Chapter 6
RYAN
What have I done?
I take a sip of my beer, then put the drink down on the bar. I’m usually no lightweight, but a quarter of a beer in and I’m making foolish decisions.
Sloane decides to return to the clothing store, and when I meet her there at the bottom of the seventh, she’s already picked out a dress, a purse, and shoes, and they’re wrapped in tissue in a bag at the counter.
“What, I don’t even get to see my date’s dress?” I ask, tapping my card to the reader that the shopkeeper passes me.
“You don’t like surprises?” Sloane asks.
I like pretty much anything involving her at this point, which is likely why I’ve gone mad and agreed to this ruse. “Not usually,” I say.
“Me neither,” she says.
Funny. If Sloane is what surprises look like, maybe I’ve been giving them a bad reputation.
***
The next two days pass by quickly. It’s busy at work, and each night when I get home, Sloane has dinner made, and we walk with Marshall along the beach before eating together, and then playing a game of cards or watching something on TV.
I bring home a small watercolor kit from the rescue center that’s used for one of the educational programs, and when I give it to Sloane, the look on her face makes me wonder why I ever thought I preferred being alone.
I’ve overheard her talk to her friend twice on the phone in hushed tones—Kerry-Anne, her name is.
On one of our walks, Sloane told be about how they met, how long they’d been friends, and how much she relied on her.
Sloane’s been doing a lot of reassuring, and it’s clear her friend is worried about her.
“Can I feed Vera tonight?” Sloane asks me after we’ve cleared the dinner dishes.
“Sure,” I say. I grab the fresh herring from the fridge and pass the container to her.
Outside, the sun is setting over the horizon, and there’s a gentle breeze in the air.
“Vera!” Sloane calls, and while I’m confident Vera has no idea her name is Vera, she appears at the edge of the deck. I watch as Sloane pulls the lid off the container and sets it on the deck near where the little puffin is standing. “Lucky girl,” she coos.
Sloane crouches beside the container, waiting patiently for Vera to approach on her own terms.
Most people couldn’t tolerate ten seconds of silence. Sloane seems content to let the puffin make up her own mind. Her face lights up when Vera takes the first bite.
I can’t help the grin that tugs at the corners of my mouth. “You definitely need a pet,” I say. “Your parents didn’t let you have one growing up?”
“My dad wasn’t part of my life. And as a single mother, Mom said pets were too expensive and demanding. Then she got sick, and…” Sloane shrugged. “I lived with my Aunt Lisa for a while after she passed, and Lisa’s allergic to everything.”
“How old were you when you lost your mom?” I ask.
“Old enough to know what it felt like to have a real family, even if my dad wasn’t around.”
We watch Vera together, zestfully enjoying her dinner.
“I guess I was chasing that again,” Sloane says.
“The Fordham family seemed like such a solid unit when I first met them. Weekly family dinners, vacations together every summer and at Christmas. They had keys to each other’s houses.
I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t part of the appeal with Jack.
Belonging to a tight-knit group. But they seemed to care more about appearing to be close than actually enjoying time together. ”
“Have you contacted him yet?” I ask. “Jack?”
Sloane shakes her head. I can tell she’s ashamed.
“He sent some legal documents to my email cancelling the pre-nup. Kerry-Anne let him know I’m okay.
I’ll call him in a few days. I’m still just trying to figure out what to say.
The thing is…” She trails off and turns to the water, something I’ve noticed her doing when it seems she needs grounding.
I get it. “There’s not much to say other than it wasn’t going to work out. ”
“Then maybe that’s all you have to say.”
Sloane nods. “I feel more like myself this week than I have in a long time. I feel kind of guilty for that.”
“I get it,” I say. “But you don’t need to feel that way. You made the right call.”
“Thank you,” she says. “You’re a good listener.
” Something passes between us. I want to kiss her.
The realization hits me like a brick. It’s not just that she’s beautiful, with the last of the light flickering in her eyes and her soft hair floating in the breeze.
Sloane is light-hearted. Thoughtful. Spontaneous.
Smart. She fits right in here, on the beach. In my home. In my life…
But she’s leaving soon, and she has other things to deal with.
I clear my throat. “Well, seems like someone liked her dinner,” I say. The container is empty and Vera’s already waddling away to the path behind the house. “Shall we go inside?”
Sloane nods, and she’s looking at me now like she has more to say.
