Chapter 27
27
CARLEE
“ C arlee,” Weston whispers in my ear, his arm still wrapped around me.
“Yes?” My eyes bolt open, and I roll to face him, realizing the sun is rising. “You shouldn’t be in here. My grandma will lose her shit if she catches you.”
“She’s already awake. I just heard her in the kitchen, making coffee.”
“You have to go,” I whisper urgently. “Put on your clothes. I need to sneak you out of here.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am!” I hiss, sliding out of bed. “Don’t get on her bad side this early.”
He chuckles, standing to grab his joggers.
“They all treat me like I’m a delicate flower. I’m not even the youngest in the family.” I slip on my shorts and the oversized T-shirt.
Just as Weston moves toward me, he slams his mouth against mine, leaving me breathless. I want to stay here just like this for the rest of the day .
“I can’t get enough,” he says.
As we pull away, the door cracks open, prompting me to push Weston behind it.
“Hi, Mawmaw. Good morning!” I call out, holding the door with my foot to keep her from pushing her way inside and discovering him.
I let out a fake yawn and suddenly feel like a teenager again, sneaking around so Mawmaw doesn’t lose her shit. Weston remains frozen, his gaze locked on me.
“Mornin’, honey. Making coffee. Should I wake Weston?”
“No, no. Just let him sleep in. I’m sure he’ll join us soon. He’s a light sleeper,” I say, lowering my voice to a whisper.
She nods. “I had a dream that you got married.”
“Mawmaw, we’ve been engaged for a day and a half,” I reply, trying not to roll my eyes.
I know how she loves meddling in relationships. She’s the matchmaking queen. I learned from the best.
“No time like the present, Leelee. Besides, I’m not getting any younger, and traveling to the city is tough on my old, weary bones. You two are clearly in love, so why wait?”
She winks at me before walking toward her sewing room, pausing at Weston’s door. When she walks past it, I let out a relieved breath, then quickly close the door.
“Want to get married soon.” He waggles his brows.
“Stop.” I glare at him. “If you didn’t know after last night, Mawmaw is one hundred percent Team Weston.”
“So are you,” he mutters, smirking.
He leans in, stealing another kiss.
As he moves away, I pull him back to me. “You make me weak, Weston. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“It goes both ways,” he replies just as Mawmaw whistles, walking past the bedroom door and back toward the kitchen.
“I have to go. Wish me luck. ”
“Good luck,” he says.
I study him, taking in the sight of him standing in my grandma’s house, looking like a daydream.
“This doesn’t feel real,” I say, still half asleep.
“It is, I promise.”
“I think that’s exactly what someone in a dream would say.” I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously.
“Would dream me do this?” He pushes me against the door, his leg parting my thighs, adding a slight pressure.
“Actually, yes,” I admit with a gasp. “Fantasy Weston isn’t tame.”
“I’m not either.” He lightly kisses me, pulling away as I lean in for more. “If you don’t go now, we won’t leave this room until lunch.”
“So tempting.” I force myself to step away. “I want a rain check.”
“You fucking got it.”
Once in the hallway, I take a deep breath, checking my pulse. My heart races, and I try to calm myself. Mawmaw doesn’t know. I just have to pretend he didn’t sleep against me all night long.
Weston drives me wild and makes me want to risk it all.
When I enter the kitchen, Mawmaw pours me a mug of coffee. She removes a container of vanilla creamer from the fridge and sets it on the counter. I move closer to her.
“How’d you sleep?” she asks, brows raised as she watches me.
“Fantastic,” I say, remembering Weston was snuggled against me.
I brace myself for the onslaught of questions I’ve been waiting for.
Before she can speak, I hear the front door open and close as I pour and then stir in the cream.
“Are you expecting someone?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder as light footsteps echo down the hallway.
Whoever it is, I owe them a thank-you later. Mawmaw wanted to discuss something, but she won’t forget. She never does.
A red-haired woman appears, wearing a big grin as she enters the kitchen, bright-eyed. It’s just past six in the morning, and in her hand is a basket of fresh eggs. With her voice and pretty looks, I’m convinced she’s a real-life Disney princess.
