Chapter 9
9
Sloane
The best-worst thing about working in the local family practitioner’s office as his lead nurse is that my hours are consistent in the nine-to-five sense, but also sometimes topsy-turvy within the day itself.
Like today.
And unlike yesterday, today’s problem isn’t just that every patient I see wants to talk about my surprise secret boyfriend and our wedding. Today, I work through my lunch because of three last-minute appointments—strep throat, a stomach bug, and a late-season poison ivy rash—and only manage to get out for a bite to eat because Doc orders me to.
Not that I’m interested in eating.
Even if I do head straight to Crow’s Nest, Shipwreck’s bakery.
Grady, Tillie Jean and Cooper’s older brother, owns it. And I need to talk to his wife.
Again.
This time not about wedding plans.
I’ve already texted Annika, who’s six months pregnant with their second baby, and she’s promised to meet me here.
But the look I get from the dark-haired, green-eyed baker when I burst into the shop, making the door bells jingle wildly, tells me I’m not playing these new developments in my life as chill as I like to think I am.
The L-shaped bakery cases are nearly empty, with only a few pastries and muffins and cookies remaining. No one else is sitting in the booths lining one wall or the café tables scattered around the space either.
“How’s the bride of the week today?” he asks me.
I slow my pace and smile at him. “Hey, Grady. Any sandwiches left?”
“You’re carrying a lunch bag.”
Oh.
Right.
I am definitely not as collected as I’d like to be. “I felt like a bear claw but didn’t want to admit it, so I had a brain fart and asked for a sandwich when I meant I want sugary goodness.”
“Sorry, Sloane. All sold out for today.”
I make an effort to pull a face. “The universe is saving me from myself.”
“Is this a fitting into a wedding dress thing?”
I grimace harder, then try to smile. All of the questions about my secret romance with Davis and our super-fast wedding ceremony are making my head hurt.
Does Grady know it’s fake? Tillie Jean knows it’s fake. Annika was in on the fake boyfriend part, so while she hasn’t said as much, I’m pretty sure she knows the wedding is fake too.
So Grady must know.
They don’t keep secrets.
Or would she tell him it’s real because both of them run their own businesses and they have a toddler of their own and baby brain is a thing?
But I haven’t expressly told Annika it’s fake.
Not that I won’t tell her eventually, but I haven’t yet since the fewer people who know it’s fake, the better.
Is it better to ask a friend to keep a secret from the world for you, or to apologize later for not telling the whole truth?
They’re both bad, and I feel like a complete asshole either way.
And Grady might already know.
He also might not.
Gah .
This was a terrible idea, and my brain hurts thinking about all of the ways it’s a bad idea.
But then I think about Nigel, and I would fake-marry Davis ten times over, even with his Mr. Mysterious routine, if it gives me an excuse to send Nigel back to Iowa.
I’d probably even marry Davis for real to give me an excuse to send Nigel back to Iowa.
Marriage of convenience is a real thing. Why not be real fake married if you’re only doing it because you’re never dating and you don’t intend to live together?
Aren’t there tax benefits?
“If you think any harder, you’re going to burn the cookies I have in the oven,” Grady says.
I shake my head. “Right. Sorry. Lot on my mind. If you’re gonna get married, do it fast so you don’t have time to worry about dieting. Thank you for baking wedding cookies. We’re both honored and grateful. Is Annika around?”
“Not yet. She’s?—”
The bells on the door jingle again, and I don’t have to turn around to know that my friend has arrived.
I can see it in Grady’s smile.
They’re adorable. And disgusting. And adorable.
It’s a disgusting sandwich made with adorable bread.
Pretty much like all of the couples around my age in town.
“Dada muffin?” a little voice says.
“Hi, Miles, nice to see you too,” Grady replies. “How was naptime?”
“No nap,” the dark-haired little boy replies.
“Mommy had a nap,” Annika murmurs. “Miles did not.”
As Miles tears past me to race behind the counter toward Grady—for muffins, not out of excitement to see his dad, let’s be real here—Annika greets me with a hug. “What’s up? You sounded frazzled. Wedding plans go awry?”
I glance at Grady.
Then at his wife.
Annika grew up in Sarcasm.
