Gina was going to make one up, but nothing came to mind. “They’re expensive. But the point is, I could go to one if I wanted.”

  “You could watch one online for free or just a couple dollars. Have you done that?”

  Gina tried to take a calming breath. “Let’s just forget about the opera. The point is, there are opportunities in the city. It’s energizing and exciting. And it’s crowded, so you can be anonymous, which is very freeing. It’s so close to Poulsbo that Wren and I could have seen each other all the time, but she wouldn’t even give us a chance.”

  “Maybe she wanted a girlfriend and not an occasional visitor.”

  “And maybe I wasn’t prepared to be that committed,” Gina said, but the words sounded hollow to her. She sighed, feeling her shoulders sag under the weight of honesty. “Or maybe I was scared of our relationship because letting go of Seattle felt like I’d be abandoning myself and everything I worked so hard to make happen in my life, throwing away my chance at a really amazing career.”

  Maia reached over and clicked a bookmark, opening Gina’s Instagram on the screen. The partial photos of Foam and Wren appeared and made her breath hitch the same way it always did when she saw Wren, or even just the edge of her boot.

  “I’ve been following you for a long time, even before we became friends,” Maia continued. “If I’d noticed that your content seemed stifled or weaker because you weren’t in Seattle, I’d tell you. But if anything, you seemed to expand in the types of posts you did, like you were more inspired. Your photos are even better, too. What might be more important to you, but shouldn’t be, is that your numbers have been steadily increasing. Cities can be very inspiring, but so can beautiful natural places. I think something there—Poulsbo or Wren or both of them—gave you a fresh perspective. Besides, you said it yourself that Poulsbo is close to Seattle. Even if you lived there, you could go to…”

  She paused as Gina glared at her, daring her to mention the damned opera again. “You could go to the symphony whenever you wanted. I’m sure you do that all the time. But it would be better, because it would be you and Wren sharing it together.”

  “Look,” Maia continued, putting her hand on Gina’s shoulder and giving her a squeeze. “There’s something special about you and about the way you communicate with words and pictures. You don’t have to follow the route everyone else is taking, going after the same sponsors every other micro-influencer is courting. The really big names in our business make their own paths. Keep making connections with Seattle businesses if you want, but don’t let them or any other influencers define your brand or your journey.”

  Gina thought back to the way ideas had flowed through her in Poulsbo. She had been forced to be more creative because she wanted to keep from exposing her location in pictures. She hadn’t been able to rely on sharing photos and videos from her backyard or the block around her apartment. She had relished the way her more expansive thinking was changing her content, but she hadn’t considered letting it change the way she approached marketing, too. She had been convinced she needed to follow the crowd when it came to the money side of her business, even though it had never felt comfortable or right for her.

  She sighed. Even if she convinced herself that she could live in Poulsbo, she wasn’t sure if Wren would ever be willing to take her back. The more time she spent away from her, the more she was starting to see that maybe a new dream had replaced the old one. She might be too late to make this one come true, though.

  Maia seemed to sense that Gina’s ability to keep up this conversation was nearing an end. She closed her browser and patted Gina on the knee. “Enough sad talk. We’ll feed you some Nashville barbecue and show you around. Tomorrow, when you’re more rested, we can do some brainstorming for both of our careers. By the time Sunday comes, you’ll be rested and ready to do what you need to do to make yourself happy. And I’m expecting you to get up and sing your favorite aria at the open mic.”

  Gina swatted at her, laughing and releasing some of the tension she held inside. Maia made it sound easy—find out what would make her happy, and go get it. And when Gina thought about true happiness, it wasn’t tall buildings or crowds of people she pictured. It was, quite simply, Wren.

  Chapter Twenty

  Wren flicked the black mesh fly sheet over Foam’s back and smoothed it into place. She buckled it in front of his chest and under his belly before fishing a crumbling treat out of her pocket and holding it on her open palm for him to nibble.

  Maybe she should do a video on her homemade horse cookies. Since her earliest days spent learning to bake and cook, she had experimented on horse treats until she found a few that were irresistible, in Calypso’s opinion. She had added dog treat recipes to her repertoire once she had moved out of her parents’ house and could have them as pets.

  Wren sighed and unclipped the crossties from Foam’s halter. She led him down the barn aisle and outside into the sunshine. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this new habit of hers—an affliction she had obviously caught from Gina—to turn every thought she had while taking care of her horses into a potential topic for a video. On the one hand, she had always had plenty to say on just about every aspect of equine care and training, but she had rarely had people around her who were as interested in discussing them as she was. Even her most horse-obsessed students had limits to their patience when it came to debates about riding theory or musings on horse products and practices. She had needed to widen her search to encompass the entire world, but she had managed to find a few people online who were as intrigued by odd and interesting equine issues as she was.

  On the other hand, though…computers.

  Wren wasn’t happy with having computers take up even a tiny corner of her universe. She wasn’t sure if she was selling out to the insidious appeal of these technological black holes that just might—Gina’s and Dianna’s jokes aside—steal her soul, or if she was making a positive step toward being more open-minded and adaptable. For now, she was comfortable letting the conundrum simmer in her mind while she made a few cautious steps into the online world, always willing to pull back if necessary.

