I drive to the barn. It's comfortable most mornings, but this morning, a new undercurrent hums beneath it all. Not dread. Not regret. Heavier. The weight of what's coming. The fight we're about to take on.
As I push open the double doors, there it is, a mug, steaming on the corner of my cluttered worktable. A ritual that means more now, a promise between co-conspirators, between … whatever we are.
I wrap my hands around it, letting the warmth settle me. Today, I don't question it. I don't dissect it. I hold on to it.
Mason sits cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by plans and timelines, a solid presence against the sprawl of fabric swatches and sketches covering the barn. Methodical. The structure I didn't realize I'd come to rely on.
I set my supplies beside the mug.
"Ivy should be connecting any minute," I say, opening my laptop and adjusting the screen. "Fair warning, she's been dealing with Italian wedding vendors all week, so her patience for anything sane may have left the country."
The barn door creaks open, followed by Savvy's laugh. My heart gives a small skip.
"Maddy!" she calls, stepping inside. Henry follows close behind, looking tanned and relaxed in a way I've never seen, like Scotland softened edges I didn't know he had.
Savvy's eyes sweep over the swatches and half-built floral arch held together with zip ties. "This either ends in magic or with you banned from ordering in bulk."
"Why not both?" I grin, throwing my arms around her. The hug is long and grounding. "So? Did you guys go castle shopping?"
Henry follows, dry amusement in his expression. "She found one. I talked her out of putting in an offer."
Savvy bumps him with her elbow. "It had a turret. You try saying no to a turret after two glasses of champagne."
Henry's gaze shifts to Mason, still seated among the renderings and what suspiciously appears to be a hot glue gun clipped to his belt. "Comfortable?"
"Shockingly, yes," Mason says, standing to shake his hand.
"Well, I'm glad to see no one's plotting murder," Savvy says, settling into a client chair. "Maddy's emails were vague enough to imply there is a crisis she didn't want to explain over text."
Before I can answer, the laptop chimes. Ivy's face fills the screen, frazzled, fabulous, a streak of what seems to be pistachio gelato on her blazer.
"Please tell me someone has good news," she says. "I spent six hours explaining to a bride's mother why we cannot, in fact, release doves inside the Pantheon, no matter how much she's willing to pay in bribes."
"Doves in the Pantheon?" Mason asks.
"Don't ask," Ivy sighs. "Italy's been educational. But enough about my glamorous life of near-international incidents. Savvy, you look disgustingly happy. Henry, you look like you've slept. And Maddy…" Her eyes narrow on the screen. "You look like you've had either a breakthrough or a breakdown. Judging by the creative explosion behind you, I'm guessing breakthrough?"
"Breakthrough," I confirm. "But it's complicated."
"Everything is with you," Ivy says. "What's the situation?"
Henry exchanges a look with Savvy. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a folded newspaper.
"Have you seen this?" he asks.
He spreads out the copy of River Bend Happenings, and even knowing it's coming, my stomach clenches.
"It gets worse," Savvy says. "She's distributed it everywhere, Main Street shops, Timeless Treats. People are talking."
"I see," Mason says.
"She assassinated your character," I say, my voice tightening. "And you're going with stoic acceptance?"
"She's not wrong about my history," Mason says. "The details are twisted, but the heart of it, that I've done damage I can't undo, that's true."
"That's crap," Savvy cuts in. "I've seen how you work. How you protect people. Whatever you did before doesn't define you now."
Henry leans forward. "So. What do we do about it? Because this could undo everything we've built."
