“Kind of,” I said with a grin. “But one where we all actually want to be there.”
“Do we though?” Gavin parried, and when Cade gave a light punch to his arm, he changed his tune. “Alright, okay, yes. I don’t have an issue with it.”
“So you weren’t joking?” Cade asked me. “You want us togroupdate her?”
“Why not?” I shrugged. “If we’re all in on it together, it feels less like…I don’t know, we’re trying to win something.”
“Trying to win me,” Allie corrected me, one brow raised in playful disapproval.
“Right, which would suck,” I agreed. “But if we take that out of it, I think it could work. I mean, this whole thing has been unconventional. We’re freaking married and we’ve never been on a proper date. Seems like we’re doing everything a little backwards, you know?”
Allie’s gaze met mine then, and there was something unspoken that passed between us. Something that made my chest ache a little. There was so little about the quickie wedding in Vegas that any of us remembered outside of the drag queen officiant, so I wasn’t delusional enough to think the visions that flashed through my mind of Allie smiling at me beside an archway of flowers were real memories. Then there were other flashes, Allie in a white dress, Daphne at her side—crazy pipe dreams, but worth fighting for regardless.
“Speaking of which,” I said gently, “we still need to get the annulment sorted.”
Allie’s smile faltered, and it felt like a stone dropped to the bottom of my stomach. She nodded anyway. “Right. Yeah.”
“We’ll go meet with the lawyer together,” I decided on a whim. “And after that…our first real date.”
“What a way to celebrate our marriage ending,” Allie commented, laughing a little. It cleared away the weird, sad mist that had started to enshroud us.
There was silence in response. A heavy, thoughtful kind, but not quite as scary as it had been before. Eventually, Gavin broke it, deciding, “Fuck it. I’m in.”
Cade’s serious face broke into a little bit of a smile too. “Alright, yeah. Why the hell not?”
Allie looked at the three of us like we were slightly insane and completely impossible—and maybe we were. But then she smiled. Really smiled, her face like sunshine and strawberries and cream and everything good in the world, as cheesy as that sounded. She looked like hope, and I felt it all the way to my bones.
Even if we were doing things backwards, maybe we were still headed in the right direction.
25
CADE
The bell over the door gave a soft chime as I stepped into the small shop, a quiet little place with shelves lined in carefully curated home goods. Handmade ceramics, candles in glass jars, delicate linens—every inch of the space felt deliberately designed for comfort and something like luxury. At least luxury to someone who had grown up working class like me. It smelled like cinnamon and honey, the kind of scent that could make someone imagine a home they didn’t even have.
I wasn’t sure what I was doing here.
Selling, technically. The small selection of wooden bowls, coasters, and candle holders I carried in my bag had been meant for another shop in another town. But I’d found myself wandering into this place instead, hoping the owner might be interested in carrying my work. Business, I told myself. That was the reason I was still here, just far enough from my own regular life for it to be inconvenient but not nearly far enough for it to be an exotic adventure, an escape from that mundanity. I was still in the same town as Allie Tate because I saw an opportunity to work toward my business in a new location.
Not because of Allie.
Obviously, it was bullshit. And not even convincing enough bullshit that I believed it inside my own head. If I was honest, I was already looking for reasons to root myself in this town. To linger. And every time I closed my eyes, I pictured her. I pictured us.
Not that I had hope that I had a real chance.
I set my bag down near the front counter, flexing my fingers before sliding them into the pockets of my jacket. The store was quiet, save for the murmured conversation of a young couple and their child browsing near the back. I watched them absently—the way the father lifted his small daughter up so she could see the row of delicate bird-shaped salt and pepper shakers, the way the mother laughed as the little girl clutched them like they were toys, making little tweeting sounds.
They were a beautiful family. And at the sight of them, I felt something tighten in my chest.
I thought about Daphne, a little girl I hadn’t even met yet, and felt an unsettling twist of nerves. If she was mine, if she wasn’t…both possibilities rattled me in ways I didn’t want to own. I wanted to be the kind of man who could step up no matter what, but I wasn’t sure what that would mean in this unconventional situation. What it would mean to be there for Allie. For Daphne. Hell, even for my friends.
“Can I help you?”
I turned toward the voice. A tall, dark-haired woman behind the counter smiled, her eyes flitting down to my bag. She was pretty in a polished kind of way, with a sleek ponytail and a cardigan that looked soft enough to be expensive.
“Looking for the owner,” I said, my voice a little gruff. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m, uh, a woodworker. And I’m hoping to see if they’re interested in carrying some handmade pieces.” I unzipped my bag and pulled out a bowl, the rich grain of the wood catching in the shop’s warm lighting.
“Oh, wow.” She reached for it, and I let her take the bowl from me, her fingers brushing over the smooth finish before she lifted it to inspect it more closely. “This is beautiful.” Her eyes flickered toward me. “You made this?”
