Chapter 28 #2
“You’ll recognize it from the wedding videos.” I grin. “Obviously, couples get married there, but they also have a petting zoo, and for an extra charge, you can feed goats, llamas, and sheep.”
“Oh, my.” Her eyebrow hooks up. Just one. “I’m not sure I packed the proper shoes.”
“Hmm.” I glance at Bridger, and his mouth quirks. “In that case, you should probably stick to Maple Street,” I say. “You'll love Book Smart and In Bloom. And you have to go by Cataloochee’s. Obviously. It’s practically the law in Harvest Hollow.”
She blinks. “Catta who?”
“Cataloochee’s Mountain Coffee? The locals call it Catty’s. It’s a coffee shop. And in case you couldn’t tell, In Bloom is a flower shop. And Book Smart is … well. A bookstore.” I tip my chin. “Do you like apple cider donuts, Margaret?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” she quips. Which makes sense. Apple cider donuts are the opposite of dry toast.
“Catty’s has the best. You have to try one. After that, you should probably stop by Tequila Mockingbird.” I throw this idea out there with extra breeziness. “Take a quick peek inside,” I say. “See if you have the proper shoes.”
Margaret lifts her forehead, and something bright flickers behind her eyes. Almost as if she’s a little bit impressed. A small spark of pleasure ignites below my sternum, and I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I kind of want my mother-in-law to like me.
“Speaking of Tequila Mockingbird.” Margaret swings her attention over to Bridger. “Have you told your friends I’ll be joining you on Saturday?” She pauses. “Or would that ruin the illusion of surprise?”
“Oh, don’t worry.” I wave her comment away, chuckling. “I’m sure Dex will be thrilled to include you.”
“Dex?”
“Dexter Michaels,” I clarify. “He’s Bridger’s best friend. But fair warning. He’ll take it as a personal challenge to get you up onstage at the microphone doing karaoke.”
“I don’t think so,” Bridger says, finally weighing in.
“What are you talking about?” I give his arm a gentle punch. “Dex loves karaoke. And he’s the most more-the-merrier kind of guy I’ve ever met. He won’t mind if your mom comes.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right.”
He drags a hand through his bedhead hair, and I flash back to waking up in his arms. Soft sunlight seeped through the curtains.
A small smile played across his lips. His skin was so warm, and his beautiful eyes were so drowsy.
My cheeks heat again, and I’m already looking forward to waking up tomorrow.
Good morning, wife.
Good morning, husband.
“Now that we have that established.” Margaret rises from the table, her posture regal like a queen. “I suppose I’d better get ready for our big day.”
“No toast?” I ask.
Her mouth twitches. “I think I’ll wait for the donuts.”
Bridger watches her float out of the room, then he slides his gaze back to mine. His eyes traverse my face like he’s taking stock, so I do a quick mental inventory of exactly what he’s seeing.
Pajamas and robe.
No makeup.
Hair twisted into a loose clip.
I block my mouth with a napkin while my tongue probes for loose food. “Do I have bell pepper in my teeth?”
“I don’t think so.”
Huh. I blink at him, bewildered. “Umm … I either have food in my teeth or not.”
“I’m talking about Dex,” he says. “You told my mom he’s my best friend. But … I don't think so.”
Wait. What? My lips part. “Oh.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” he says. “I love Dex. He’s family to me. The brother I never had. Just … well, you know.”
I pause before responding. “I don’t know, actually. And I have to say, I’m a little shocked. Is there some friend from college you’ve been hiding until now?”
“No.” He exhales. “You.”
“Me, what?”
“You’re my best friend, Loren.”
Whoa.
“I mean, think about it.” His eyes go soft, and his mouth goes crooked. “You’ve experienced my morning breath and yoga sweat more than once, but you stick around. What could be closer than that?”
“Good point.” I let out a tiny laugh, but my teeth dig into my lip.
I’m his best friend.
“Seriously, though.” His voice comes out rough, like it’s been dragged over rocks. “At this point, I’ve shared more with you than with any other person. And I’ve entrusted my entire future to you.” He reaches for my hand. “My whole life is wrapped around your finger.”
Our wedding bands touch, and my heart squeezes. For a moment, I’m too breathless to speak.
He must mean what he’s saying. His mother left the room, so he isn’t performing for her. And as I process the sincerity of his words, I realize I probably feel the same.
“You’re right,” I say, and my eyelids shutter. “If I were snowed in a cabin somewhere, or trapped in a turret, or marooned on an island, and I could only choose one other person to be with me … I’d pick you. Not Sayla.”
The pools of his eyes find mine. So dark, deep, and honest. “You’d really choose me?”
My pulse whooshes in my ears. “Truly.”
A faint sound comes from the other side of the wall. Like a scraping of shoe or … a sweep of silk.
Bridger stills. Then he mouths, “My mother?”
I pitch my shoulders up. “Maybe,” I mouth back.
We wait for a full minute, silent and motionless, giving Margaret plenty of time to retreat. When the grandfather clock chimes in the hallway, Bridger leans over to whisper directly into my ear.
“If she heard any of that, what we said only helps our cause.”
“Absolutely,” I agree.
“So good job, wife.” His breath is warm, and my insides melt a little.
“Good job, husband.”
The thing is, neither one of us had any idea she was listening.
And we said it anyway.