“Morning, Mawmaw,” she says, setting the basket down on the counter. “The chicks have been busy.”
“Hi, sweetie. Thank you,” Mawmaw replies. “Oh, this is Carlee, my granddaughter. But we call her Leelee.”
“Hello. I’ve heard about you in passing,” the woman says, immediately pulling me into a warm hug. She’s a natural beauty with high cheekbones. Her brown eyes sparkle. “I’m?—”
“Emma?” Weston’s voice rings out behind us.
“Weston?” she asks, puzzled.
“You know each other?” I glance between them, witnessing a flood of memories flash through their eyes.
Emma chuckles nervously. “Uh, yeah. This is strange. What are you doing here?”
They exchange friendly side hugs, both clearly surprised.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“I live here.” Her eyes study us with a curious wonder. “Are you two?—”
Mawmaw hands her a cup of coffee just as my jealousy flares like crazy. Every insecurity I have boils to the surface. I have nothing to worry about, right?
“Actually, yes,” Weston says. “We’re getting married.”
He shoots me a wink.
“Is Brody with you?” she asks.
“You know Brody?” I try to piece it all together, but nothing makes sense.
“Yes, he sometimes works for my dad. He stayed here during the holidays and took residence in Jake’s little cabin behind his house. You know, the one that’s used for storage for old holiday decorations.”
Jake is my cousin who’s six years older than me .
“Wait, Brody stayed here during tree season?” I turn to Weston, not sure how I didn’t know this.
“He was on a special assignment because neither of us needed him. I had no idea where he was, and he never mentioned it,” Weston confesses.
He interlocks his pinkie with mine. It’s a small gesture, but it instantly calms me when my heart races a little too fast. Weston notices my tiny anxieties and always does this.
When our eyes meet, I see his are filled with compassion and admiration. I wonder if he has always looked at me this way.
Yes . The word echoes in my mind as the blindfold shrouding our relationship falls away.
Mawmaw clears her throat, breaking the silence that streams between us.
“Emma married Hudson last week. She’s also last year’s Cookie Queen,” Mawmaw announces. “Come on, sit.”
“Cookie Queen? What an accomplishment,” I say, intrigued. “It’s a cookie contest held in town every year. Super competitive,” I explain to Weston, filling him in on the details.
“It’s a very special town tradition. I never could’ve done it without Hudson though. I needed my Cookie King.”
The four of us pull wooden chairs from under the kitchen table, following Mawmaw’s lead.
“Sorry, you married Hudson?” I ask, just realizing what she said.
A stack of newspapers lies haphazardly in the middle of the table. When I see the familiar font of the Merryville Gazette , it brings a smile to my face.
Then I catch sight of the headline about the wedding—“Hudson Jolly Marries Emma Manchester.” It was featured on the front of last Sunday’s paper. I open it, my eyes scanning the words that detail how happy they are together.
“Wow. Congratulations! I didn’t even realize he was dating anyone,” I say, struggling to recall the last time I saw him genuinely smile. She must be sunshine in human form.
“Emma’s also best friends with Billie and Harper,” Weston explains.
“I was at Billie’s Halloween party. I saw you two chatting,” Emma admits.
“Really?” I ask, trying to recall her from that night. But it’s a blur. I attended with Lexi. Weston and I acted more like acquaintances than best friends. “Oh, wait. Are you the Emma that Asher was in love with?”
Emma chuckles. “Yeah, sorta. I dated him for a month, but there was no spark. I’m convinced Billie and him would be perfect together. But you know how stubborn those Calloways are,” she says, glancing at Weston.
“It’s a lost cause with those two. Anyway, congratulations. Had I known you got married, I’d have sent a gift and congratulations,” Weston says. “My sister didn’t mention it.”
“It was a quick turnaround, and she’s been preoccupied with her business and being in yours.” Emma shrugs nonchalantly.
“This happened fast,” I say, still processing the fact that my cousin Hudson is married.
