Chapter 28
Noah
Students will be able to push back on the bastards.
“How did I do?” Shay asked. She wiggled her fingers at her sides, excited and expectant. “What do you think?”
The jam display was significantly more elaborate than anything I’d ever thrown together. “It’s perfect.” I reached for her and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “You’re perfect.”
Really, she was. She was the cutest jam slinger I’d ever seen with her strawberry earrings, red checkered shirt, and jeans that fit like a wet dream.
I wanted to snap a picture of her behind the Little Star farmers market table and slap it on our website and social media.
I wanted everyone to see my adorable wife and know this was the kind of magic we were working with here.
But I didn’t pull out my phone to get a picture.
If I did that, I’d probably call the farm and tell them to send someone else to cover the market because I was finished pretending that it made any sense for Shay to appear at her ex-fiancé’s command. It didn’t. There was no way this would end well.
“Stay close to me,” I said, glancing around the market tent. I wanted to believe that I’d be able to pick him out of a crowd, that I’d know by the smug grin on his face or the overall soul-sucking demon vibe. “It’s not too late to change your mind. We can leave, you know.”
“We’re not leaving,” she said with a laugh. “Gail cleared her whole day to look after Gennie. She’ll be pissed if we come home early.”
“Then stay where I can see you.” I gestured toward the picnic tables in the middle of the tent. “Or I can close down the table and go with you. You’re worth more to me than half an hour of jam sales.”
Shay batted her lashes. “Aww. I don’t think anyone has ever compared me to jam sales before.”
She laughed and I knew she found humor in this but I was dead serious.
This guy, this dickhead douchebag guy, had been terrible to Shay.
The way he ended things with her was bad enough but then he went months without once bothering to check on her until he decided it was very urgent that he see her in person.
I still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this. It was moments like these that made me want to shake her until she understood that she deserved better. That she needed to expect a lot more from people.
And there was a narrow splinter of dread inside me at the possibility of Shay seeing her ex again and realizing I was nothing more than a placeholder.
I didn’t expect her to go running into his open arms but I couldn’t eliminate the possibility entirely.
If not the ex, there was a chance she’d run into the open arms of the life she’d left behind.
I knew she missed Boston and missed all her friends.
Returning to Friendship after living in a busy city was tough.
I knew all about it. Probably tougher than growing up in that particular snow globe and fighting your way out only to get dragged right back in.
I knew I was up against everything today but I wasn’t going down easy.
* * *
The market got underway and I was too busy to obsess over worst-case scenarios.
We sold out of all the new strawberry quince jams and Shay was selling the shit out of blueberry lemon lavender.
That one required skill. Not everyone could get down with lavender.
Meanwhile, I was struggling to keep up with her pace.
We’d sell out of blueberry lemon lavender long before I moved even a handful of spiced pear.
We caught a break after the second hour, which was the usual time for the early birds to head out and the next wave to start trickling in. Shay turned to me with a devious smile. “You have fangirls.”
“I have—what?”
“Fangirls,” she repeated. “Did you not listen while all those women went on and on about how happy they are to see you again and it’s been so long since you came to this market and they look for you every time they see the Little Star banner?”
I grabbed a box from under the table, busied myself restocking jars of mixed berry jam. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something,” she countered. “You have quite the reputation.”
“I was the only one,” I said, “back when we started with jam. I was the only one coming to farmers markets. People associated me with the jam.”
“Yes, I definitely heard mention of the Jam Man.”
“They don’t call me that.” I inspected a jar just to avoid acknowledging her smirk. “That didn’t happen.”
“Oh, it happened.” She dragged a finger from my wrist to my elbow. “They also love the way you roll up your sleeves. I heard more than a few whispers about forearm porn.”
I shook my head. I could feel my ears turning red. “They just remember me from the early days. That’s all.”
“Come for the forearms, stay for the jam. That’s quite the business plan.” She cocked her hip and regarded me for a moment. “Is that the secret to your success?”
I returned to the box in front of me. “I’m more interested in maximizing resources and minimizing waste but sure, that works too.”
