Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Bridger
ME
Not sure if Loren gave Sayla the heads-up yet, but my mom’s here.
DEX
Where?
ME
Here. Harvest Hollow. Staying in our house.
DEX
Dude.
ME
I know.
DEX
How can I help? Need me to squire her around town? Dazzle her with my charm? Talk Wall Street with her? Duct tape her and stow her on a train back to New York?
ME
Thanks, but I’m already on squire duty. Taking her shopping. The rest is unnecessary. For now.
DEX
Say the word, and I’ll meet you out. As backup. Or we could tag Sayla in for a girls’ day at the spa with her and Loren. Not that Sayla and Loren usually do spas. But I figure YOU don’t want to share a sauna room with your mom.
ME
Eye bleach. Mind eraser.
DEX
Sorry.
ME
Gird your loins. She may be joining us on Saturday for my birthday. IF Loren and I can’t get rid of her organically by then.
DEX
For real? You want Say and me to welcome her or cold-shoulder her?
ME
Literally no idea.
DEX
There's always duct tape and the train.
ME
Ha. Still no. But thanks for making me laugh, man.
DEX
I got you. Always. And if it helps, tell mama I’m making a list of karaoke songs for her. That oughta organic her right out of town.
“Book Smart.”
My mother reads the name of the shop out loud, glaring up at the sign.
We’re on Maple Street, smack dab in the heart of downtown.
The sun is shining. Dogwoods are dropping petals on the sidewalks.
We might as well be on the set of a Hallmark movie.
But we’re not in Manhattan. So Margaret Adams has yet to find value in a single place we’ve visited.
Big surprise.
I reach for the door. “Should we go inside?”
“Oh, why not?” She sighs. “Maybe I’ll find a book on cat care to give you and Loren as a wedding gift. So far, you two seem to be doing a less-than-stellar job with yours.” She sends me a sly look. “Beginning with that name. Garfield? For a female cat? What were you thinking?”
This earns her a genuine chuckle.
Guess I come by my dry sense of humor honestly.
One of the few things I got from my mom that I actually like.
I hold the door open for her to step inside, and she makes a beeline for the animals section, while I wait for an elderly couple to shuffle out.
I’m about to let go of the door when a small-ish man wearing cycling clothes—minus the helmet—appears.
He tries to slide in before the door closes and knocks my arm loose.
“Sorry,” the guy spouts.
“No prob—”
We make eye contact, and my chest implodes.
Loren’s ex. Foster Abel.
We only met once before, at Stony Peak’s holiday party my first year at the school. By then, I already knew Loren was smart. Welcoming and beautiful. But I wouldn’t let myself think anything beyond that. She was engaged. To Foster. And I respected their bond. Now my guts bottom out.
Kind of like my respect for this idiot.
“Hey.” He pushes his sunglasses onto his forehead and squints at me. “Aren’t you—”
“I don’t think so,” I grunt.
And I’m not even sure who he thinks I am, so I just assume he means, Hey, aren’t you the man who should’ve been with Loren all along, while I'm the incredible tool with zero sense of what I had before I tossed it away?
Or something like that.
We step out of the doorway to leave a path for people coming and going, and I’m about to keep going, steering clear of this dude for the rest of our natural-born lives, but he snaps his fingers at me. “Got it! Loren’s friend.”
I turn slowly. “Yeah. That’s right.” I have to fight not to make the words a snarl.
“Hey, can I ask you … How is she?” He has the nerve to flinch with the question, like he actually cares. “You probably heard things didn’t work out with us.”
“I heard.” I grit my teeth, almost losing the fight against the snarl. But Loren wouldn’t want this guy to know she shed one single tear over him. He didn’t deserve her then. He never will. “She’s good.”
Better off.
“I still think about her, you know. A lot.”
My hands ball into fists at my sides. “Do you.” Not a question.
“She was really great,” he says. “Our relationship was just …”
Oh man. He’d better be very careful what she says next.
“Too messy,” he says.
And now I kind of want to make the guy’s too-pretty face messy. Permanently.
“So you probably know what happened with her mom, huh?” He grimaces, digging his grave deeper. “Man, that was a hard time for everyone.”
For everyone. I seethe. But keep it inside.
“And then her dad took a major turn,” he continues.
“Harlan.” The name flies from my mouth like the punch I want to land on Foster’s jaw.
“Good man.” He nods, all sincerity. “As his former neurologist, I can’t share details, obviously. But let’s just say his condition’s brutal. And potentially hereditary.”
So much for not sharing.
“Loren was in some pretty serious denial about that last fall," he goes on. “They were both really going through it.”
“So you thought that was the perfect time to leave,” I say. Again, not a question.
Foster startles, then cocks his chin. “What was your name again?”
“Adams,” I grit out. “Bridger.”
He steps to me, pointing a finger at my chest. “Listen, Bridger. I think—”
“No, you listen, Doctor Abel,” I growl. I’ve got at least three inches on the guy, and I use every one of them to loom over him.
“I understand calling off a wedding. No one should get married who isn’t one hundred percent all in.
But you pushed Loren away when she needed you most. That woman trusted you. And you betrayed her.”
He takes a step back, stumbling when the clips on his bike shoes send him off balance. I grab his arm, hauling him off the display of children’s books he’s about to topple. What I actually want to do is throw him across the store.
He scowls at me anyway.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he spits.
“Oh, I have plenty of ideas.”
“I get that you’re Loren’s friend and all,” he pouts. “But you can’t—”
I step closer.
“Excuse me.” My mother suddenly appears at my side. “But I’m afraid you’re mistaken. My son isn’t Loren’s friend,” she purrs. “Bridger is her husband.”