“As soon as Hudson’s divorce was finalized, we thought, Why not? What do we have to lose? I was never letting him go. And I knew he wouldn’t let me go either. We were like two galaxies colliding. I realized I couldn’t imagine my life without him,” Emma explains, blowing on her hot coffee. Steam rises from the cup like delicate tendrils. “You two know what I mean. Clearly.”
I glance at Weston. Is it really like that with us?
“ Emma Manchester ,” I whisper, finally realizing who she is.
It clicks in my head. Emma’s family is incredibly wealthy, but instead of joining the family business, she opted for the influencer route. The Manchesters own a very upscale hotel chain that rivals the W.
Of course they know one another .
Emma’s not problematic, so she’s never been on my radar. LadyLux has never once covered her.
“I’m Emma Jolly now,” she says, proudly displaying a cheesy smile.
“I’m trying not to fangirl. It’s very nice to meet you. Wow. I can’t believe you married my cousin. He’s so …” I struggle to find the right words.
“Grumpy?” she suggests, snickering.
Over the last six months, I’ve been intensely focused on Lexi and Easton’s relationship, leaving little room for anything else, whether it be celebrity gossip or family matters. Now, I feel out of the loop—something I never wanted. I’ve been a terrible daughter, granddaughter, sister, and cousin, completely avoidant.
“This is six degrees of separation from Weston Calloway. Do you know everyone?” Emma asks him, breaking me from my thoughts.
“Feels like it,” he replies with a laugh. “Small world. We’re all connected in some way.”
“Yes, we are.” Emma grins wide. She turns to me. “Funny story: I used to have the biggest crush on Easton and Weston back in the day—mainly Easton. I probably should’ve realized I was into moody men from the start.”
She shares that like she’s trying to ease my concern. Maybe I’m more transparent than I think. Nervous laughter escapes me.
Weston raises an eyebrow. “When I say all of my sister’s friends tried and failed, I mean all of them.”
Emma shrugs. “Weston’s a tough one to capture. You must be really special.”
“My Leelee is so special,” Mawmaw interjects proudly. “When she was younger, she was so shy. My big-hearted grandbaby. Don’t have many like her without an attitude. She loves deeply and is compassionate, empathetic, and a great listener.”
“Just admit I’m your favorite, Mawmaw. They won’t tell anyone,” I say, and she shoots me a wink .
Weston brushes his fingers across mine. Electricity surges through me, and I force my attention back to Emma.
“You know Hudson swore he’d never get married again or even date anyone until Colby was older. Can you share the recipe for your love potion?”
Mawmaw sips her coffee, glancing from Weston to me. “Honey, you don’t need it.”
“You don’t,” Emma agrees, and I can’t help but wonder how well she knows Weston.
“You don’t,” Weston adds with a smirk while drinking his coffee.
“Glad we’re all in agreement.” Mawmaw stands. “Now, what would you kids like for breakfast?”
“I thought we were going to Glenda’s?” Weston questions.
“No, sir,” Mawmaw scolds. “I’m feeding ya today. My treat.”
Emma stands. “Just wanted to come by and say good morning and bring in the eggs since I was nearby. Need anything else while I’m in town? I have to head home and get Colby ready for school.” She chugs her coffee, then sets the mug in the sink.
“No, sweetie. Have a good day. Come back over later, and we’ll play some rummy,” Mawmaw tells Emma.
“Maybe.” She leans over, giving me a side squeeze. “Nice to officially meet you. Bye, Weston.”
He shoots her a wink as Mawmaw smiles at us.
“Now, are bacon and eggs with some toast good? Or do you want sausage?”
“Either one. I’m not picky.” Weston stands to help.
“No, baby, let me,” she insists, gently forcing him to sit back down. “Now, let me know how you take your eggs.”
“Choose wisely,” I mutter to him. “Or she’ll never trust you again.”
“Over medium,” he replies without hesitation, resuming his seat and scooting his chair closer to me.
