My heart pounds behind my ribs as I come face to face with her now, my gut a mess of nerves. She’s grown into her curves and filled out in a way that’s making my jeans tight. Wren Miller is drop-dead gorgeous—always has been, always will be—even with the terrifying scowl she’s wearing on her pretty painted pout. It would look more menacing if she weren’t currently wearing the ridiculous hat I got for Jett the summer we worked together.
“Nice hat.” It’s such a casual greeting given Wren and I haven’t seen each other in a decade, and that she’s all I’ve thought about for just as long. Wren’s mouth opens and closes like she’s considering a quippy comeback, but before she has the chance to say anything, Shelley’s phone rings. She pulls it out of her pocket, checks the screen and then looks back at us.
“I’m so sorry, I have to take this. One moment, I’ll be right back.” She answers her phone as she’s walking away, andnow Wren and I are left alone together. A soft breeze wafts between us, and the rustling of the trees around us is the only sound as we stand facing each other.
I scan her for any sign of the girl I used to love, but all I find is a starched, stiff-looking woman in stilettos carrying a bag that looks like it costs more than my six-month salary.
I could say a million things to her—how I hope she’s been doing well, how much I’ve missed her, how sorry I am—instead, I shift awkwardly on my feet. I’ve thought about this moment so many times, and now that it’s here … everything I can think of to say feels inadequate.
“I thought you worked at the firehall,” she snaps before I manage to get a word out. Her gaze is intense, those dark brown eyes boring right through me. I don’t know how much she’s heard about me over the years—I’m sure Poppy has passed along key pieces of information—but one thing is clear: she was not expecting to see me here today. My arrival is a surprise, and judging by the intense glare she’s directing at me, not a pleasant one.
“I do.” I nod slowly.
“Well then don’t you have more important things to be doing? Isn’t there a kitten that needs saving from a tree or something? Some little old lady you can help get across the street?” she hisses, keeping her voice low in case Shelley is still within earshot. “I’m sure we can fill you in later since VanTek will be taking on the bulk of the planning and design.”
A familiar feeling of inadequacy threatens my confidence for a moment as I cross my arms over my chest and my spine stiffens.
“As much as I would love to be helping a little oldlady cross the street, that’s not what we do. Besides, as a site coordinator, I like to be involved every step of the way,” I say, enunciating each of my words.
Her brow furrows as her eyes graze over me, flicking down to the steel-toe boots I changed into when I got here. Her mouth works as she considers the implications of this development. To be fair, I had no idea she’d be working on the project either. Surely, we can be civil with each other. It’s been ten years since our breakup, and despite the mistakes I made back then, she must have moved on by now.
But Wren always kept a running tally of my shortcomings and held them against me, so clearly things aren’t any different now. She’s still out to achieve her own ends, and still looks at me as an obstacle in her way.
She doesn’t say anything in response because Shelley is walking back towards us. Wren fixes her gaze straight ahead of her, lips pursed, arms crossed.
“Sorry about that. The assisted living place in Calgary was calling about my mom.”
“Is everything okay?” Wren asks, her voice kind and warm. Complete opposite in tone to how she addressed me. She’s plastered on a false look of concern.
“I think so. She has to go into the hospital for some treatment, but everything should be fine.” Her voice shakes, and if I had to guess, I’d say she’s worried that, in fact, it won’t be fine. I know the feeling. I lived with a constant sense of dread when my mom was sick.
“Will you still be involved with the project?” Wren asks, and I’m appalled that this is her biggest concern. Not whether Shelley is okay, not whether she needs some help, oreven understanding, but how it’s going to impacther. Wren. Shelley thinks for a moment before responding.
“As of right now, yes. But I’ll keep you both in the loop if anything changes.” Wren’s expression softens as she gives a tight-lipped nod.
I don’t know what Wren’s endgame is here. All I know is the woman standing in front of me today is not the woman I fell in love with a decade ago. Something fundamental in Wren has shifted.
The Wren I knew was not so self-serving. She didn’t plaster on a fake smile for anyone, and she wasn’t two-faced like I saw earlier. She wasn’t sweet and warm one moment, cold and calculating the next. She wasn’t cold and calculatingever.
But here we are, and I could not have predicted these circumstances of us meeting again. Nor could I have predicted she’d be so cold, so stuck up. Such a …snob.
The way she subtly glares at me as she suggests we continue with the tour is oddly familiar, and I suddenly realize why. She’s the spitting image of her sister. Claire, who Wren and I used to relentlessly make fun of as kids for being such a try-hard. So obsessed with academic success. She was so ruthless in her pursuit of it that she stepped on a lot of people to get there.
It’s amazing how little ofWrenI see in her now. I’ve had this imaginary version of her in my head for so many years, this woman I’ve been so hung up on. And now that she’s in front of me, I can finally let her go. Because I don’t love her anymore, I loved the version of her I made up in my head. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m not even sure Ilikeher.
I let out an involuntary scoff at the thought of how ridiculous it all is.
“Did you say something?” Shelley asks, looking over her shoulder at Wren and I following behind her. Wren teeters on her heels, trying desperately not to let them sink into the ground.
“The arts centre will be perfect here,” I say, plastering on a cheerful smile.
“I’m glad you think so, Hudson. Together, you and Wren will be able to bring the vision to life, create something special for the community. I have full faith in you both.”
Shelley finishes the tour by showing us the side of the lot that will need to be used for parking, and discusses how it will need to be graded as well as general considerations for paving. Wren nods along, as if she’s taking mental notes. She asks a few questions she obviously already knows the answer to—probably trying to sound smart—and I have to hold myself back from rolling my eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” Shelley says, holding up her phone again. “It’s my mom’s facility calling again.” Concern lines her face as she looks at the screen. “I’ll let you two discuss the plan, and we’ll be in touch in the coming days about how to proceed. Lovely meeting you, Wren.”
As she heads back across the empty patch of land towards the portable, Wren and I are left in a wake of awkward silence neither of us is too eager to fill.