I want to tell her we can talk more. I want to tell her about my family, who she’s going to meet in two days. But this feeling, I don’t know if I can trust it.
So we go inside.
“We should probably talk through a few details in case people ask questions at the wedding,” Sloane says.
Thankfully, now that I’m bringing a date to the wedding, I’ve decided I can sit out the rehearsal dinner. My mother is thrilled to hear about my plus-one. Can’t wait to meet the mystery woman, she texted after I updated my RSVP. Word travels fast in this town, and extra fast in my family.
We decide that we met at a conference. It’s long-distance for now, but we’re going to see how things go. We cross our fingers and hope that Delia will have forgotten the name Katie, and that Sloane can just be Sloane. One less detail to keep track of.
Before we each retreat to our rooms that night, there’s a moment when it feels like Sloane has something more she wants to say.
And there’s definitely more that I want to do.
I’m suddenly not dreading the wedding anymore, even though I have to remind myself that this thing between us is pure convenience.
I saw on the news that the road to the highway reopened yesterday, so technically, Sloane could have already left, but I appreciate her following through on her end of the deal.
We haven’t talked about her leaving after the wedding.
I can’t tell her this, but I’m beginning to rather she didn’t.
***
As soon as the morning fog burns off, the sky turns cerulean, with just a few faint streaks of clouds lingering in the distance.
We’re supposed to leave at five-thirty for the wedding, just enough time to park and mingle a little before the ceremony starts, but not enough for my nosy family or friends to start interrogating me and poking holes in the story Sloane and I hammered out.
I go over the details again as I button my dress shirt.
Dating for three months. Met at a conference.
She works in finance. We see each other on weekends, in Seattle or whatever city fits her schedule best. And she hasn’t visited Wild Rose Point yet because…
well, once I bring a woman home, the town rumor mill will happily start chugging.
Three months feels long enough that things would be “serious,” at least on paper.
Except nothing about this is serious. Not really.
Not unless you count the gnawing, inconvenient feeling in my stomach every time I think about her walking in on my arm tonight. The stupid, hopeless desire that this wasn’t a farce, that the thing that’s been flaring between us is real. Mutual.
I take a steady breath, knotting my tie.
Sloane’s coming as my date because she needed a place to escape to.
That’s it. And no matter how wound-up I get around her, no matter how hard it is to ignore the glint in her eye when when she’s gazing out at the ocean, this is a practical arrangement. Case closed.
I pull on my blazer and head to the living room to wait. She’s in the bathroom, music drifting out from her phone.
Marshall is parked outside the bathroom, tail thumping, gazing at the door like the sun itself is in there.
“You’re really wearing your heart on your sleeve, buddy,” I murmur. Not that I’m any better.
I open Wordle on my phone just as the music shuts off. I look up, and it hits me like a freight train.
Sloane steps out in a long red gown with thin straps, her hair loose and wavy over her shoulders. She gives me a shy smile. “Ready when you are. Hope you don’t mind if I wear these sandals. The dress doesn’t really go with the ones I showed up in.”
My jaw nearly drops. Marshall’s about ready to launch himself into her arms. I whistle him over, grateful for the distraction, for something to do with my hands.
When I look up again, she’s smiling like she knows exactly the effect she’s having. And she’s not wrong.
“You look great,” I say, trying to hit the sweet spot between sincere and not too enthusiastic.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “You too.”
So much for keeping a low profile. I’m about to show up with a woman so gorgeous she might eclipse the bride. This might be a huge mistake.
By the time we pull into the parking lot at the Wild Rose Point Inn, only a handful of spots remain. Guests are mingling in the garden, cocktail glasses catching the sun. My stomach tightens.
I spot my parents immediately, chatting with my ex’s parents, Steve and Lois. Nice people, but…well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Confidence and chaos, wrapped in two overly enthusiastic wedding guests.
Beyond them stand a cluster of Calista’s friends, some of my cousins, aunts, uncles. And my grandfather, sitting in a chair off to the side, who definitely has a flask of Jack Daniels in his jacket pocket. No one hates weddings like Boris Clancy. The sentimental stuff makes him itchy.
“Everything okay?” Sloane asks.
I startle. I must’ve been staring. “Oh, yeah. For sure. All set?”
She tilts her head, one eyebrow raised. “You know, it’s fine if you’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
My stomach rumbles and I clear my throat to mask the noise.