Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
“Are you eating without me?” Palmer popped up and scared Kent, even though he’d heard her. He hadn’t expected her to move so quickly.
“No, just testing to make sure they’re not poisonous.”
“Really? That’s the excuse you’re going with, Wagner?”
This banter from Palmer was new, and Kent liked it a lot. It might have had something to do with the gummies Raúl had given her. Kent didn’t care either way. She was happy, and that in turn made him happy. “I mean . . .” He tried to shrug, but that only brought the taco closer to his mouth, and he couldn’t resist eating the rest of it—including the piece of parchment paper he bit off.
“I have half a mind to throw these out.” Palmer held the bag up and then started laughing.
“What’s so funny? Is there something on my face?”
Palmer set the bag in her lap. “No, your face is perfect,” she told him. “Your smile caught me off guard.”
“What? Why?” Kent asked. He worked to keep the grin there just for her.
“I don’t know, you seem different this morning. Almost like you’re free of something.”
Kent shrugged. “I have no idea, but if whatever it is keeps you looking at me like that, I hope it stays forever.”
“Me too,” she said quietly. Palmer’s attention drifted toward the bag on her lap. She took out a taco, unwrapped it, and handed it to Kent, and then did the same for herself. She finished one, which was the most breakfast she’d eaten in some time. A couple of bites here and there was the most Kent could get out of her lately.
After Kent devoured the bag of tacos, he found a place for them to pull over and rest for a bit. The rest stop had a nice shady area, and he laid a blanket out on the ground, under a massive oak tree, for him and Palmer. He lay on the ground while Palmer sat up against him. Once again, she had her journal out.
“How’s our list coming?” Kent asked.
Palmer looked off into the distance and absentmindedly pulled the loose-leaf sheet of paper out from the front of her journal. “I’ve marked off the ones we’ve done and added some we’ve mentioned in passing. It seems we have more to do, and not much time to do them in.”
Kent swallowed hard and fought back the urge to cry. He cleared his throat before he even tried to speak. “What do you write about in there?” he asked and then quickly followed with “Don’t answer that. I’m sorry for prying.”
“You’re not prying.” She closed the book and set it on the blanket. “I write about the things I’ve seen or experienced. I write about a song we listened to or what the clouds looked like in a certain town. Sometimes I write about things I want to do and I’ll never get a chance to do.”
Kent rolled onto his side, and Palmer adjusted. “I told you I’d teach you how to drive.”
“I don’t care to learn.”
“Oh. Did you write about enjoying those gummies from Raúl?” Kent teased.
“I wrote how they make me feel better and how I don’t feel so much pain.”
“That’s good. I should’ve thought about them earlier.”
“I appreciate them now.”
He motioned toward the book. “What else do you want to share?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s embarrassing.”
“There isn’t anything you could say or put down on paper that should be embarrassing for you, especially where I’m concerned.”
Palmer picked her book up and flipped through the pages. She cleared her throat and read:
We’re on our way to Las Vegas, the place I once thought would be where I got married. Having no family, I figured the Little White Chapel would be a great place. Little did I know that the one relationship I had wouldn’t last long enough to get to that point.
Palmer closed the book and set it aside. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them.
“You wanted to get married in Vegas?” Kent asked, and Palmer nodded. “So, let’s do it.”
Palmer’s wide eyes met Kent’s, and she shook her head slightly. “What? Don’t be silly.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
She didn’t answer and turned away.
“Seriously, look at me.” Kent waited, and when Palmer didn’t budge, he adjusted, giving her no choice but to look at him. “Have I ever said something that I didn’t mean?”
Palmer looked off into the distance and shook her head. “This is wholly different than agreeing to take me on a trip.”
“First off, I didn’t agree to do anything. I asked you, remember? And second, I’m asking you this as well.” Kent got onto one knee. He may not have had a ring to give to her, but being on bended knee felt important. “I know this seems a bit unconventional, but this feels right. Palmer Sinclair, will you marry me?”