Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“I’ve never done that before,” I tell Finn as we watch.
“Do you know where it originates?” Finn asks.
“No idea.”
He steps close. “It started in Europe and was used to figure out if two people were meant to be lovers.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re totally making this up.”
“I swear, I’m not. It’s how they determined their soulmates. They’d put several apples in a bucket, each one representing a potential partner. Women would bob for their crushes apple. If she accomplished it on her first try, it meant they were soulmates and were destined to be together forever. If it took her two tries, it was known that they’d date for a while but it wouldn’t work out. Three tries? Just forget it.”
I chuckle. “Can you imagine building your entire relationship on crunching into an apple on the first try. That’s hilarious and seems ridiculously hard.”
“It is hard, and it’s a true story. At some point, they changed it to figure out who’d get married first. There also used to be an old superstition that if you slept with the first apple you bobbed under your pillow, that night, you’d see the love of your life in your dreams.”
This makes me snort. “That’s wild.”
“I know. Wanna try it?”
“Nah, I think I’m gonna pass on that one. But wait, that looks fun.” I point at the children a few tables down with fishing poles. Each has a rod with a magnet attached and is trying to catch apples in a field. Each fruit has a number written on the side of it.
“What’s the objective?” I ask.
“They let people ‘fish’ for two minutes, and the person who racks up the most points wins a prize.”
“Cute.”
“You really wanna play? Unless you’re scared of getting your ass kicked.”
I playfully gasp. “Never. You’re on.”
After the current participants finish and a little girl chooses a teddy bear, Finn and I step up.
“Thanks, Charlotte,” Finn says to the woman who explains the rules. She looks like his mother’s age and has a kind smile.
Charlotte counts down, starts the timer, then Finn and I get to work. Right off the bat, he snags three points. I’ve never wanted to win so badly at something, but I’ve never been the competitive type, hence the painting. When I glance over and see his pile stacked next to him, I know it’s a losing battle, but I don’t give up.
I didn’t realize how heavy apples are to pull in. I’d have better luck actually fishing.
The timer buzzes, and my three points look ridiculous compared to his fourteen.
“You’re well practiced.” I pout with an arm on my hip. “Probably were doing this in the womb.”
“Guess I’ll stick with apples, and you stick with painting.” He shoots me a wink, then leads me to the prize table. “Lady’s choice.”
There’s a stuffed apple with a heart embroidered on it, and I pick it up and squeeze it. “Thank you.”
“Anything for my girl.” He brushes his lips to mine. I melt into his kiss, and when he lightly slides his tongue against mine, a burst of heat rushes through me. I grab the hem of his shirt with my free hand, wanting to get lost in him.
“Okay, I gotta use the bathroom, then we can get outta here if you want,” I tell him when we break apart.
Finn walks with me to the inn, and I hand him my stuffed apple before going inside. I have to maneuver around a crowd of people talking, then wait ten minutes for a turn.
Once I’ve washed my hands, I walk back outside but stop in my tracks when I see Finn talking to Aspen. He looks less than pleased, as if she cornered him when she found him alone.
I wait in the distance and hate that I’m jealous when Aspen places her hand on Finn’s arm.
She looks like she’s pleading with him, but he keeps a straight face. It’s obvious that whatever she’s saying is important to her, but he’s brushing it off. After another minute passes, I make my way over.
Finn leans down and plants a kiss on my lips. “Thank God,” he murmurs so only I can hear.
“You ready?” I ask loudly.
“Yep. Are we finished here?” he barks at Aspen. I remember when he used to act that way toward me. That’s him building an unscalable wall around himself.
“Finn, please,” she urges. “You can’t deny what we shared for five years. No one can change that.” As she emphasizes her words, she glances at me. Then she bravely takes a step and reaches out for him. He leans back, avoiding her touch.
His tone grows colder. “It’s over. It’s been over, Aspen. I’m in love with Oakley, so go back to your fiancé.”
My heart thuds at how easy that spewed from his mouth.
It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.