Chapter 17
17
Natalie
“ T his is so fun!” Rachel tells me, sweeping an arm out to encompass all the festivities at the Wilder-Hott party, which includes not only Wilders and Hott and their significant others and kids, but also what appears to be hundreds of friends. “I can’t believe you guys put all this together in a week.”
“We have good partners,” I tell her, giving her an affectionate side hug. She hugs me back.
All the Wilders and Hotts are doing their demos for free today. When Hanna told me that, I got teary. Yes, technically Sonya and her staff work for Hanna, but Hanna says she offered them pay and they wouldn’t take it. Neither would Gabe, Rachel, or Brody, all of whom are volunteering today because they love Hanna and want her to succeed.
Yeah, Hanna said, her eyes suspiciously shiny, when I told her how amazing I thought that was. They’re pretty great.
Rachel’s demo is quiet for the moment. She’s hosting a wine tasting, and Brody is doing nature talks (reinterpreted for Hanna’s backyard), with a few of their staffers periodically relieving them so they can take breaks and experience the other activities. A short distance away, Sonya’s co-workers are hard at work: Brianna and Amelia are offering chair massages, a woman I was introduced to as Reggie is painting nails, and someone I haven’t yet met is teaching yoga.
Gabe Wilder, one of Hanna’s brothers-in-law, is teaching kids to boulder on an immense craggy rock with a thick pad below, and a sign directs partygoers down to the river if they’re interested in doing some paddleboarding with Easton. That’s been one of our biggest hits, along with horseback rides and lasso lessons.
Of course, Horace’s Portable Madhouse is an even bigger hit…
But Jell-O wrestling has had the longest line all afternoon.
I wander away from Rachel and sidle alongside Preston. “Told you so,” I tell him, because I can’t resist crowing. “Everyone loves Jell-O wrestling.”
He scowls at me, but I can see his heart’s not in it. He surveys what we created with something soft in his expression that makes me think he’s pleased.
“It’s so…dumb,” he says, but there’s no heat in it.
“I think you mean it’s so fun .”
“I meant what I said,” he tells me, giving me a stern look that I don’t actually hate at all.
“We did it,” I say. “We met our first milestone.”
He crosses his arms across his broad chest and scowls deeper. “We’re nowhere near done. I’d guess we have, what, less than half of the activities we need by the time the summer festival rolls around? And we’ve picked the low-hanging fruit.”
“We’ve got this,” I say, shrugging. “Ye of little faith.”
Ever since the rage room, it’s been more like this. Our combativeness feels different now, like we’re somehow on the same side.
It feels good, and also…dangerous. Like I knew what to do with Preston when I thought he hated me, or at least was holding me at arm’s length. This Preston—one I nudge with my shoulder, almost affectionately—is too big, too beautiful, and too likable.
It doesn’t help that he’s wearing cutoff navy sweats and a gray T-shirt. Stripped of his armoring suits, he seems younger and more vulnerable. Not to mention that the soft cotton loves his muscular body.
As, we already know, do I.
I tear my gaze from the intersection of T-shirt sleeve and curved bicep.
“I love your family,” I tell him. I point to where Quinn and Shane are demolishing each other in the Jell-O pit while a horde of Wilder children cheer on one or the other. “They seem like they’re all good people.”
His expression softens. “I don’t know the Wilders well, but they all jumped in to help Sonya and Quinn when there was a flood at Hott Spot last year. And my brothers…they can be grumpy bastards, but Quinn and Shane, when they got their letters from Granddad, they totally stepped up. And earlier this summer, Hanna was trying to host a celebrity wedding—January Stark and Tobias Bauer?—”
“Tobuary!” I say delightedly, because like everyone else on Earth, I shipped January and Tobias. Hard.
“Someone tried—well, we think maybe they tried—to sabotage it, and all my brothers came through to?—”
He’s cut off by Hanna. “Pres!” she says, racing up to his side. “I need to finish frosting a cake, and I just heard Eloise waking up over the monitor, and Easton’s down at the river. Any chance you could grab her for me?”
“On it,” Preston says and strides off.
I watch him go, stunned.
Hanna is already trotting back toward the house.
“Hey!” I call.
She turns back.
“Can I help with the cake?”
She shrugs. “You ever frosted a cake? Because I haven’t.”
“No, but I’m game to try.”
She grins, giving me a sec to catch up. “You know what I like about you?” she says as we hurry to the house together. “I actually believe that’s true.”
When we’re done frosting the cake, Hanna starts making caramel glaze for the apple pie, and Rachel offers to introduce me to anyone I haven’t met yet. We head back out into the grassy yard, which stretches for a good distance and is surrounded by a wooden lattice fence with a swinging gate. Beyond it, I can see the spa, which means that Hanna can basically roll out of bed and into the springs.
