She gets up to leave after saying goodbye to Scarlett—someone who’s easily become one of my closest friends in such a short amount of time. Funny how just days ago I wasn’t married, and now I have another sister-in-law that I enjoy spending time with, who likes me back and is somehow rooting for this weird, fake marriage to her older brother.
“Hey,” Scarlett presses her hand on my shoulder, her expression serious. “I’m sorry if I put you in this position by suggesting you guys remarry. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
I shake my head. “No, this is great. This is going to be good. I’m optimistic that we’ll pull this off, I just…” I trail off, biting my lip nervously.
“Regan, you can ask me anything you want. I won’t betray Hayes’ confidence, and I won’t betray yours either. I get you don’t want to pry into Hayes past, and I really respect that but if there’s any doubts or concerns, you can ask me.”
I nod. “I know. I just feel weird voicing this to his sister.”
“Go for it. I swear I’ll be impartial, and I won’t disclose anything he wouldn’t want me telling you. He can be terrible at letting people get to know him which is a shame because at his core, he’s a solid and loyal guy.”
“Okay… I just—gosh, it’s strange to think about what happens next in all of this. I’m not leaving the property, and neither ishe. We’re joint owners. Even if we divorce, we could split up the land, I suppose, but how strange would it be to live here, this close to him… with him and another woman… or vice versa.”
She nods quietly. “It’s definitely a weird situation, but if you both mutually agree to do that, I think you could be mature about it. It shouldn’t be hard if neither of you has caught feelings.”
“Yeah…” I trail off again as she moves to stand but I’m already thinking about what she said about catching feelings. I like him. We’re not enemies. We’re sort of friends. But we’re also... I can’t describe it.
Unfinished?
Maybe we shouldn’t even start then.
“I’m going to take the golf cart up to the cottage and go to sleep. But Regan, my brother can be pretty closed off and tough at times, but let me tell you, I’ve never seen him look at another woman the way that he looks at you. And there’s no one—no property good enough—that he would ever sacrifice his freedom for and marry over. He must trust you a lot to do this. And I don’t just mean trust you not to fall in love with him and get weird. He must trust you with his heart and his dreams. His future.”
Trust me?
She gives me a soft smile and then moves to the door, closing it gently behind her, leaving me alone with that thought.
What does that mean? Why would Hayes trust me?
I don’t have time to spiral, not when I’m staring down the wrinkled to-do list clutched in my hand, half of it crossed out, the rest mocking me with little unchecked boxes and urgent scribbles. My wedding is in two days. Two. And there are still at least fifty things left to do.
I blow out a heavy sigh, one that rattles in my chest and does absolutely nothing to calm me down. I wrote the damn list during a bout of sleeplessness two nights ago, the kind where your brain refuses to shut off and every small detail feels suddenly life-or-death. I’ve been crossing things off since morning, but somehow, the list keeps growing.
Whatever. I’ll just stay up another couple of hours, run on caffeine and anxiety, and try to knock a few more things out. Sleep is overrated anyway… right? And I certainly won’t spend the time spiraling over what Scarlett said about Hayes.
Chapter 19: Hayes
It’s two in the morning when I finally stumble through the front door of Mrs. Mayberry’s old home. The faint buzz of exhaustion is humming beneath my skin, yet I feel wired. Typical for me after a long night shift. Exhausted, yet horny, with nowhere to release all the adrenaline that’s coursing through my veins.
My shift ran late, but it was a slow night—the kind where I even managed to sneak away for dinner during the lull, a rare treat of Mac n’ cheese and green beans.
The house is wrapped in that deep, velvety quiet that only comes in the middle of the night, and I expect nothing less than darkness and the faint creak of old floorboards settling to welcome me. What I definitely don’t expect to see is Regan wide awake sprawled out on her back in the middle of the living room floor like she’s making friends with the ceiling. Her eyes are glassy and fixed on some point beyond what the rest of us can see.
“Are you okay?” I whisper, though there’s no one else here to hear me.
Scarlett moved out to stay in one of the cottages two days ago when the realtor dropped off the keys, leaving the house eerily still and the tension between passing Regan every morning palatable. The front door wasn’t locked again, something I remind myself I need to talk about with her. Yeah, we’re in the middle of nowhere in the country but I don’t want to take any chances. And I certainly don’t want to be worried about her safety while I’m trying to work.
“No,” she replies flatly, not even flinching, not even turning her head. Her voice is hollow and empty with no emotion behind it.
I approach her slowly, like she might bolt if I move too fast. My heart races and suddenly I worry what this means for me. Forus. Is she backing out?
“What’s wrong?”
She finally moves slightly, just her hand, pressing against her chest like she’s trying to keep her heart from breaking free.
“I’m overwhelmed,” she breathes out, the words tumbling in a rush. “I never stress out. I… I make plans, sure, but I don’t lose sleep over them. But this? This feels different. It feels like I… like I’m unraveling. The wedding isn’t just a wedding. It’s supposed to be a freaking showcase. A Marshall family production, starring my brainchild our new wedding business. Myvision. My gamble. If it fails, it’s not just me that falls on my face—it’s my whole family,” she sighs. “The whole Marshall name will go up in flames because of me.”
“Regan,” I start, but she steamrolls right over me, her voice picking up speed like she’s afraid to stop.
