January
“You’re supposed to keep me calm, Rups.” Andie had waited until they’d gotten out of view and hearing before collapsing against a nearby tree. She covered her face with her hands and tried not to scream into the wind. “I am so absolutely buggered. Oh. I am fucked. I thought I’d managed to put him out of my mind. Move on. He’s still so… beautifully gruff.”
Rupert, as always, offered her a supportive wag of his tail. It made her smile. A little. Andie pushed away from the tree. Her plants wouldn’t water themselves.
Well, they would.
But that wasn’t the point.
Fishing her headlight out of her pocket, Andie fixed it on her head. The sun had already gone down. It set so early in January. She used a strong LED lamp to see her way around in the darkness—handy for ensuring she didn’t trip over tree limbs, rocks, or Rupert.
With the light blazing, Andie made a final walk through all of the polytunnels. The set-up allowed her to plant far earlier than she’d usually be able to. The raised beds and irrigation systems kept her seedlings flourishing through colder temperatures.
A quick check of her cats showed them all prowling about in the warmth of their cosy home. They did a fabulous job as chief mousers of her farm. She’d set up a lovely home and playground for them in one section of the barn.
“Shall we spy on the chickens, then head to the cottage?” Andie guided Rupert out of the structure. She shivered when the wind hit her; they were definitely in for a blustery evening. “Time to batten down the hatches.”
It took a good hour to ensure nothing was going to fly away in the night. Finally, Andie made sure to turn the lights on around the cottage. She didn’t want Doc to get lost in the dark; hopefully, he’d find the torch she’d left by the front door of the tiny house.
“Right. Shower first. Food after,” Andie muttered to herself. She made sure Rupert had water and his meal before once again shedding her muddy clothes and dumping them in the laundry basket. “Here’s hoping the entire evening isn’t a complete disaster.”
We can be friends.
We can just be friends.
It’s okay that he’s not interested in more. My heart can’t break any more, can it? So I can be cool and calm.
And I am talking to myself.
The evening was already going to be fraught with tension. Andie opted for thick flannel pyjamas and a hoodie. Not flattering, but she wasn’t fussed. Doc had already seen her completely covered in mud.
Cooking was usually a joy. Instead, today felt more like slow torment over hot coals. She’d narrowly avoided nicking her fingers while slicing up the mushrooms, kale, and sweet potato for her one-pot braised chicken dish.
It was hearty, warm, and filling. Also, it tended to make enough for at least a few more meals. The dish went perfectly with the crusty bread she’d baked the day before.
She lit candles.
She never lit candles for supper unless the power went out or she wanted to be exceptionally cosy.
“Am I trying too hard?” Andie asked Rupert, who peered up at her before lying back down in the middle of the kitchen on a rug. “Could you put yourself any more in my way? You won’t get any scraps if you make me fall on my knife.”
I am trying too hard.
“Are the candles too much?” Andie didn’t want Doc to feel pressured by the atmosphere. But she also wanted to be comfortable. “I’m overthinking this. Any suggestions, Rup?”
As per usual, Rupert was more excited by his treat than her blathering. Andie blew out the candles. They didn’t need an “atmosphere” for supper on the farm.
Maybe I shouldn’t be wearing flannel pyjamas.
Will he get the wrong idea?
Or maybe the right one?
She changed her outfit three times, managing to stop herself on the fourth since each one was almost identical to the last. T-shirt. Jeans. Cardigan. The only change had been the colours or design. What am I even doing? She returned to her pyjamas and hoodie.
Panicking. I am panicking. I should stop.
Pyjamas are fine.
By the time the stew was ready and Doc had arrived, Andie managed to calm herself. She could be calm. Normal. Not panicking. Friends had dinner all the time.
Doc hadn’t spoken much when he arrived. He’d patted Rupert, then sat at the table with a muttered “Hello.” He waited until she was ladling the braised chicken stew over the lentils to speak. “You seem anxious.”
“What?” Andie dropped the spoon, spraying both of them with sauce. Fuck. “Oh for… I’m sorry.”
“You seem anxious.” Doc stared while she rushed to find a kitchen towel to clean the mess up. He reached out to grab her hands when she went to clean his shirt. “We’re friends, right?”
“Right.”
“So, calm down. We’re both nervous over nothing at all. We’ll eat. Talk about the weather or your berries or Rups.” He released her hands, taking the towel from her and cleaning the sauce off his flannel shirt. “We’re okay.”
“Okay.” Andie found herself getting lost in his eyes, enjoying their closeness for the briefest second, then stepping back. “Friends. And we’re okay.”
And I am so fucked.