She nodded, biting her lips together again.
“Oh honey, I’m sorry. I knew you really liked him.”
Liked was an understatement. Once she’d recovered from the guilt over leaving Randy at the altar, she’d feltalive. And more recently, after Giovanni, she felt a strange optimism, like she wasn’t getting roped in for a lifetime of living someone else’s dream. But Vince… that had been awful. She’d drowned in his pheromones, which he’d shared with half of their class. Apparently, he lacked the objective eye their instructor had pushed, and enjoyed having their classmates model nude for him… but felt they were much more relaxed if they’d slept with him first.
Nausea rolled in her stomach, remembering his flippant expression when she found out, claiming she’d never be the artist he was if she couldn’t loosen up about that sort of thing. She hadn’t worked up the nerve to tell her mother about the embarrassingly brief engagement.
“It’s okay. We’d only been engaged for about twelve hours before I ended things.”
Her mom yanked her close and wrapped her arms around her. “Okay. No date.”
Inhaling her mother’s familiar lilac scent, she felt her muscles untense, the threatening tears fade away. “I still date. Regularly and enjoyably. Just no visions of wedding bells. Please. I’m done. If the third time is the charm, what is the fourth? I call it stupidity.”
Tammy nodded against Freya’s collarbone. “Lots of people find happiness without needing to get married to find it.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She backed up a few steps, ready to finish unpacking so she could get started on that wedding gift. “Invite me to breakfast Saturday?”
“Will do.” She hugged her mother again and waved from the porch as Tammy strolled down the path, then halted. “By the way. I already gave Seth’s mother your number.”
Shaking her head, she laughed. “Ifhe calls, andifhe seems likeable still, I’ll see if he’s up to attending a wedding with me. Have a good day at work.”
3
Which is More Dangerous?
Freya sat bolt upright in bed. A loud crack shattered the quiet of the night. Taking up half the volume of her chest, her pounding heart was about to bust through her ribs.
What the hell was that?
Scanning the back field, she climbed out of bed, staying in the shadows and peering outside. The half-moon was high in the sky, its glow illuminating only the most reflective leaves and rocks. Hearing nothing more, she sat on the foot of her bed and watched the darkness through the French doors that led to the back field.
Okay. It was nothing. Just her imagination, right? Her pulse was still ticking at twice the speed of the hall clock, but it was probably just a weird dream.
She was about to lie back down, when she caught a glimpse of a figure rustling the shrubs across the yard. Blinking, she rubbed her eyes and looked again.
Nothing. It’s fine.
No, that wassomething. And it wasn’t a deer. Nor was it hunting season.
Tiptoeing out of her room, she went to wake Sophie. Bedroom door wide open, bed made… Shit. Her pulse kicked up a notch as she remembered Sophie was crashing at Asher’s tonight. Great. What was the point of having a roommate when there was a potentially violent, armed creep in the backyard, and she wasn't home to tell you it was just your imagination?
Keeping to the shadows, she snuck back into her room and grabbed her phone. She leaned against the headboard, scanning the field through her window as she called her cousin.
Asher answered on the second ring. “Freya? It’s after midnight. You okay?”
Whispering for a number of foolish reasons, she said, “I’m fine. I just… I think I heard a gunshot, and I think I saw someone outside.”
She heard the sheets moving as he sat up. “Are you sure? Call 911.”
“I’m not sure. It could totally have been my imagination, then I’ll feel stupid for having called.”
“Call anyway. No one would fault you for being cautious.”
“But why would anyone be shooting guns and sneaking around in the middle of the night?”
“Just call the police.”
