ego, I mutter, “Right.” Cassidy shoves my arms full of food before I find myself trailing behind her like a lost puppy.

The sun has set, replaced by a deep indigo sky—almost black.

Away from the city lights, stars begin to peek out from the light dusting of clouds as gentle murmurs sound from around us.

As expected, the hot dogs are completely gone, and Lennon will be glad to know her sourdough has been a hit.

“So,” I start, pulling the pocket knife from my jeans and cutting open the hot dog package. “What made this little grand opening so popular?” I ask. Cass carefully opens the cardboard box of graham crackers. “Does Lennon have some kind of influential connections, or are all these people as afraid of her as I am?”

Cassidy laughs, the sound pulled from deep in her belly. “No fear. She’s just been documenting the journey on a blog for years. Runs an Instagram account all about purchasing an old home and restoring it, believe it or not.”

I nod, grabbing the bag of marshmallows and cutting across the top to open it. “A real dream for her then?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cass responds, meticulously placing each chocolate bar as if she’s working on a very important display.

“And what about you?” I prod, my hands stilling after pocketing my knife. “If you didn’t have to think about anybody else, what is it you’d want to be doing?”

She looks deep in thought for a moment, abandoning the chocolate display as she looks toward the stars. I wonder if she believes she’ll find the answer there.

“I love my current job,” she admits, and a bit of pride has me standing straighter. Cass looks down before continuing, embarrassed. “I’d like a family one day.” Her voice is almost a whisper; I have to strain to hear. “A family and my own farm. I don’t know—something simple and fulfilling. My parents are divorced.” She winces. “I think I already told you that. I just don’t like the idea of that ruining how I see love. I don’t want to give the divorce that much power.”

“Mine divorced too,” I admit. “Soon after, they left the farm to me.”

“Ah.” Cass organizes some of the items on the table, pausing and then reorganizing them into a position she likes better. “I see your parents' divorce didn’t ruin your view of love,” she says, and my brow furrows. “Considering you’re engaged to me for the night.”

I grin, shaking my head as we finish setting up the table. I’d like to think it's true that my parents' divorce didn’t have an effect on me. Unfortunately, it did a lot more damage as an adult than I think it would have done as a child. I felt… sad.

How could they spend all those years building a life together—all that time working toward growing the farm and making it successful just to throw it all away?

It felt like a waste, leaving me questioning if I got married, would I one day wake up and believe I’d made a thirty-year mistake?

It made me cautious—fearful.

Not Cassidy, though. Per her nature, the darkness that found her in her childhood, her brother's sickness, and her parents’ divorce, none of it could suck the hope out of her.

I admire it.

A haughty laugh sounds from the chairs around the fire pit, and I spotChandlerthere. He adjusts the expensive watch at his wrist, the girl he came with leaning into his arm from her seat next to him.

“Well, I don’t think that man would do well on a farm,” I comment, noting Cass’s small chuckle.

“Pray tell, what makes you say that?”

Another laugh booms out of him. It feels forced and deep—too much like he’s trying to take up space and be noticed. I wince.

“First of all,” I start, “with a laugh like that, he’d scare the horses.”

The snort that sounds from Cass causes me to laugh, too. I’d do just about anything to see the joy on her face when she realized what I’d said. Cass has always been joyful, and I feel a personal obligation to preserve that part of her. It’s a rare quality—one worth coveting.

It’s part of the reason I felt so inclined to swoop in and suggest we pretend we are together. I didn’t want Chad sucking that joy away, but knowing what she just told me, I’m not sure that was a risk to begin with.

“God, that was embarrassing,” she says, her giggle subsiding. “I’m sure the snort I just released would scare them, too.”