I didn’t move to Copper Valley until college, and I didn’t make the hour trek from the city to Shipwreck until I was almost thirty, so all of the stories I’ve heard about the rivalry between Shipwreck and Sarcasm are secondhand. But I know these two were semi-forbidden friends in high school, that they had a friend breakup when Grady wanted more after they graduated, but Annika left for the army while Grady went to culinary school.
They reconnected a few years back when a family emergency brought her home.
I was here for that.
And then I did witness the town rivalry firsthand.
There’s been a reluctant truce in public for Annika and Grady’s sake, but I know behind the scenes, there’s still a lot of name-calling and suspicion.
Which is why Davis was correct in wondering how I would’ve gotten a map from Sarcasm, even if he shouldn’t know where it came from.
“Can we talk outside?” I ask Annika.
Annika’s brows lift. She’s roughly my height, with brown hair and brown eyes and a no-nonsense vibe. She’ll tell Grady everything I’m about to tell and ask her.
It’s what all of the couples in town do.
You tell one, you tell the other.
But I don’t want to ask Grady what I need to know.
I want to ask Annika.
I need to see her instant reaction to the question without any Grady influence.
“Outside,” I repeat.
Her lips twitch. “Sure.”
“In back?”
She glances at Grady, who’s lifted Miles up onto his shoulders while he finishes wiping the tables off.
“Sloane and I are taking a snack break outside.”
“Saved you a special snack in the kitchen,” he tells her.
Her smile lights up the entire bakery as she rubs her swelling belly. “My favorite?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you. You can come home tonight and you don’t have to sleep on the couch.”
He chuckles the chuckle of a man who was never concerned he’d be sleeping on the couch. “Grab a snack for Sue too. He’s hanging out back there.”
Clearly good men exist in the world.
But not for me.
Annika pulls me behind the counter, rescues a donut from above the fridge and then a few carrots from inside the fridge, offers me anything I want from the trays of cookies on a rolling cart, and when I decline, she leads me out back where there’s a one-horned goat staring forlornly at the dumpster by the back door.
If she weren’t six months pregnant, I’d ask if we could climb the ladder up to the literal crow’s nest decorating the roof of the building, but she is six months pregnant, so I settle for huddling against the wall while she tosses Sue the goat some carrots.
“Remember that map you got me?” I whisper. “For the museum?”
All of her cheerfulness dies a quick death. “What about it?”
“Davis knows it came from Sarcasm.”
You know those times when you tell a friend something and it doesn’t quite compute for them and they take one long, slow blink at you, like they’re trying to reboot their brain to understand what those things have in common?
That’s Annika right now.
Which is understandable. I’m coming at her from left field.
Even Sue pauses in his munching to give me a side-eye.
Annika tilts her head and studies me while she slowly chews a bite of her donut.
I curl my toes in my shoes and try not to squirm.
Or blurt out more of the story.
She swallows. “That’s not on display, is it? When did he see it?”
“Not important. What’s important is that I think he thinks the treasure is real, and I swear, he was looking at that map like it’s an actual treasure map.”
She glances up and down the alley. “Does this have anything to do with why you’re getting married? Tillie Jean wouldn’t give me any details.”
I hate lying to my friends.
Hate it.
Especially when my friends feel more like family than my grandma and my brother some days.
I’ll tell them everything once Nigel’s gone. I swear I will.
So instead of answering, I rush ahead with my own question.
“I have fifteen minutes before I have to get back to work, and I have to ask you something, and I need you to be so for real with me right now. Is the treasure real? I’ve heard Grady and TJ and Cooper all say it’s not, but is that just the Rock family story? Like so the tourists aren’t disappointed when they don’t find it and so people don’t bring actual backhoes and dirt-digging things out here to tear up Blackbeard Avenue in search of it? Does it exist and they found it and it’s hidden like Pop’s been hiding Thorny Rock’s diary? Is it real , Annika? Is it?”
She takes another bite of her donut, then puts a hand in front of her mouth while she chews and talks. “You’re really worked up about this.”
“Davis is upgrading the museum’s security system and acting like it has secrets about where to find the treasure.”
“Oh, I saw the work trucks.”
“This is weird, right?”