“Correct choice. You can never trust a person who orders them over easy.” She returns to the stove, setting her cast iron skillet on the gas burner.
Weston snickers.
Moments later, Mawmaw slaps a slab of bacon onto the hot iron. The aroma and sizzle fill the kitchen.
My eyes wander over the flowered curtains that have been hung since I was a child. It feels like a nostalgic little time capsule. The space brings back unforgettable memories from my upbringing and makes me miss my grandpa. He was such a kind, loving man.
“What are your plans this week?” Mawmaw asks.
Weston clears his throat. “Not sure. Carlee mentioned a Cupid carnival.”
“The town is expectin’ record crowds, so parking might be awful. Just be prepared. But the weather is supposed to be really nice. Supposed to warm up some,” she says, skillfully flipping the bacon.
Mawmaw taught all the grandkids how to cook when we were barely old enough to walk. After grabbing another iron skillet and adding spoonfuls of butter, she cracks open the eggs. Mawmaw hums a little melody.
“I read what you wrote this morning,” he mutters.
“Yeah? And?”
“I’ll have my lawyer get in touch,” he mutters, his gaze fixed on my lips.
I’m acutely aware of how he’s looking at me. “Yeah right. What did you think?”
“Loved it. And I agree; it does take courage.”
He steals a kiss, and I let him. I know I shouldn’t melt into him, but I do. Right now, I’m fully immersed in this fantasy. I want to play this game.
Mawmaw sets plates in front of us. “Eat it while it’s hot. Don’t wait on me. ”
I grab my fork and cut into my eggs, knowing better than to argue with her over this. She gets offended.
The whites of the egg and the bright yellow yolk are cooked perfectly. It oozes into my plate, and I realize just how hungry I am this morning.
“Wow, this is amazing,” Weston says. “Thank you so much.”
“Yes, thank you, Mawmaw.”
“Farm-fresh eggs—with lots of butter—make all the difference,” she explains. “Don’t y’all have them in New York?”
I chuckle. “Sometimes, I can find them at the farmers markets, but I haven’t had eggs this fresh since the last time I was home.”
“Don’t wait so long to come visit next time. I’m getting older, and I want to see you more,” she scolds.
“Okay, I promise I won’t wait so long. I’ll try for every six months.”
“Join us for Christmas this year. Both of you.”
“It’s February!” I tell her. “I can’t plan that far in advance.”
“And? Plan it now so there are no excuses for not making it.”
“She does have a point,” Weston says, then grins at her. “We’ll be here.”
“Fantastic!” She claps her hands together. “You’re staying here too.”
“Already staking a claim?” I ask, shaking my head.
“Yes, but you should come and surprise everyone. We’ll plan it and keep it a secret from the family.”
Weston chuckles, shaking his head. “Your favorite.”
I smirk.
A minute later, she joins us at the table and reaches for the strawberry jelly.
“How have things been with you two? I heard you’ve been seeing one another for a year,” she says, holding up her hand. “And before you get worked up, I didn’t read your journal. Matteo summarized it for me after he read it.”
“I’m mortified.” My adrenaline spikes because I wrote some very personal things about Weston. Many are sexual things I never wanted my older brother or the entire world to read.
Weston takes a sip of coffee, focusing on her. He doesn’t seem worried. “Things have been going great. We’ve had a lot of fun. No pressure.”
“Is she in denial?” Mawmaw asks.
“Excuse me? Denial about what?”
“Honey, I know this engagement is fake.” She smiles as she cracks open her eggs. “It’s just not like you to get engaged without us all meeting him first. You may not live here anymore, but you care about the family. It matters to you if we like your significant other, no matter where you live.” She glances at Weston. “If you’re wonderin’, we do like you.”
Weston smiles, and I shake my head.
Mawmaw’s eyebrow rises. “Am I wrong? Now, don’t you be lyin’ to me.”
I let out a huff, knowing I can’t feed her stories. “Mawmaw.”
“You can pull this scheme on anyone else but not me, sugar.” She smiles. “It’s okay if you do things backward. I’m not judgin’ as long as it ends with the same result. It’s obvious you’ve both got it bad for each other, so the lie works. Don’t stress about it.”
