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“Lucy, I don’t know what to say.” Again, more honesty because I’m completely clueless when it comes to heart-to-hearts, especially when heartbreak is involved.

“You don’t have to say anything. Take this next right,” she says, and I obey, pulling onto a gravel road.

“You hungry?” she asks. “Because I’m starving.”

“I can’t say no to food,” I reply, trying to shake off the heaviness of what we just shared, and search for a free spot in the grassy makeshift parking lot.

I put the car in park and look up to see we’re at a farmer’s market and café in an old, converted silo with a black-and-white awning. We exit the car and walk up to the window to order.

“They have the best peach slushies.” Lucy beams, and I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “I figured it was a good time to grab a late lunch. That way, when we get back to town, we don’t have to leave the apartment for the night.”

“Oh, really?” I waggle my brows. “I didn’t know you wanted that kind of an agreement, but I guess I could take one for the team.”

“Beau!” She playfully smacks my arm. “Because of the people. I basically live smack-dab in the center of town.”

“Whew.” I tease her a little more. “I thought maybe you were going to keep me locked up in the bedroom.” I laugh.

“We do need to set some ground rules, but first, food.” As if on cue, her stomach rumbles loudly, causing her to blush, and we exit the car.

The closer we walk, the more I can smell the delicious aroma of fresh fruits and BBQ smoking. I breathe deeply, taking it all in. The fresh flowers, the salty food, and the sweet treats—ah, they smell mouthwatering.

“What’s good here?” I look over the menu of BBQ, pimento cheese sandwiches, chicken salad. It all sounds incredible.

“Ev-er-y-thing. My favorite is the chicken salad.”

“Afternoon! What can I get y’all?” The lady working the stand smiles at us kindly.

“We’ll have a couple chicken salad sandwiches with your homemade chips and two large peach slushies.” I look to Lucy, and she nods approvingly.

“That’ll be $27.45, please.”

I reach for my wallet, but Lucy’s hand shoots out to stop me.

“No, Beau. I’ve got this.”

“No, please, I insist.” I pull out my card and hand it to the lady before Lucy can stop me.

“Food should be up in a few minutes. Your order number is 214.”

“Thanks.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says.

“I know, but I wanted to.” She smiles up, and then it falls slightly when I add, “Besides… it’s a business expense.” They hand our drinks out the window. “Thank you.” I take a big swig of my slushie. She wasn’t lying—it tastes like I’m drinking fresh peaches on ice. “Mmm-mmm. This is delici—shit, that’s cold.”

“Brain freeze?” She tried to hide her smirk behind her own cup. “You’ve got to go slow.”

When her pretty pink lips wrap around the paper straw, I forget all about my brain freeze.

“Order 214.” They call our number, and we grab our food.

“Wanna sit and eat really quick?” she asks.

“Sure.”

“Thankfully, the lunch rush is over, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find a spot. How about over there?” She points to an empty picnic table beneath the shade of an old oak tree.

“Perfect.”