Not too shabby. Yet another good reason for Hanna’s brothers to fight like hell to hang on to the land for their sister.
Rachel and I weave among the activities as she introduces me to, or at least points out, her sisters-in-law and sisters-in-law-to-be. “Most of my brothers-in-law are in line for either Jell-O wrestling or nail painting right now,” she says, laughing and pointing out the Wilder men in her life one by one and then moving on to Hanna’s brothers, Rhys—who’s in town only for the day—Tucker, and Quinn. She gestures toward Shane, the fifth brother, who’s standing next to his fiancée, Ivy, the two of them looking like they’re alone in their own happy world. Then she tells me the kids’ names and who they belong to—Justin to her and Brody, and the rest to various Wilder brothers and their wives.
Everyone’s talking and laughing, hugging and trying to draw each other into activities. This is the kind of family I always imagined myself with—fun and games, everyone enjoying themselves fully.
It’s almost like Preston and I were swapped at birth.
My head is overflowing with names, spinning, by the time we get back to Sonya, who’s taking a break from supervising her staff to eat. “I know you know Sonya,” Rachel says. She turns to her. “We had such a hilarious moment on the boat the other day. I had everything prepared for Hanna and Natalie, and then Nat showed up with Preston, and I didn’t have the brains to do a complete pivot, so I went with it. With poor Preston playing the unsuspecting groom.”
“Oh, God!” Sonya says, turning to me with huge eyes. “That must have been hilarious.” She claps her hand over her mouth. “Oh no, and then you came to the spa and—you poor things!” She addresses Rachel again. “There was a mix-up. The front desk accidentally sent them into a couples massage appointment.”
“Are you serious?!” Rachel says. “I wish I’d been a fly on the wall for that.”
Both women are giggling uncontrollably. Sonya bites her lip. “I hope your luck looked up after those two days,” she says.
I think of the rage room and almost tell them about the strange moment that passed between Preston and me—and the confessions that followed—but before I can, my attention is diverted by the sight of Preston walking toward us, a toddler on his hip. He’s deep in conversation with her about something.
As they get closer, I realize he’s not talking to her at all. He’s holding a stuffed cat, monologuing in a squeaky Southern drawl interspersed with dramatic meows, pretending to be the voice of the toy. The toddler, who looks to be somewhere around a year to eighteen months old, holds a stuffed dog and is woofing back at him.
I’m completely charmed.
“Mr. Dog, sir, I know you want to be seated absolutely right away, but we simply do not have anything open at the moment. You’ll have to wait your?—”
The toddler holds the dog up to his face and woofs urgently.
“Sorry, El,” he says, kissing her on the nose. “Mr. Dog, sir, you’ll have to wait your turn.”
“Woof, woof,” the toddler says as Preston clocks the three of us standing and watching.
“This is Hanna’s daughter, Eloise,” Sonya says. “Want me to take her?” she asks Preston.
“Nah, we’re good—right, El?” he says. “El, say hi to my friend Natalie.” He nods toward me, something wry on his lips.
The word “friend” absolutely shouldn’t give me a tiny thrill.
“Ha!” Eloise says.
“Hi, Eloise,” I say back.
“Preston!”
The cry comes from behind us. Hanna, calling out the back sliders. “I don’t know what I did to the caramel?—”
Preston turns to scowl at his sister. “Oh, Jesus, Hanna, caramel? You can barely work the microwave, but you had to prep something notoriously impossible for an enormous party?”
“Can you help?”
He rolls his eyes. “Yes, of course. Coming.” He pauses, looking down at his niece. “Actually…” he says to Sonya.
She laughs. “Yup.” She opens her arms and takes Eloise and the stuffed dog, then reaches for the stuffed cat. Eloise pokes out a pudgy hand and shoves the cat back toward her uncle.
“You want Uncle Preston to keep Saucy Cat?” he asks her earnestly.
She nods.
Preston starts toward the house, tucking Saucy Cat into his pocket, and Eloise opens her mouth and howls.
He turns back. “You want to keep Saucy Cat,” he guesses. Eloise brightens, and he hands her the cat.
But when he turns to go again, Eloise bursts into tears.
“Hey, kiddo!” Rachel says to Eloise. “He’ll be back.”
But there’s no convincing Eloise of that fact. Her howl intensifies, tears streaming down her face, both her hands reaching for her uncle’s receding back.
“We’re going to have to follow Uncle Preston, aren’t we,” Sonya says.
Eloise’s tears dry up, and she nods.
“Sorry,” Sonya says to me. “Can we get together soon?”
“Definitely,” I tell her, and she and Eloise follow Uncle Preston into the kitchen.
I watch them go, filled with sympathy for Eloise. I know exactly how it feels to want more of Preston’s time and attention.