I don’t ask her more about yesterday morning. She’ll tell me if she wants to.
Me:
That’s really nice. What time do you want us there?
Mom:
Whenever you kids can get here. Not going anywhere.
Huh.You kids.Okay.
I heart her message and send a quick text to Noah to let him know.
I’m already at Chris’s bakery, a large Victorian that stands on The Green.
I’m early and on rainy days, business is quiet. I’ll have time to get “the conversation” with my boss out of the way. I haven’t told him we got married, only that I urgently needed PTO, and I don’tknow that Noah told him either. We relied on ECHoes, and that was sort of a dick move.
Kiara’s cute pink vintage delivery van (the one she used as a bridal suite) is outside the bakery, doubling my nervousness. She must be making her daily delivery, and I’m in for not one, but two hard conversations. But somehow, I’m almost relieved to have these soon be over.
The scent of fresh croissants greets me as I push the door open, easing my tension with its familiarity and pure yumminess. Chris has already loaded the shelves with a variety of breads.
“Here comes the bride!” Kiara says as she sets a tray of colorful macarons on a display shelf, then walks to me with a tight smile.
“Hey,” I answer, giving her a side hug. “How was Paris?” Lame attempt to change the topic.
We walk in silence to the back of the bakery, where I shuck my coat off, toe off my rain boots, and don my work shoes. “I’m sorry,” I say, finally finding the courage to look her in the eye. “I don’t know what else to say.” I’m clutching my boots and my coat, and even I can tell it’s to feel protected.
“Put your stuff away,” she says. “I’m not going to bite you.”
I shove my things in the closet then turn to her. My gaze flickers to her left hand, where Colton’s solitaire is shining next to the simple white gold band he slipped on her finger just days before Noah and I eloped. My heart clenches at my betrayal. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Her eyes mist. “You did hurt me.” Blinking tears away, she pulls me in for a hug and holds me against her, her arms clenched around me. “What happened?” she whispers.
I shut my eyes. Can I go with the lie Noah and I agreed on? Or do I owe my best friend the truth? Who comes first? My fake husband and real-life crush, or my best friend?
Remembering that the interests of the whole town hang on this fake marriage, I make my choice as she releases her hug. Unable to quite look her in the eye, I busy myself making coffee—the first task of my workday. “Noah… Noah opened up to me during the wedding and I… you know how I’ve always felt about him. So…” I look at her, hoping she’ll fill in the rest.
She crosses her arms, her eyes dancing. “So you did the big nasty. And…?” she quips.
I gape at her, not knowing where to go with that. This is a direction I didn’t see coming, and now I can’t remember… What did Noah and I agree to say again? I swallow with difficulty. “We decided we didn’t want to waste more time and-and-and we didn’t want a big wedding and—”
“You’re so full of shit,” Kiara interrupts me. Narrowing her eyes on me, she adds, “On a scale of one to ten, how worried should I be?”
“W-what do you mean?”
“People are asking questions.”
“People?” I repeat stupidly. What people? What questions? Ohmygod arepeoplealready saying the wedding is fake?
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but out-of-staters have been asking Colt—as chair of the select board—about development opportunities in town in the near future… specifically, revolving around the store. And other out-of-staters are checking zoning in the Lilyvale area. It’s… weird. We didn’t think much about it, but then you go and get married and it’s just… the timing, you know?”
My mouth is dry. “What did Colton answer?” I might be showing our hand to Kiara, but I need to know.
Kiara gives me a long look. Nods slowly. “Obviously… to go fuck themselves.”
My heart gives a thump at the show of support. Before I can say anything, she raises her hand and adds, “Don’t tell me anything. I’m a terrible liar.”
Solitude weighs heavily on me. But she’s right; this is not something we should talk about at the moment. Or ever.