  What she wasn’t comfortable with was the way any thought of videos or computers led to thoughts of Gina. She had been gone for almost a month, and Wren had expected the pain of losing her to be fading by now. She should be moving on to some other stage, shouldn’t she? Anger or acceptance or anything less awful than the sadness she felt. She was functioning and getting on with her life, but she would always be aware of how much richer and more fun that life would be if Gina was sharing it with her.

  She slipped Foam’s halter off his head and shut the paddock gate. She could probably make things a little easier for herself if she made a few changes. Banish computers completely, which had worked just fine for her since she had done it the first time as a teenager. Take down the photos from Gina she had hung in her house—in her bedroom of all places, which was just about the stupidest thing she had ever done.

  It was almost as if she didn’t want to move on.

  She started back toward the barn when Grover suddenly tilted his head to one side, staring toward the front of the property. He took off in the direction of the driveway, and Biscuit tore after him.

  Wren sighed. Company. She didn’t have any lessons scheduled, so it must be one of the owners out to ride or discuss their horse’s training progress with her. This was happening more and more frequently, since the three new clients she had taken on after the show had increased by another three who had contacted her because of her videos. Word of mouth and the internet were tied so far. Wren wasn’t pleased with either one of them since these new clients were seriously cutting into her brooding-over-Gina time.

  She followed the sound of Biscuit’s excited yips and halted on the edge of the gravel lot when she saw Gina’s car. The moment too accurately mirrored the one from weeks earlier, when Gina had first arrived. Now, though, she got immediately out of her car and was hugging Grover while Biscuit raced in circles around them.

  Wren wanted nothing more than to join the pack and take Gina in her arms, but she hung back, uncertain what Gina’s arrival meant, or what she wanted it to mean.

  Gina finally stood up and faced her. Wren remained silent, waiting for her to speak, to explain why she was here. Gina took a couple false starts, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to say, either.

  “You fixed his hair,” Gina said with a smile, ruffling the fur at Grover’s neck, where she had attempted to cut out the spilled glue.

  “Yes,” Wren said, biting back the urge to make a joke or a sarcastic comment. She was surprised by how easy it would have been for her to slide back into effortless banter with Gina. Talking to her had always felt very natural, in a way Wren had never experienced before with anyone else. It almost felt as if she had merely gone to the store and was back, not as if she had left for good. Almost.

  Gina’s smile faded, and she crossed the distance between them. She halted just out of reach. “Wren, I’m so sorry. I know I’ve made a mess of things. Of us. I was hoping we could talk.”

  The inflection on her last sentence made it a question, but it took a moment for Wren to register. She was supposed to say something now, but she had no idea what it should be. Okay, I’d like that? Or her old standby Get the hell off my property?

  “Fine. Talk.” Wren cringed inwardly. Apparently she was taking the caveman approach of You talk, me listen. Still, the bare words were all she could manage when her thoughts and emotions were racing chaotically through her mind, not to mention her desire to touch Gina and make sure she was really standing there. Her brain didn’t have enough energy leftover for verbal finesse.

  Gina visibly took a deep breath before she spoke. She looked down at Grover, who was sitting next to her and leaning against her leg. “I’ve missed you,” she said. “I knew I would, but I didn’t realize how much. I thought the most important thing for me was to get my life back to the way it was before I came here, and I didn’t stop long enough to notice that I had stopped missing most of it once I got here. The important things, like my career and being creative, are part of me, no matter where I am. The rest of it just didn’t matter as much as it had before because I was here with you.”

  Wren scuffed at the gravel with her boot, and Biscuit pounced on the moving pebbles. “You left as soon as you had the chance, though. You didn’t seem to have any doubt about where you wanted to be.”

  Gina spread her hands as if in surrender, then dropped them back to her sides. “The dream was too ingrained for me to just ignore it until I got my city life back and understood just how empty it was. I thought being in Seattle was the only way to be successful, but I was wrong.” She paused and looked at Wren. “You said the city was a symbol, and I’ve been thinking a lot about what the city really means to me. What it stands for. When I was younger, people looked at me and found something to mock, so I wanted to be where people wouldn’t even bother to look at me in the first place. Being an anonymous person in a sea of hundreds of thousands of others seemed safe.”

  Wren shook her head and took a tentative half step forward. “Hiding who you are can’t be the answer.”

  “I know that now, but when I was a kid, protecting myself was the priority. I couldn’t understand that what I really needed was to find people who looked at me and liked what they saw. I found that when I connected with others online who had similar interests and hobbies, but I found it even more here with you, where even though we’re very different in some ways, we still respect and find value in each other.”

  Wren frowned. She had loved the same thing about their relationship because no matter how much they teased or didn’t relate to certain aspects of each other’s lives, they had never expected the other to change significant parts of their identities. Until Gina had said she was moving away. “I didn’t feel respected when you offered me, of all people, an online relationship.”

