Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
That punch turned out to be the high point of the night, and Truman peeled off, making his way back toward campus. He’d had only the vaguest sense of where his dorm was, so he’d let his GPS guide him. When he saw the cemetery to his left on the map, he’d veered toward it and found himself in the dark quiet of the Garden District.
It was such a relief to be away from the din and chaos of the Quarter that Truman hardly cared the gates to Lafayette No. 1 were shut for the night. He skirted its perimeter, appreciating the snatches of music issuing from the open windows of the handsome houses that bordered its walls. He stood on a jutting stone and peeked inside. The darkness was impenetrable a few steps in, but he could make out the ornate tombs just on the other side of the wall.
He contemplated hoisting himself over but decided that getting arrested for trespassing (to say nothing of being haunted) on his first night away from home was not ideal, so he just dropped a pin in his GPS and promised himself he’d come back the next day.
He had, and it was even more beautiful than he’d imagined in the dark. It had become a retreat for him when he needed to get off campus, get away from the stresses of class or the demands of friends. And it had stayed that way until the other afternoon.
The peaceful beauty of Lafayette No. 1 was now enmeshed with the memory of peering through Guy’s window and seeing the life his boyfriend actually lived.
“Ugh,” Truman groaned.
“What’s wrong?”
Ash pulled the envelope off the front door of Thorn and unlocked it, holding it open for Truman. Bruce, apparently thinking the polite gesture was for him, entered at the same time, almost wedging himself and Truman in the doorframe.
“Bruce, you silly thing,” Ash muttered, pulling his leash.
Truman smiled. “My dog is even bigger than Bruce,” he reassured Ash. “So I’m used to it.”
“Yeah? Got a picture?”
“I might have one or two,” Truman said breezily, then grinned and thumbed open his phone, which contained 2,786 photos, surely 2,458 of which at least were of Horse.
Truman showed Ash one of Horse with his head thrown back against an autumn sunset. He was standing in front of a brightly painted Marigny house.
“Wow,” Ash said. “He’s huge. And so sweet-looking.”
“Yeah, that’s my guy. Horse.” When Ash kept peering at the picture, Truman scrolled to the one Greta had sent. “Greta sent this. She thinks Horse is in love.”
“With…this small horse?”
“Maybe.”
Ash smiled. “Trust Greta to find a miniature horse right away. You want a drink or something? I’ve got tea and seltzer.”
“Sure, I’ll take a seltzer. Thanks. Er, is Greta…a horse girl or something?”
Ash looked rather blank at that. “Nah, she just…has a tendency to find the most interesting things wherever she goes.”
Then he disappeared into the back of the shop, leaving Truman to wander around. The same bouquets that had been in the refrigerated case before were still there. At least Truman thought they were the same. The buckets of flowers weren’t full, but Ash had a number of different kinds. And Truman hadn’t seen any customers either time he’d been here. It couldn’t be an easy business in the winter on an island.
“Do you do most of your business through online orders or what?” he asked as Ash handed him a seltzer. “Thanks.”
“No, not yet. It’s, uh, it’s on my to-do list,” Ash said.
Truman perked up. “Ooh, are you into lists? What do you use? I was just trying a new app the other day, but it wasn’t intuitive at all.”
Ash cocked his head in that particular way he had that seemed to say Huh? and Why? simultaneously. “A to-do list is useful,” he said slowly. He sounded uncertain.
“Oh, ha, never mind.” Truman bit his lip. “I’m a list fiend.”
“A fiend, huh?” Ash was watching him intently.
“Yeah, well. So do customers just pop in, then?”
Ash ran a hand through his hair. The hat had made half of it fall out of his ponytail, and it hung in soft curves around his face. “Business is pretty slow in the winter. I’ve been meaning to set up an online order thingy, but…I haven’t.”
“I could help, if you want,” Truman offered. “That is, I work from home, so I’m flexible, and it’s Saturday, so I’m not working at all today. I’m good at…the internet,” he finished pathetically.
Ash was rubbing the scarred wooden counter, his capable fingers tracing designs Truman couldn’t recognize.
“That’s a really nice offer,” Ash said slowly.
Truman could see the yearning in his face, but he hesitated.
“Um. I don’t have a computer for the shop, and mine is pretty old. But I can get it. I live in the apartment upstairs.”
“I can just get mine,” Truman said, head already buzzing with how he would set up Ash’s website to make ordering easy.