Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
He watches me as I type out a reply. “What are you saying?”
“That my girlfriend and I have plans all weekend, but that I hope she enjoys her visit to Jackson Harbor.”
“Think that’ll do the trick?” he asks, clearly unconvinced.
“Does it really matter? By the time I’m done doing wedding stuff with Teagan, she’ll be gone again.”
“Cross your fingers she doesn’t see you and throw herself at you in front of Teagan’s family.”
I groan. That hadn’t even occurred to me.
Teagan
I grin when I see the door to my suite cracked. Carter.
I haven’t gotten to spend time alone with him all day. The henna party spilled over into the afternoon—well worth it for the beautiful work Pari did, and the joy on Saanvi’s face when she looked at the final product—and then Saanvi wanted all of us to go with her to the Jackson Brews Banquet Center to check on how the room was coming along for the reception. Now it’s after two, and I’m already dead on my feet. We didn’t sleep enough last night, and I need a nap, but if I have to choose between a little sleep and being ravished by my fake boyfriend, I already know which I’ll choose.
Carter gives me butterflies, and I can’t wait to be back in his arms. I need to figure out where we stand—where I stand. I guess he’s made it clear what he wants. He wants more. He wants the real thing. And I think I do too.
I’ve never talked to anyone about what happened with Rich after Heath died. Never. I was always so convinced I’d sound insane—Rich convinced me of that. But once I started telling Carter, it all spilled out of me. Carter didn’t make me feel crazy or try to convince me I was overreacting. He listened and made me feel safe. Understood. I didn’t realize how much I needed that. So now I need to decide if what’s happening between us might actually become something real. Or if maybe it is already.
I push into the room and shut the door behind me.
“Carter?” The lights are off, but candlelight flickers ahead, the flames seeming to dance to Dave Matthews’ “The Space Between” from the bedside stereo. The song brings back memories, but I shove them away. Carter’s trying to be sweet. He has no way of knowing that I associate this song with Rich, or that Rich would always make sure it played any time we were at a bar or party together after Heath died—a little reminder that was like a razor blade running across the open wound of my grief.
“Carter?” I call again. Did he set the stage for seduction and leave? He’s a firefighter—would he really walk away from burning candles?
When I step farther into the room, my phone buzzes, and I wonder if it’s Carter explaining that he had to run out. Instead, I have a text from the same number that sent me that awful picture. Rich.
Unknown Number: You always made me jump through such hoops for your attention, but I know this night’s been on your mind as much as it’s been on mine.
My stomach free-falls before surging violently back up into my throat. Candles flicker all around the bed, and on the center of the mattress there’s a single red rose and a bottle of Swagger from Paradise Springs winery. The bourbon-barrel-aged wine used to be my favorite, but there’s only one person alive who’d know that or know that it and this song would all bring back memories of a night better left forgotten.
I’m tense all night.
The rehearsal dinner is served in the gardens behind the Hayhurst mansion. It’s so beautiful out here that I understand why Saanvi initially hoped to do her reception in this spot. However, destination wedding or not, the guest list grew too large, and the ballroom at Jackson Brews Banquet Center was the obvious location. I reassured her that Molly would do a beautiful job making the reception everything Saanvi’s dreamed of, but there is something magical about these gardens in the moonlight.
Strings of fairy lights twinkle above the tables, and a jazz quartet plays from their spot in the gazebo. We’ve enjoyed four delicious courses with wine pairings, and conversation flows easily as we wait for dessert. The night’s grown chilly, and the staff brought out big outdoor heaters to sit on the edges of the cobblestone patio, allowing us to be comfortable in our dresses and still enjoy the starry autumn night sky.
Everything’s beautiful, and I’m surrounded by my family.
I should be happy.
Instead, I feel like there’s a weight on my chest too heavy to let me take in a deep breath.
Before Carter returned to our suite this afternoon, I turned off the music and blew out the candles, throwing them in the trash with the wine and the rose. When that still left me feeling jumpy, I ran the bin to housekeeping and asked them to empty it. I needed to physically distance myself from the evidence that Rich had been in our room—from the reminders that he holds a secret of mine.