  Gina winced, as if the words caused her pain. “You’re right. You said then that I didn’t seem to get you at all if I thought you would accept those terms, but you were wrong about that. I knew you wouldn’t want us to connect that way, but I was desperate enough to try. I wanted my old dream back, but I also wanted to keep hold of my new one. You.”

  She continued before Wren responded, as if she needed to say the rest of her thoughts out loud as quickly as she could. “I like Seattle and what it has to offer. It’s a great city, and I’ll always want to be close to a place like it, where so many unique people and places all come together. But I don’t need to live there, copying other people’s blueprints for a successful career. I can be happy being close enough to it to visit every once in a while, and I could be happy if I exchanged it for another city. But, you…Wren, I love you. I don’t want to live someplace else and only see you part of the time, and I could never find someone to replace you.”

  Wren knew more would need to be said about this, and she still ached from being apart, but right now she desperately needed to feel close to Gina. She walked over to Gina and wrapped her arms around her, threading one hand through her hair and putting the other on her lower back, pulling her close. Gina looped her arms tightly around Wren’s neck. Neither seemed willing to let the other go, but Wren pulled back enough to be able to look Gina in the eyes.

  “I don’t understand why you ever thought you needed to follow the crowd to be a success,” she said, resting her forehead against Gina’s. “From the first moment we met, I could tell you were unlike anyone else I’d ever known. And, like your followers, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I love you, too, Gina. If I didn’t, I might have been tempted to try things your way, at least for a while.”

  Gina shook her head. “I’m glad you said no. It wouldn’t have worked.” She moved her hands down until her palms were resting on Wren’s chest, just below her collarbones. “Although it might have been a little bit fun. You’re really sexy on the screen.”

  Wren laughed. “Even when I’m talking about leg wraps or bridles?”

  “Meh,” Gina said, with a small shrug. “It helps if I mute you.”

  Wren pulled out of her arms and gave her a playful swat on the hip. “I can’t believe you just said that. Way to ruin a special moment.”

  It hadn’t, though. If anything, the return to lightheartedness made the moment seem even more real. Laughter and joy were a big part of what they had had together, and Wren was ready to explore whether or not they could get it back again.

  Gina laughed, as if she felt the same way. “I really can’t believe you’re making online videos. Welcome to the grid, Wren.”

  Wren rubbed the back of her neck. Her lifestyle was a confusing blend of old and new right now, and she had a feeling Gina’s return—if she really was planning to stay—was a sign of more upheaval to come. “My house is still off-limits,” she said. “It’s an oasis of solar power and limited EM waves, but I’ve made a few compromises in the barn. If you want to see, I’ll show you.”

  Gina nodded and tentatively reached for Wren’s hand as they walked. Wren took the opportunity of paying attention to where she was going and not looking directly at Gina to ask the question nagging at her mind.

  “What now, Gina? Are you still wanting to split your time between your new place and here? Because I don’t think I can—”

  Gina squeezed her hand and made her stop. “My new place is a hotel. I was sort of hoping I could come back. Maybe rent the barn apartment or something? Anything, as long as we have a chance to be together.”

  “That might be a problem,” Wren said, trying to sound reluctant even though her heart seemed to be doing some sort of celebratory dance in her chest. She might need to get to a hospital if it didn’t settle down. She stopped at the foot of the staircase and turned to face Gina, gesturing with her head toward the apartment above them. “I’ve turned this place into my social media studio. I’m even thinking of using the kitchen for filming a video about making horse treats.”

  “Well, since this place is taken, maybe I could move into the house.” Gina said the words with a shrug, as if they didn’t matter, but Wren could read her expression well enough to know how much they did. She leaned forward and kissed her, moving her lips slowly across Gina’s and feeling an overwhelming sense of rightness.

  She rested her forehead against Gina’s. “I think the dogs and I can squeeze you in. I’ll put a basket on the front patio, though, and you’ll have to leave all your tech in there before you come inside.”

  She started up the staircase, hearing Gina’s laughter behind her. “I’ll leave some of it, but not all. I’ll need my laptop, my phone, my—”

  Wren paused on the landing and held up her hand. “I think you’re misunderstanding what the word need means.”

  Gina grabbed the front of Wren’s shirt and pulled her into a kiss that was fierce with longing and relief. A brush of her tongue made Wren open her mouth, welcoming Gina home without any lingering hesitation.

  Gina moved an inch away. “I believe I know exactly what the word need means.”

  Wren grinned at her. “That was an impressive vocabulary lesson. I have a few other words I’d like you to define for me, too. Later, though. For now, welcome to Lindley Farm’s IT department.”

  She stepped back and opened the door with a flourish. Gina stepped over the threshold and looked around.

  “Cozy,” she said with a choking sound as if she was fighting back laughter.

  “I don’t want to get too comfortable here,” Wren said. The room was bare, just as it had been when Gina left, except for a folding chair and Gina’s old upturned bucket.

  “You actually got a computer,” Gina said, gesturing at the small laptop perched on the bucket.

  “The cheapest one they had,” Wren admitted. “The more expensive ones came with more features.”

  “And you want to enjoy it as little as possible,” Gina finished for her, finally giving up on restraint and laughing.