Weston clears his throat, but Mawmaw interrupts him before he can speak.
“It’s hard to play tricks on an old dog. The emotional connection you share is real, and it’s difficult to overlook. You two are like the fireworks show on the Fourth of July. I can see it in the way you look at each other. I’m just trying to figure out why you’re not moving forward.”
How did Mawmaw know it wasn’t real?
Weston turns his attention toward me, smirking. “I see where you get your spunk from.”
“No comment,” I state, keeping my mouth shut, not giving her any more ammunition .
Mawmaw wipes her mouth with her napkin, grinning. “Okay, so we’re not talking about it then?”
She may look prim and proper, but she woke up and chose violence today.
“How’s the weather supposed to be today?” Weston changes the subject as we finish eating, expertly steering the conversation away from the topic of us.
“Will be in the lower sixties around lunchtime. Lots of sunshine.”
“I heard you have an identical twin brother. Are you two alike?” Mawmaw asks.
“Yes, but he’s quiet and reserved. I think you’d like him,” Weston replies.
“Didn’t he marry your friend Lexi?” Mawmaw asks, and I nod. “Maybe they can visit for Christmas too.”
“You’d love them.” I chuckle nervously. “However, Lex is pregnant, and I’m sure they’ll want to spend their first Christmas with the baby at home.”
“Welp, the invite is open since you two will be here.”
I smile, then glare at Weston, who seems to be enjoying this way too much.
Once our plates are cleared, we volunteer to clean the kitchen while Mawmaw calls her friends on her brand-new cell phone. It’s part of her morning routine to catch up on all the town gossip—a habit she’s maintained for decades. If someone needs to know something, Mawmaw is the source. And if she’s ever out of the loop, she has those who do know on speed dial.
As we scrub the dishes, I say, “I have a bone to pick with you.”
“Don’t be upset. It’s ten months from now,” he replies.
I open my mouth to respond but then shut it. “But …”
“But what? You don’t see me in your life then?” he questions.
“What? Of course I do! If I think ahead ten years, you’re there. It has nothing to do with that; it’s just hard for me to predict my life that far in advance. Tree season in Merryville is intense. You’ll see when they put you to work.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” He laughs. “How did she know it was fake?”
“I think she just knows me that well,” I whisper. “It had to be a lucky guess.”
“Oh, so she’s as perceptive as you? Got it. I need to watch myself around her then,” he offers, studying me.
“What?” I ask.
“Your words are haunting me. To love and be loved takes courage . Fucking powerful. Spoken like someone who’s survived true heartbreak.”
“Really?” I ask, turning to face him, leaning my hip against the counter.
“Yes. You amaze me.” Weston dries his hands on a kitchen towel, looking at ease in my grandma’s kitchen like he’s supposed to be here with me.
“Thank you,” I say, clinging to his words.
As I dry my hands, an alarm on his phone suddenly goes off.
“Shit.” He pulls it out of his pocket. “Outside-the-courthouse coverage is starting.”
Weston opens the page, and the cameras are already rolling. My heart races as a car pulls to a stop. Out walks Easton, sporting a pair of Ray-Bans and a smug smirk. People in the crowd shout questions at him, truly believing he’s Weston.
“Tell us about your new fiancée!”
“She’s incredible. Carlee is the love of my life,” he responds confidently.
“When are you getting married?” someone presses.
“Very soon,” he replies, waving with a grin that feels almost like it’s meant for Weston.
I chuckle. “He’s an asshole. But, wow, he’s good at playing you. Shocking,” I say.
The camera pans out, and Lena emerges from the car, dressed in all black, as though she were attending a funeral. It’s dramatic, just like her.
“Lena, Lena!” someone yells.
Weston swiftly closes the feed and locks his phone. “Guess I’ll officially be divorced in an hour.”
“We should celebrate,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve got the perfect idea,” I reply, bubbling with excitement. “But you might want to wear some jeans.”