“Is anything about your fiancé not weird?”
That’s a very valid point.
And it’s also not answering my question.
“If the treasure’s real and any of the Rocks know about it, now would be a very good time for any of you to tell me or for one of them to talk to him.”
“If it’s real, Grady doesn’t know anything about it.” She frowns and glances down the alley past me again, then shakes her head and makes eye contact with me once more. Sue’s finished with his carrots and is eyeballing the last bit of donut in her hand. “We’ve talked about it a lot with the museum opening. He thinks there could have been something , but who knows if it was gold or silver or jewels or even something more obscure, like historical documents or the 1800s version of his enemy’s favorite sneakers. Maybe he stole the wrong pirate’s scabbard.”
“So there’s no secret knowledge in the family?”
She purses her lips together, clearly trying not to smile, as she shakes her head.
“And no rumors about where it would’ve been hidden if there was something?”
“We both fully believe that if the treasure existed, it’s either been found, or it’s forever lost.”
“Or you’ve been sitting on a map of where to find it in Sarcasm for years and didn’t know it.”
She pops the last bite of donut into her mouth and shrugs at me.
Sue bleats mournfully and flops to the ground.
“Does your mama know anything else about Thorny Rock and Walter Bombeck?”
Annika’s mother was the source of all of my knowledge of Sarcasm’s side of the old pirate tale. She also told me Sarcasm’s version of the original reason for the feud between the two towns.
“Maybe? I don’t know. Do you want to talk to her? She loves it when Shipwreck shitheads—ah, residents—need things from her.” Her eyes twinkle as she grins at me. “Oops. Don’t tell Grady I slipped.”
As if she won’t tell him herself.
And as if she didn’t do it on purpose.
“I would love to visit your mama.”
“Me too,” a voice says behind me.
I shriek.
Annika shrieks.
Sue leaps to his hooves, bleats in terror, and takes off running down the alley.
And Davis stands there stone-faced, looking for all the world like he has no idea why we’d be shrieking about being snuck up on from behind a dumpster.
I press a hand to my hammering heart. “Where the hell did you come from, and how long have you been standing there?”
“You are so not my favorite boy bander anymore,” Annika says. “Dammit. I have to pee. You scared the pee out of me, and I was having a good pee day. The baby’s not sitting on my bladder for once, but now I have to pee.”
Davis gestures to the bakery back door. “Apologies. Don’t let me stop you.”
“No, no, I can hold it for a minute. What are you doing here?”
“Taking a walk.”
“Down an alley instead of on the main roads?” I ask.
“More private.”
Or he was spying on me again.
Or guarding me.
My stomach flutters, but it’s also growling a bit.
“Why do you think Thorny Rock’s treasure is real?” Annika asks him.
He studies her briefly before looking back at me. “Do you have any museum artifacts stored at your house?”
“Rude,” Annika mutters.
“Agreed.”
He flicks a glance back at her. “Real or not real is irrelevant when perception is reality. The public believes it exists. The perception is that someone can find it.”
Annika’s no longer amused.
She’s former military. And both risk-aware and risk-averse, which means she’s likely now thinking about how many people could get hurt looking for the treasure.
She’s mentioned it before a time or two as well.
“Sloane?” she says. “ Do you?”
I don’t want to answer that question. Mostly because there’s not a good answer to it.
The bakery back door opens, and Grady sticks his head out, Miles still on his shoulders. “Everything okay? I heard almost screaming.”
“Shipwreck’s next most important groom scared us,” Annika says. “Scared your goat too. One of us should head home and let Sue inside. I think that’s where he was headed.”
Grady looks at Davis.
Davis nods.
“Heard you’re getting married,” Grady says.
“Yep.”
“Gonna treat her right?”
“As right as she wants me to.”
“Don’t be a dick.”
“Sometimes necessary.”
“Not for a fake wedding.”
I choke on air. “You guys. Quiet .” If Davis snuck up on us, who else is listening?
“Isn’t a fake wedding a dick move by default?” Davis’s brown eyes cut to me. “No judgment. Guilting someone into a fake wedding is also a dick move.”
“You could’ve said no,” I sputter.
“Meant your family.”
I blink.