“Not that I blame them,” she said under her breath.
Shay looked up suddenly. She stared across the market.
A man stood near the front of the tent, his gaze shifting as if he had no clue where he was and he couldn’t wait to get out of here.
He wore khaki pants and a polo shirt with the insignia of one of the area’s most exclusive golf clubs, and he resembled every unimpressive guy I met in college and law school who’d been raised to believe everything about himself was fully impressive.
In short, I wanted to wing a jar of tangerine marmalade at his head.
He held up his hand and pointed to the picnic tables in the center of the tent.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said. “You don’t have to go over there.”
“I know. I just need to find out what he wants and maybe get a little closure.” She braced her hands on my shoulders and pushed up on her toes to kiss my cheek. “I’ve got this. I’ll be quick. I promise.”
* * *
Shay
The first thing you needed to know about Xavier was that he talked for a living.
He made deals all day, every day, and his phone was glued to his hand.
He traveled most of the month because he knew he could close more deals in person, apply more pressure.
The man knew how to string words together to get what he wanted.
Knowing that, it was bizarre when he stammered and fumbled through simple pleasantries. At the same time, everything about him seemed bizarre. He kept scanning the tent and he looked clammy, like he had a low-grade fever or a bad hangover.
“What’s going on with you now?” He ran the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead as he asked this. Wiped that hand on his khakis. It was cool inside the tent and chilly outside. I didn’t know why he was such a mess. “And what’s with the farmers market?”
“I’m here with my—” I stopped myself, not knowing how best to explain the present shape of my life to Xavier.
But did Xavier need that much information?
Did it even matter to him? This was just idle chatter.
He didn’t care, and thus, he didn’t deserve an explanation. “I tagged along with Noah today.”
He glanced at his phone, asking, “You finally gave up the teaching thing?”
I couldn’t nail down whether the teaching thing annoyed me more than finally .
He’d never overtly criticized my job but he’d often make jokes like “Calm down, it’s just kindergarten” or “It’s not like the kids will care if you make a mistake” or “For fuck’s sake, stop worrying about lesson plans and just show a movie. ”
They didn’t sound like jokes anymore.
“I’m teaching in Rhode Island now.” He shot a puckered frown at me, as if none of that made sense to him. That expression made his eyes look especially beady. Another detail I hadn’t remembered. “So, what did you need to talk to me about?”
He reached into his pocket and retrieved some folded envelopes. “Some mail came to the condo for you.”
I blinked down at the pile in front of me.
Credit card offers, coupon postcards for sales long past, a mobile phone statement.
Garbage, mostly. I gathered the envelopes and smoothed them out.
“This cannot be the reason you asked to meet with me as soon as possible.” His brows winged up and he leaned back.
Before I could process that reaction, I said, “Get to the point, please.”
He glared at me, his mouth twisting hard to one side. I realized then that I’d never spoken to him that way. I’d never hurried him along or given any impression that I wasn’t completely satisfied with every square inch of him.
I’d never really existed in our relationship.
His throat worked as he swallowed. He swung a glance from one end of the tent to the other. Then, “I need the ring back.”
“The—the ring?”
“The engagement ring,” he said.
The second thing you needed to know about Xavier was that he didn’t spend a dime if he didn’t have to.
He’d let everyone else spend the money and he’d never offer to return the favor although he wouldn’t let you forget it if he spent money on you.
In other words, I’d expected he’d want the ring back sooner or later.
“I’m moving on,” he continued, an air of condescension heavy in his words as he ran a glance over my pink hair and gingham shirt. “With someone else. And I need to sell that ring to buy something new.”
“Are you moving on or did you move on a long time ago and now is a convenient moment to make it official?” I asked.
He gave a curt shake of his head, like I was silly for asking such questions. “You don’t have to be so bitter about it.”
“I’m not bitter in the least,” I said easily, though inside I was cracking and folding in on myself.
I was such a fool. Again . I should’ve listened to Noah and Jaime.
Should’ve known this was a mistake. For no good reason, I added, “Perhaps you could tell me why you asked me to marry you if you had other interests.”