“I kept waiting to care more about losing him than losing the quilts. I kept waiting to feel…heartbroken.”
“It still might come,” she says. “It’s only been a couple of days.”
“It might,” I say. “But also maybe I liked the idea of Paul more than I liked Paul himself. And maybe…” I hesitate. “I’ve liked the idea of being loved more than I’ve…loved.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then she says, “We’re so much alike.”
I nod. Mari never had a dad, and I lost mine when I was six. Both our moms abandoned us in various ways—mine for her singing career and hers because—well, she was flighty and irresponsible. We were both raised by family members who couldn’t fill the void our moms had left behind.
We’ve talked about it a lot. Mari’s mentioned how she had trouble settling down and staying in Rush Creek with her husband, Kane, because she’d gotten in the habit of staying in motion so she could never want to belong somewhere and get rejected.
I thought I’d reached some peace with my own wounds because settling down in Rush Creek and letting myself be loved by Mari and her friends and Paul and his family had felt easy?—
But maybe it had partly felt easy because?—
“Maybe I wasn’t scared of losing Paul because it wasn’tscaryto lose Paul.”
She makes a soft humming sound. It’s not agreement. But it’s not argument, either.
“Damn,” I say with a huge sigh. “Back into therapy.”
She grins. “Never stops, does it?”
27
Rhys
That fucking kiss.
Every time I take my dick in my hand, every time I make myself come in the shower—muscles rigid, eyes slammed shut, hand slapped against the wall to keep myself upright—I feel like a complete hypocrite, because I said no and I want, want, wantyes.
I want her in every possible way—next to me at a quilt show, curled up against me in bed, under me while I pound my frustration out in her.
I want to eat Doritos with her and tell her about my childhood, I want to hear more about her grandmother’s mean love, I want to see her in every pair of those cheap panties, I want to buy her the expensive versions and tear them off her.
I can’t stop thinking about her.
Over the next few days, my grandfather’s legacy continues. I go back to my temporary job as a wedding planner. I dive into rescuing Leah and Penelope’s disassembled wedding. Leah and I stay on top of the vendors to make sure nothing else goes awry, and the event comes off without a hitch.
I begin the process of unwinding the Eden-wedding disaster. I sit down with Hanna and update her on as much of the story as I can. I tell her about the drive, the car trouble, the rental-car issues, the walk along the side of the road, Eden’s sore feet, the flight. I leave out the quilt show, the pretty underwear, the kiss, the way her round ass felt against my swollen cock.
For obvious reasons.
Even so, I think Hanna sees through my sketchy version of events. She gives me a long, curious look before saying, “I take it she wants to cancel the rescheduled wedding.”
“Yeah.”
It was one of the last questions I asked Eden before we left Sioux Falls.Do you want me to cancel the wedding?
I held my breath while she bit her lip, but finally she gave a short, tight nod.
I raised my eyebrows.You can leave it a few days longer if you want to—just in case.
She shook her head, and I felt a wild, stirred-up mixture of relief and the same hopelessness that had followed me around since I’d first met Eden in New York.
I hang my head, and Hanna sighs. “What’s going to happen?”
“We’re going to beg Weggers for mercy; that’s what’s going to happen. And if that doesn’t work, I’m going to figure out what our legal recourse is. In the meantime, maybe we leave things the way they are. Just till we know what all our options are.”
