“Damn. How many questions do you plan on asking me?” I snap out.
Autumn waltzes by us. “Patterson, you’re here. Perfect timing! I need your height. Don’t interrupt their carving. They have fifty pumpkins to finish, and I need help hanging string lights in the gazebo, please.”
He gives her a look. “I’mnotgetting on a ladder. Last thing I need to do is get injured.”
“It’s a step stool. Quit being a baby,” she says, shoving the stool into his hands. “You’re helping. Come on.”
Julie presses her lips together to keep from laughing.
“You’re so bossy,” Patterson tells her, but he’s following Autumn.
“You have no idea,” Zane says with a laugh.
We carve until the table is a battlefield of lids and pulp.
Zane gathers up the seeds while Autumn puts on a playlist of 2000s throwbacks that makes Julie shimmy her shoulders while she carves. I pretend she doesn’t undo me but fail. By the time the sun starts to slide behind the mountain, we finish the last of our pumpkins.
“Okay, well, I carved faces,” Zane says, glancing between our pumpkins. “You two assholes decided to be artists.”
“Ready for the reveal?” I ask Julie.
“Yes. We should line them up on each side.”
Autumn comes to us. “I’ll turn the fake candles on, and then I’ll give you a thumbs-up when they’re all lit, got it?”
We nod, standing at the end of the sidewalk as she does what she said. Zane and Patterson light the ones on the porch.
“You’re good to go,” Autumn yells as she, Zane, and Patterson move inside, leaving me and Julie to ourselves.
“This is the reveal I’ve been waiting for,” I admit.
I take her hand, and the two of us stroll down the sidewalk.
The soft glow throws light across us, and for a second, I forget we’re here for the pumpkins.
We start at the end, and I realize she’s carved a sea of stars across all twenty pumpkins. There are hundreds of stars, cut delicately, like a constellation map. At the very end, she’s carved a couple kissing in a window.
“Holy shit,” I mutter. “Is that us?”
“Yes,” she admits.
“This is incredible, Jules.” I place my hand on my heart. “I’ve been humbled. I’m not worthy.”
Julie nudges me with her shoulder, her eyes still glittering like the constellations in the pumpkins. “All right, champ. Let’s see if the legend lives up to the hype. Show me yours.”
The first few pumpkins are apple trees. Their branches carved so thin that they lace together like veins of light, tiny apples dangling like lanterns. Julie’s lips part, and she leans closer.
“The orchard,” she mutters, seeing a couple lying on a blanket.
“It was so damn special, being there with you,” I say.
I move us along, and the light from the next set spills across her face. It’s the building of Cozy Coffee, downtown, followed by a coffee bar. I nearly lost my mind, getting it right. The final one is a steaming coffee cup. The steam patterns are so delicate that they almost look like lace.
Her laugh breaks the silence. “Wow.”
“Did I win?” I tease, though my throat feels tight.
Julie’s face softens. “Nick … these are …”
