7. Pen
7
PEN
“ H ey Sweetie.” Wren’s voice is a gentle coo as she pushes open the bedroom door without knocking. I didn’t expect her to; Lake undoubtedly called in reinforcements and she drew the short straw. “I brought coffee, donuts, and gossip.”
Peeking one eye open, I push up on my elbow as she shuts the door behind her. “Is the gossip about me?” It would make sense—the wedding wasn’t even a week ago.
I knew things would be said about me leaving Carter, but I was wholly unprepared for the articles. Small-Town Sweetheart Turned Gold Digger Leaves Fiancé at Altar…
I’d skimmed that one. The thought that anyone would claim me as a gold digger was laughable. But I’d stumbled into a world where people were more interested in entertainment than honesty.
And the comments.
I’d been horrified and hurt and I’d taken it all out on the one person who’d done nothing but show me kindness.
Fighting with Lake had been worse than all the comments in all the articles combined. They don’t know me, but he does.
And he’d called me out and I’d walked away with a well-placed fuck you.
“God, no, we’ll talk about you later.”
Crawling onto the bed, she finds a spot and sits with her legs crossed as she hands me a cup and the white paper bag. Sitting up, I’m thankful I forced myself into the shower last night so I’m not quite the swamp monster I was before.
“Thanks for this,” I tell her as I take a sip and enjoy my favorite gingerbread flavor. “I’m sure Lake was begging someone to come drag me out of bed,” I say with a deprecating laugh.
Wren’s eyebrows creep up her forehead as she pulls a glazed donut from the bag. “Um, no. This is the first day he’s allowed anyone—me—to come. He’s had this place on lockdown.”
I frown. “Why?”
She blinks and then blinks again. “Because he loves you and wants to protect you?” It’s a question but it’s not.
Not really.
“I’m pretty sure he’s still mad at me.”
I’d barely seen him in the four days since my wedding. Three days since our fight in the kitchen. Part of it was on me; I’d hidden away in this room, trying desperately to figure out where to go from here. Despite not wanting to return to Bozeman, my life still exists there and I need closure, from all of it.
“I’m pretty sure he’s not,” Wren says with a smirk that says she knows what she’s talking about. “We’ll get to that, but first ,”—she holds up her index finger—“Beau definitely slept with your friend Indie.”
I gasp. “No way.”
“Mm-hmm. Pretty sure they spent whatever time she was in Wintervale together.”
Grinning, I take another sip of my coffee. “What else?”
“Reid has a crush on the new farmhand. His name is Harlan and from what I’ve heard, he’s annoyed by Reid’s general presence.”
I laugh and smile for the first time in days. “How long before Reid’s got Harlan under his spell?”
“If I know Reid, not that long.”
We both giggle as I grab a donut and take a bite, the sugar almost too sweet but also exactly what I need.
“Anything else?”
“Erika sold Mountain Side Salon and Spa. The new owner,”—she pauses—“some guy from New York City, will be here for the start of the new year.”
“What?” I ask, genuinely shocked. “Why would she do that?”
“I have no idea. The details are vague at best.” Wren shrugs. “He must have paid a lot for it though.”
Humming in agreement, I shove the rest of the donut in my mouth and chew. As friendly as she’s being, I know I can’t avoid my drama forever.
“And the fallout from my wedding?” I ask cautiously.
“Daddy paid some money to the Haneses to make them quit bitching.” My eyelids flutter closed because God knows how much I owe him for that. I startle when Wren’s hand grabs mine. “Don’t even think about it. Daddy was happy to do it.”
“Whatever it is, it’s a lot of money, Wren, and I don’t?—”
“And he doesn’t want it back, and I know that because he told me.” She huffs. “Besides, most of the people at your wedding were business associates not family.”
She isn’t wrong. I hadn’t known a quarter of the people on the guest list and neither did Carter.
He just wasn’t bothered by it.
“Are they still here?”
“They all left the morning after the wedding for Bozeman.”
I blow out a breath that I feel like I’ve been holding since I ran down the aisle and lift my face toward the ceiling.
