Chapter 16 #3
“Thanks, I will.” Luna commandeered the drink, and Wren caught the eye of the stall owner and asked for one more.
She grinned and gave her a thumbs-up, happy to have repeat business.
Luna greeted someone walking past, tickled a baby under its chin, and rubbed the ears of a golden retriever on a leash, before turning her attention back to them.
“Well done on facing your father, Wren. I’m proud of you.”
Wren took Luna’s hand and ignored her surprised expression.
“I need to thank you, Luna.” Luna looked confused and tried to tug her hand away.
Wren tightened her grip. She needed to say this…
“Thank you for being there for me when he wouldn’t.
Thank you for loving me, for supporting me, for being the mom, for being everything, you didn’t have to be.
Thank you most of all for being my soft place to fall. ”
Luna shifted on her feet, cleared her throat and sniffed. Under her hat, Wren could see that her eyes looked suspiciously moist. That was okay, hers were, too.
Luna waved her hands in front of her face. “You were marginally tolerable,” she said, her voice cracking. “Enough now. If people see me crying it’ll destroy my image of being a ballbreaker.”
“Can’t have that,” Poppy murmured, cheekily.
Luna tried to straighten her hat, but just tipped it more off-center. “Now, let’s not spend any more energy on Chester. The goddess was obviously off her meds when she created him. Let’s talk about your kids’ performance,” Luna said. “I am very impressed by them. And you.”
“Wasn’t it fabulous?” Poppy gave a happy sigh.
Wren had worked with some of the best artists and dancers in the world, but having people you loved, who loved you, say they were impressed meant, well, everything. Wren bobbed a curtsy.
“You’re not bad at what you do,” Luna continued.
Dance was easy; Wren knew the steps, the rhythm, where to place her feet, and how to recover if she made a mistake. But grown-up girl-guy relationships? God, she was a disaster at those.
She’d chosen yet another man who ran out on her.
She missed him with all the power of a thousand suns, and she still hoped, stupidly, that Dane would come back, that he would fight for her, that he would choose her.
No, enough now.
She was done waiting, done wanting, and absolutely done being the woman who stayed in the same place after he walked away.
But being strong … that was future Wren’s problem. Tonight, all she wanted to think about was how many Pink Phantoms she needed to drink to forget about her blue-eyed Hot Doc.
* * *
After witnessing her confrontation with her father, Dane lost sight of Wren and Poppy in the crowd. When he finally saw her again, she was standing close to the bonfire, her eyes fixed on the flames, oblivious to the chatter and the announcer urging everyone to write down their wishes and regrets.
Now alone, she looked thinner, drawn, and exhausted, and she stared at the bonfire as if it held universal truths. Her hand clenched a crumpled paper ball. What had she written?
Standing on the other side of the blaze, Dane rubbed the back of his neck.
Nothing had gone to plan tonight. Initially, he’d wanted to approach Wren after the performance, when she was done celebrating with the kids and being congratulated by their parents.
But when he’d caught up with her in the food-and-drink section of the meadow, his approach had been foiled, this time by an older man who looked familiar.
Moving so that he could hear their conversation, he quickly realized she was talking to her dad and that his presence at the festival had rocked Wren.
Had Poppy not taken Wren’s hand, he would’ve. He wanted to run to her, to scoop her up and promise to protect her, but quickly realized he needed a minute to process what he had heard.
Someone touched his arm. He turned, scowling. Hadley flinched, cheeks flushing. He forced a smile. “Hadley, hey. What’s up?”
He expected a message from Hayes—an invite for a beer, dinner maybe—but she handed him a pre-printed pad and a pen. He frowned at it. “What’s this?”
Hadley looked at him with Hayes’s unfathomable dark eyes. “One side is for a regret, the other for a wish. When Luna gives the signal, you toss it into the bonfire and ask the ghosts to make it come true.”
“I don’t—”
Hadley glared. “I don’t want to hear any nonsense about how ghosts don’t exist. Wren gives me enough of that. Just write the thing.”
The teenager had teeth. Not wanting to waste time—he had a situation to fix—he wrote his regret in his unreadable scrawl. Not putting Wren first.
Hadley told him to tear it off, flip it over, and write his wish. He didn’t need to think. One word, underlined three times. Wren.
She was all he wanted. Waking up beside her, kissing her goodnight, falling asleep with her in his arms. Her toothbrush next to his.
Shared laundry. A life built out of small moments and big ones, together.
If they could just find their way forward.
They were smart. They could figure it out—if she wanted to.
But after her father’s reappearance, she’d been reminded all over again that love came with risk, disappointment, and walking away.
“That’ll be ten dollars.”
He blinked. “Sorry?”
“Five for a wish, five for a regret.”
Holy hell, they were monetizing spiritual angst. “You’re scamming me, right?” he asked, pulling out his wallet.
Hadley grinned. “Wishes granted are worth the money. And letting go of regrets for five dollars is a bargain.”
Hadley pocketed his ten and skipped off.
He shook his head. Somehow, he’d come to love this town—maybe because it had grown on him, maybe because Wren loved it.
Maybe because it held the only good memory of his dad.
It wasn’t home—though he wasn’t sure where that was—but he could see himself coming back here.
Maybe buying, or building, a cottage on the lake.
But first things first. He needed to talk to Wren.