April
Why is my face wet?
I don’t like this dream.
Andie swiped at the wet thing on her face, then groaned when she realised Rupert had gotten on the bed. She pushed his nose away from her ear. “Rups.”
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Andie gradually eased out from under the blankets and Doc’s arm. He continued snoring, utterly unaware of her early morning escape. Rupert followed her down the hall into the bathroom.
“Give me a second.” Andie dragged on her thick robe and shoved her feet into her slippers. “Patience, Rups, patience.”
Aside from a surprisingly heavy snowfall around the middle of the month, April had brought out what Andie loved about spring the most. Daffodils had bloomed. The fields and trees were beginning to go green again, with sunny skies overhead.
“Why are you always so ready to be awake in the morning?” Andie stared tiredly down at Rupert before starting the coffee machine. She led him outside. Doc had surprised her with a fancy machine to replace her simple electric kettle.
He claimed it was a surprise for her. Andie thought it was more for him. He liked his fancy coffee as much as she enjoyed overpriced kitchen gadgets that she often used once every six months, if that.
It did make good coffee.
Delicious coffee.
“Ready to step outside?” Andie crouched down to give Rupert a good scratch. “You ready?”
Rupert danced around in a circle, knocking her backward. Andie chuckled while he licked her face. She finally managed to get out from under him.
“Shh. You’re going to wake Doc up.” Andie guided him outside and gently eased the door shut behind her. “Off you go.”
Clouds diffused some of the growing morning light. A pinkish-orange hue began to take over from the hazy dark blue of dusk. Andie breathed in deeply; the temperature was just the right side of crisp for her to enjoy.
It was going to be a lovely spring and summer. Andie had hope for the future. All her family had gotten vaccinated, and the world seemed on the precipice of opening up a little at a time.
She hoped to see her parents before another Christmas went by. They had months and months to go since they wanted to wait a while to ensure travel would be safe for her grandparents to come with them. She was holding on to her natural inclination toward cautious optimism.
Wrapping her robe more tightly around her, Andie whistled for Rupert, who’d vanished across the farm. She wasn’t quite ready for a trek down the lane. Her fluffy house slippers weren’t meant for the outdoors.
The door opened behind her. Doc came up to wrap his arms around her. She leaned back against him.
It was something they did now, hold each other. Andie didn’t think she’d ever get used to the change the past year had brought to her life. She sometimes found herself waking up early to watch him while he slept.
Because he was there.
“You’re thinking heavy thoughts this morning.” Doc rested his chin on her shoulder. His voice was deep and gravelly like always when he’d just woken up. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Thinking about how I never imagined we could be here when you vanished after we kissed in the orchard.”
“I wasn’t ready.” Doc squeezed her gently. He swayed with her slightly, almost as though they were dancing in the glow from the sunrise. “I had to know myself better.”
“In your fifties?”
“You’re never too old to learn about yourself, love. Never.” Doc was silent for a minute. Andie waited for him, well-versed in his need to carefully put his thoughts together. “I definitely identify as asexual. I watched those videos you shared and read everything you shared with me. It’s… freeing to have a word. To have whole paragraphs to express what I’ve always felt about relationships.”
“Powerful, isn’t it? Knowing you’re not alone.”
“Yes.” Doc nodded. Andie shivered when his beard tickled her neck. “I can say what I am. Not be ashamed to be who I am. I don’t enjoy sex. I’ve never been sexually attracted to someone. And that’s okay.”
“It is.” Andie had done everything she could to help Doc in discovering his identity. “I’m proud of you. Not easy to teach an old sea dog new tricks.”
“I’ve never once been a sea captain. I just resemble one.”
“It’s the beard.”
“It is.” Doc nodded once again. “Not sure I was prepared for a relationship before.”
“Then I’m glad we found our second chance when you were ready.” Andie whistled for Rupert one more time. He bounded up to them, slipping past them into the cottage. She leaned back against Doc as they watched the sun make itself known over the horizon. “It’s a quiet life.”
“A nice life.”
And it was.
A nice, perfect quiet life on a little farm filled with love and laughter.
“You could say I’ve gone from farm to Fabre,” Andie teased Doc.
“Quite possibly the worst joke you’ve ever made.” Doc stepped back from her with a chuckle. “Coffee’s about done. Ready to start the morning?”
Andie nodded, feeling like they were starting more than just their morning. “Just been waiting for you.”
“I’m here.” Doc smiled when she slipped her hand into his. “Is this an ‘I love you’ kind of moment? Feels like one.”
“I’m glad you’re here. And I love you.”
“I love you even though you made a terrible farm-to-Fabre joke.” Doc laughed when she poked in him the side. “Maybe it should be farm to fable? Because having a happy ending seems more like a fairy tale than anything else.”
“A happy ending is a happy ending. You’ve found yourself a farmer instead of a damsel in distress.” Andie led him back into the kitchen. She breathed in the smell of the fire he’d started and the freshly brewed coffee. “And we’ve got Rups instead of a dragon.”
“Good. I have no idea what to do when people are in distress.” He leaned against the counter, grabbing the mug he’d made for himself. “If this is a fairytale, then what’s the moral of the story?”
“Know thyself before you can kiss under the apple trees?”
Doc snorted into the coffee. “Don’t quit your job to become a poet.”
“Everyone’s a critic. Fine. What’s your take on the moral of our story?”
“There is none.” Doc took a long sip from his mug. His eyes twinkled when he glanced at her. “Morals come at the conclusion of the story. And ours is barely begun. So why write the end before we’ve even gotten past the first chapter?”
“Oh.” Andie blinked back a surprising burst of emotion. “That’s lovely. Maybe that’s the moral of the story.”
“What?”
“If love is a story, write it a chapter at a time.” Andie reached for her mug of coffee. “Instead of trying to skip to the end.”
“Good advice.”
“And always have your own blanket in bed.” Andie laughed when he rolled his eyes. “Duvet thief.”
***
We hope you’ve enjoyed this sweet escapism. Looking for more from Dahlia Donovan, check out All Lathered Up for free. You may also enjoy The Misguided Confession, a stunning shifter romance.
Looking for more asexual characters? Check out Dahlia’s Motts Cold Case Mystery Series—Poisoned Primrose, book one.