Sweet Little Lies

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Ten minutes later, Zach and I are seated at Marla’s, which used to be a favorite spot of ours. Just like my shop, it has an eclectic feel, with a collection of mismatched furniture, local artwork, and homemade goods. The café is nearly always busy, locals and tourists filling the room with a gentle buzz of conversation. It’s exactly what you’d expect in a small Southern town.

Zach approaches the counter and orders our usual lattes. I watch him from the table, chewing the inside of my cheek. Even after our breakup, he was adamant that we stay friends. Zach would never speak about his exes, even though I know he dated someone pretty seriously before me, so I wasn’t sure how he would act after our split. I was a little surprised he wanted to stay friends at first, since he basically caught me cheating on him, but given I’m a transplant here in the South and don’t have many friends, I reluctantly agreed.

After we spend a few minutes discussing the black pearl—which is actually more of an iridescent blue—and how we can work it into the macarons, Zach turns the conversation toward the wedding.

“So, how are you holding up?” he asks, his blue eyes filled with concern. As soon as he mentions it, I glance warily toward the front door. I half expect Tucker to come strolling in at any moment, catching me red-handed. Of course, I have a good explanation as to why I’m meeting with Zach, but I’m not sure Tucker would understand why the discussion of a black pearl would warrant the two of us sitting down for coffee.

And he would be right.

I pull my attention back to Zach, who is silently waiting for my answer, and let out a long sigh.

“Honestly? I now understand why brides come into my shop looking like they’ve been through a war. And I’ve only been at this for a month. The pressure is unreal, even with a wedding planner. I don’t know ninety-five percent of the people coming, but I feel like I’ve sold my soul to make them all happy.”

Zach chuckles and takes a sip of his coffee. “Welcome to the South, Reese. Down here, making everyone else happy while looking picture-perfect is an art form.”

Perhaps Zach and I have different ideas about what can be considered art. But even as he speaks, I can't help but think about how fast everything’s happened. One month from proposal to ‘I do’? It's like I'm frosting a wedding cake before the layers have even cooled. A tiny voice in my head wonders if we should've given it more time, but I quickly push those thoughts aside.

I know Tucker is the one.

“I’m starting to see why Charlotte didn’t go through with her wedding,” I say, trying to make light of the situation. “The idea of being a runaway bride is becoming more appealing by the minute.”

The clatter of porcelain plates and coffee cups fills the background as Zach leans in, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you ever wonder why she ran away?”

I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it, Reese. She vanished into thin air on her wedding day, and no one has seen or heard from her since, aside from a few social media posts. Don’t you find that a bit…peculiar?”

Of course I find it odd. But I try not to dwell on Charlotte. She’s Tucker’s ex, and their failed relationship has nothing to do with me. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

The truth is, I’ve thought about Charlotte a lot over the past year. It’s hard not to, when the shadow of her disappearance seems to loom over everything. I’ve caught myself wondering what could have happened to her, why she would have walked away from her life without so much as a word to anyone.

Charlotte obviously comes from a well-to-do family, one that would have the resources to find her if she was actually missing. Her mother Amanda, whom I only met the one time at my shop, has hardly been seen or heard from either. She maintains that her daughter left and doesn’t wish to be contacted. I only hear bits and pieces from the patrons at the shop, and I try to appear as uninterested as possible. Even though I’m carefully listening for any morsel of information as to why she left.

Of course, Tucker is the one person who must know what happened. But I learned quickly that Charlotte is a sore subject with him. Whenever her name comes up, I can see the pain and anger that flash in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches and his whole body seems to tense. I know that their breakup was messy, that there are wounds there that haven’t quite healed. So I never bring her up, never probe too deeply into the mystery of her vanishing act. I figure that if Tucker wants to talk about it, he will. And if not, well, that’s his business.

But now, with Zach’s words echoing in my mind, I find myself feeling slightly uneasy. He’s right, after all. Charlotte’s disappearance is more than just peculiar—it’s downright bizarre.

“I guess,” I finally say.

“She up and left, right before the wedding,” Zach continues, his eyes narrowing. “What could have possibly happened between her and Tucker that would cause her to run away?”

I nod my head, feeling the all-too-familiar tension in my back creeping up to my neck. In an attempt to ease the discomfort, I press my fingertips against my shoulder. But the thought that something sinister may have occurred—involving my future husband—lingers in my mind, adding to the stress already weighing me down. As if planning a wedding wasn’t enough of a burden, I’ve got to deal with everyone’s questions about Charlotte as well.

“It’s in the past, Zach,” I say, giving up on the tension in my shoulders and tipping back the last of my coffee. “Listen, I need to get back to the shop and then head over to the Charleston Place Hotel for the party Monica’s having for me.”

Zach’s eyebrows shoot up, and a smirk plays on his lips. “Ah, yes. The infamous bridal luncheon. Sounds like a lamb being served up to a den of hungry lions.”

I can’t help but chuckle at his analogy. Monica Harding, Tucker’s cousin, is known for her sharp tongue and ability to make even the most confident person feel like they’re under a microscope. I’ve only met her once, and honestly, once was enough. But she’s going to be my cousin by marriage soon, so I guess I have to get used to her.

“You’re not wrong,” I say. “But trust me, I can handle myself.”

I’m trying to appear confident, but the truth is I am dreading this luncheon. Give me a scorching oven and a mixer any day—I can whip up a three-tier masterpiece without breaking a sweat. But put me in a room full of Botox-laden Southern belles armed with their razor-sharp tongues and judgmental glares?

I’d rather face a firing squad.

“Just be careful, Reese. Those society ladies can smell fear,” Zach teases, his blue eyes filled with mirth.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, rolling my eyes playfully. One of the things I’ve always enjoyed about Zach is our playful banter. I can’t name a time when he didn’t make me laugh. “Now, I really must go. I’ll incorporate your ideas for the macarons, and you can work out the details with Bernadette before Saturday.”

“Of course.” He nods, his smile fading a bit. “I’ll touch base with Bernie and sort everything out.”

I stand to leave, when Zach reaches out and traces a finger down the back of my hand. The unexpected touch sends a shiver through me, and I instinctively glance toward the door, half-expecting Tucker to walk in and catch us in the moment.

“Remember, if you need a break from the lions, you know where to find me,” he says.

I meet his gaze, searching for any hint of ulterior motives behind his offer of friendship. Is he genuinely concerned about my well-being, or is this just another attempt to drive a wedge between Tucker and me? The guilt of our past affair weighs heavily on my shoulders, and I can’t help but wonder if Zach’s intentions are as pure as he claims.

“Thanks, Zach. I’ll keep that in mind,” I reply, my voice wavering slightly as I pull my hand away from his touch.

As I make my way to the door, I feel off-balance, my mind reeling with conflicting emotions. The wedding preparations have been stressful enough without the added complication of Zach’s presence in my life, not to mention the ghost of Charlotte looming over me like a dark cloud. But, when the warm sunlight hits my skin, I breathe in deeply, the faint smell of honeysuckle filling my nostrils. Regardless of what happened before, I have a wedding to plan, a bridal luncheon to attend, and a future to look forward to with Tucker.

The past is in the past. For now.