Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
It’s a great piece of land, and owning land is important. One day, I’d like to make the place completely self-sustaining, but it’s a work in progress. I have a garden right now, and most of the house is green. I also collect rainwater, and I have fruit trees and berry bushes. Mostly, I like my privacy. I like the wildlife and the quiet. And mostly…mostly, I like that I built this place with the goal in mind that I would gift it to Patience one day because, really, this was her dream since we were old enough to start thinking of dream houses.
She always loved gardening. Even as a kid, she could make anything grow.
I’ve never seen anyone adore camping as much as she did. She loves the land, the wilderness, the sky, the earth, and all things living.
And right now, I can tell that no matter how much she’s pretending to hate this place, scowling like her face has been crazy glued together in all the wrong spots, I know she’s one hundred percent head over heels in love with my mushroom. House. Err…the mushroom house.
“No!” Her scowl darkens like she’s about to rain down all sorts of shit on my parade. “You can’t live in a mushroom house. I forbid it!” She kicks her suitcase for good measure. It’s a hard shell, and it makes a weird noise when her fancy ankle boot connects with it. Thwomp.
Despite herself, her eyes flick up and down. When I said mushroom, it’s a real mushroom. Red roof, white spots, white curved body, arched wooden doors, and curved wood shutters with hearts carved into them. And an adorable stone chimney that is just for décor purposes. I went all out, going for the fairy tale picture book awesomeness that we dreamed of as kids.
“I already do, though.”
She doesn’t appreciate me pointing that out. Her nostrils flare, and her green eyes get insanely green. Like gem-tone green. The kind of burning bright green that could incinerate a person like a lightning strike. If I should have been called Poseidon, she should have been called Zeus.
“You took my idea. You stole it!”
“You said you always wanted to live in a mushroom house in the forest. It was your dream. We used to talk about it endlessly. You wrote so many stories about it, and you drew it all the time.”
“Yeah.” Another wicked flash in her eyes. I’m going to get charred on the spot soon. I know those lightning bolts of Zeus caused some real problems, although I haven’t read up on my Greek mythology like you’d think I would have, especially given my name. “It belonged to me! My idea. My dream. Not yours. You took it. You…you…you god of unoriginal thinking. You thief. God of stealing. God of asshole assness.”
“Why don’t we go in?” I suggest kindly.
She goes as red as the roof, and that beast is cherry hued. “Why don’t we not? You can’t do this. You just can’t. This can’t exist.” She shakes her fist at the house.
“It’s real.” I motion to the house, and I must be giving her an odd look because her lips purse and her whole face twitch. “Designed by a legit architect who specializes in custom builds like this. It went through all the correct permit processes and due diligence. No one had a problem with a giant mushroom being built out here in the middle of the forest. The construction crews did a great job. It’s all especially green as well. I didn’t think it would make a whole lot of sense to design something that looked like part of the earth and every single childhood dream come true and make it not very self-sustaining. That wouldn’t be conscionable.”
“You’re unconscionable, you buttnugget.”
“Buttnugget?”
“Turdwaffle.”
“Ahh, I see where this is trending.”
“Fartflapper. Pissant of an assbutt of an assbrain of a cheeseass.”
So inventive of her, as always.
“Ugh.” She tosses her hair when she swivels her head. It’s so sandy. So long. And so soft looking. She doesn’t like that I’m trying to beat her at her own game. She gives me the same kind of heavily disdainful look that she gave me yesterday after she signed the documents in front of the JP and both our fathers, who served as witnesses, albeit surly witnesses who didn’t want to be in the same room together and kept giving each other extremely hostile looks. She shoved the ring back in my face when I tried to slip it on her finger. I had to tuck it back into my suit pocket.
I went all out and picked out a black suit. A black dress shirt. Black shoes. All brand new. Not custom-made, though, because it was last minute. I wanted something special. Something I didn’t already own. Something that would be my wedding suit and only my wedding suit. For me, yesterday meant something. It meant I could save Patience and take her away from a town that was always too small for her. It was just one step on the road toward making things right with her. One small, fractional, ant-sized step toward redemption.