“I haven’t charged my phone.”
“I know.”
“I used Lake’s to call Oma and then I saw the article and…”
“I know.”
“I just couldn’t do it.”
“I know.”
There’s no judgment in her tone, and when I’m finally brave enough to look at her, there’s none on her face either.
“Why did I think I could marry him?” I whisper, and her expression softens before she climbs up the bed and tucks herself under the covers next to me as she leans back against the headboard.
“I think it probably felt like the natural progression. You were together a long time.”
Natural progression.
“Is it natural progression if you’re just going through the motions?” I don’t wait for her to answer, the question enough to open the flood gates. “It felt like a fairy tale at first,” I admit. “Carter moved to Wintervale and he was really charming, and I was flattered that he asked me on a date.” I chuff out a humorless laugh. “So many of the girls in my class were jealous, and then he asked me to be his girlfriend and I liked that too.”
“It’s okay that you loved the guy you were supposed to marry,” she says gently.
“I was just existing, Wren. I woke up one day and all of a sudden things were just there— my job, our condo, our relationship. He told me it didn’t matter if I took the promotion at work because he wanted me home waiting for him, a doting wife with a full schedule of volunteer events. Not to mention, his mother and her friends planned our wedding.” I stare at the closet that holds my wedding dress. “I hated that dress.”
“It wasn’t you,” she agrees and I nod.
“I found it in the city.” Sighing, I add, “But when we came to Wintervale to meet with the wedding planner, I popped into Dress Me Up. I wasn’t really looking but I saw a dress there, tried it on, and it was just so perfect. Broke my heart to leave it.”
“Why didn’t you get it?”
“His mother hated it, but also”—I pause, trying to find the words—“I didn’t feel right marrying Carter in it. I guess I should thank the Hanes matriarch for that.” I add the last part with a wry grin.
The admission hangs between us as Wren’s eyebrows creep up her forehead again.
“And who do you think you’d feel right marrying in your dream dress?”
“I—I don’t know,” I stammer, making her roll her eyes.
“No one?” She snorts. “You can think of no one? ”
“Did he tell you?”
“Is there something to tell?” she fires back, her smile growing wider as our exchange continues.
“We kissed—that’s it, okay? I was overwhelmed and I just… I don’t know. It was impulsive and he said it was a mistake and then it was really awkward because I still needed him to help me out of the dress,” I lament, covering my face with my hands. “He’s still mad.”
Wren laughs. “No, he’s not.”
“He told me it was a mistake, Wren,” I say, facing her again.
“I’ll bet he was saying the timing was a mistake— not the kiss.” I open my mouth and then close it, as I ponder that new revelation. “My brother is a lot of things, Pen, but he’s not an idiot. Not when it comes to you. So yeah, I bet he pulled away and I’m sure he’s giving you space, but sweetie, you were in a wedding dress that wasn’t for him.”
You were in a wedding dress that wasn’t for him.
It’s unnerving that it all comes down to a dress.
Or the idea of a dress.
“But what about now?” I ask, my mind still reeling. “It’s not like he doesn’t know where I am.”
“He’s probably giving you space. It’s a lot, Pen. He took Beau’s keys and hauled ass outta there because you needed him and he’d do anything for you. How’s he supposed to know what you need if you don’t even know what you need?”
I don’t like that she’s right.
But instead of commenting, I take her hand, weaving our fingers together before I turn to look at her.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t around.”
Wren and I had been close, not as close as Lake and me, but still close.
“I know,” she says with a small smile, squeezing my hand before grinning like a fool. “You have bigger fish to fry.”
“What?”
Wren laughs. “My mom has some choice words about you disappearing to the city and never calling or coming to visit.”
“Ugh,” I groan, letting my head fall back so I can look at the ceiling. “I know.” Elora Sterling had always been there for me, and Wren’s right; she’s going to want to know what happened, not just with the wedding, but with me.
“She’s insisting you come to the next family dinner at the lodge.”
Wren beams and I sigh, resigned, because I owe it to Elora—I owe it to all of them.
I just need to take care of a few things first.