DAY 17
DAY 17Tomorrow is the last day of the harvest festival, and Oakley has been painting her ass off, trying to finish in time. After she worked on it for a couple of hours this morning, we strolled through the pumpkin patch.
Once it got too crowded, we grabbed coffee, then left. Oakley’s deadline is looming, and all finishing touches have to be added so it can dry.
When we walk into my house, she immediately grabs her brushes and gets to work.
“Am I bothering you?” I ask, standing behind her and admiring her delicate brushstrokes.
“No, not at all. You’re the only person I don’t mind watching,” she admits, looking over her shoulder. “Grab a seat if you want. I’m just adding a few tiny details.”
“Wish I could, but I have some work to do today.”
She smiles. “I understand. You know