He just called my family dicks.
And I think I like it.
“Don’t piss off your bride in front of the guy who’s making your wedding cookies,” Grady says.
I shake my head. “I’m not pissed. I’m grateful. And annoyed, but grateful.”
Davis is still watching me like he knows I’m finally putting into words that my family is full of dicks.
And I feel a little guilty for that, but also, they are.
“How many people know this is fake?” I whisper to Annika.
“ Know ? A very small handful. Suspect ? Most of the town. But also, they’re well-trained.”
My face is getting hot. “I know I should’ve told you?—”
“That guy who crashed the wedding? The hot one?” Annika interrupts.
“He wasn’t that hot,” Grady mutters.
“Grady. We’re happily married, not blind. He got past all of security because he’s Hollywood hot.”
“With a terrible personality,” Davis adds.
“ Exactly ,” Annika says. “If I were you, I wouldn’t risk anyone spilling the beans to a guy with that kind of personality. Especially when all of your best friends are pregnant and/or keeping up with toddlers. We’re tired . We love you, and we get it. We wouldn’t tell us either if we didn’t have to, and the fact that I didn’t even wonder why you never told me you were dating is very much a statement about my mental capacity to handle complex information right now.”
“Or it’s a testament to how much you know some people who are main characters in this wedding are very secretive and private,” Grady says.
“No, this is definitely pregnancy and mother-to-a-toddler brain. Talk to me in about four years, and I’ll have a different take on things. Probably. Also, I get to be a bridesmaid if you ever have a real wedding, right?”
I’m so relieved, I could cry.
Who handles secret fake weddings like this?
And how do I deserve them as friends?
I hug her tight. “Of course. No question. Real weddings get best friends for bridesmaids.”
Davis shifts beside me. “Can we go talk to her mother now?”
The right answer is no .
That there’s no we , there’s me .
Except he knows something, and I want to know what he knows.
“Would it be a total inconvenience to talk to your mama sometime soon?” I ask Annika.
“Are you sure you want him to go along?”
“I have to learn to pretend to be in love with him in person and not just in photoshopped pictures, and I have to do it in four days. Practice is probably good.”
“Don’t the ladies usually find you irresistible?” Grady says to Davis.
“No.” He looks at me. “Let’s go. Now’s good.”
At least he’s aware of the fact that he’s annoying. “I have this thing called work,” I say.
“When are you off?”
“Five.”
“I’ll pick you up.”
I look at Annika.
She’s grinning.
So is Grady.
Miles is drooping up on Grady’s shoulders, bent over Grady’s head like not napping is catching up with him.
“Is there anything you want to tell us about Thorny Rock’s treasure?” I ask Grady.
If I had any doubts that he was hiding something, the utter confusion wrinkling his face clears that up. “What’s with you talking about the treasure again? There isn’t a treasure.”
Davis gives a subtle headshake, which I interpret to mean this guy’s dumb .
Or possibly this guy’s hiding something.
Or maybe he’s used up all of his words for the day and doesn’t know what to do with himself now.
“We’re playing a game,” I tell Grady. “He fake-marries me, and I humor his insistence that the treasure is real and we have to find it.”
Grady slowly nods, making Miles tilt more precariously up there. “Well. Good luck with that.”
I nod back. “If you’re gonna be in a lose-lose situation, might as well do it right.”
And Davis?—
The man smirks.
“Also,” I tell my pretend fiancé, “I told my grandmother that you’d video call with her soon. I forgot to mention that this morning.”
His expression goes flat again. “This for that? You take me to see Annika’s mother and then I talk to your grandmother?”
I could come up with a story about how Davis got busy seeing if he preferred fucking goats to fucking sheep and is so sorry to miss her, but what’s the fun in that?
I’m never getting married.
And this back-and-forth, I’ll-do-this-for-you-if-you-do-this-for-me thing is almost fun in a weird way. “It’s what we’re doing, isn’t it? And she won’t talk to you solo. She’s heard things about you and also made up a whole lot worse in her mind.”
He holds eye contact for an uncomfortably long while, like he’s calling me on the lie, but I don’t blink, and I don’t look away either.
Finally, he gives the barest of nods. “It’s what we’re doing.”