Chapter 9
Two and a half years later…
Emma
It’s a beautiful day for a wedding.
Especially since this wedding is happening, and it’s happening with two of my favorite people on the entire planet, and they’re already kissing as man and wife.
I glance over to see Sabrina’s shoulders relax too as my brother dips Laney in her gorgeous white gown, refusing to stop at a simple kiss, and I nearly giggle.
Sabrina stifles a noise too.
We’re in front of Snaggletooth Creek’s City Hall building.
Ol’ Snaggletooth was the miner who supposedly founded the town, and the statue of him we’re standing beside is the one that my nearly forgotten ex-fiancé once damaged with a go-kart and blamed Theo for, sending my brother to jail for a crime he didn’t commit because he didn’t fight back with the truth.
Theo’s committed plenty of other indiscretions in his time, but the indiscretion that sent him to jail wasn’t actually his. He’s still sitting on a promise of a get out of jail free card from the sheriff.
Whom I’m reasonably certain is watching this wedding from the same distance that the rest of the town is.
All of Theo and Laney’s friends and neighbors would’ve happily come to the wedding—especially today, when it’s been an unusually rainy spring and early summer, leading to dormant wildflowers blooming amidst the mountain grasses on all of the hills and valleys around us—but Laney insisted the ceremony stay small.
Her parents. My dad and uncle. Sabrina and her boyfriend, Grey, who likely has his own plans to propose to her very soon too.
And not because she’s five months pregnant with his baby, but because they’re so utterly adorable together.
Just like Laney and Theo.
Rounding out the wedding party today is my date.
My perfect, sweet, lovable, light of my world.
“Tisses me too, Mama?” Bash says.
I squat next to my 21-month-old son and peck his cheek. “Absolutely,” I whisper. “Go get kisses for you too.”
Theo pulls Laney back to her feet and slides a look at me that very clearly says he heard me telling his favorite nephew—fine, his only nephew—to go interrupt their first kiss.
And Bash does.
He sprints as fast as his chubby little legs will carry him to my brother and my new sister-in-law, who are barely four feet from us. Theo swings him up in the air before he can charge his head into Laney’s six-months-pregnant belly, which is, unfortunately, his new favorite game.
Bash squeals in delight. “Unka Deo, higher!”
Sabrina snorts softly behind me, and I know she’s seeing the same thing I am.
Laney’s face telegraphing no higher! No higher! You’ll drop him!
My brother has never met a boundary he wouldn’t test or a rule he wouldn’t break. No matter how much Laney brings out the best in him, he will forever be a tatted bad boy at heart.
And we love him that way.
Much like we love Laney exactly as she is, whether she’s braving new adventures and having fun or lapsing into her natural rule-following tendencies.
“And I now pronounce this wedding over,” Zen, Grey’s nibling and one of my very favorite people in all of Snaggletooth Creek, announces.
Laney and Theo asked them to officiate today.
“Where’s the cake? We’ve all earned some—excuse you, sir, this is a closed wedding ceremony.
If you want to— oh my sweet baby Nora Ephron . ”
Zen’s brown eyes fly to me.
Theo’s brown eyes go flat and deadly.
Sabrina sucks in a breath.
Creepy-crawlies inch up my arms, over my shoulders, up my neck, and into my ears, which tickles like hell.
And then I hear someone speak behind me.
“Emma?”
Two syllables in a voice that has haunted my dreams off and on for two and a half years.
I feel like I’m trying to run through water in a dream as I turn to verify with my eyes what my ears are telling me— Jonas Rutherford is here .
And he is.
Oh , he is.
It’s not right. He doesn’t fit here. He doesn’t belong here.
Jonas Rutherford, standing on the sidewalk at the edge of the lush green grass surrounding the statue of Ol’ Snaggletooth, staring at me like I’m the ghost and he’s the haunted one.
His brown eyes are saucers. His white skin has gone a mottled gray beneath his dark stubble. His dark hair looks like he’s been raking his fingers through it, and his button-down shirt is mis-buttoned.
My soul suddenly feels identical. Never mind that I’m in a bridesmaid dress, heavy makeup, and a fancy updo.
My soul is just as disheveled and shocked as his entire appearance is.
His gaze moves past me to where I know Laney and Theo and Bash are standing, and panic takes over.
Bash.
Bash .
I have to?—
He’s there. Right where I left him, in Theo’s arms.
Except Theo’s handing him to Laney.
“Sorry, princess,” he mutters to his new bride. “Also, worth it.”
Laney’s lips move but no sound comes out. Bash sticks a finger in his mouth and looks at me.
“Oh, shit,” Zen whispers.
Sabrina squeaks again.
“Emma,” that voice says again, and I don’t know if it’s wonder or disbelief, but I know I have to get out of here.
Now .
I have to take my son, and I have to run.
For his safety. For his anonymity. For my peace of mind.
Jonas Rutherford appears, and I’m suddenly a runaway bride again.
Whispers. Laughter. Pointing. Mocking.
I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe .
But not yet.
Not while I’m out in the open—while Bash is out in the open—with one of the world’s most famous celebrities standing mere feet from the little boy who looks just like him.
My little boy.
There’s a shuffle around me. People are moving. Theo’s striding past me toward the sound of the voice.
Grey’s trailing him with panic written on his face.
I’m moving too.
Straight to Laney.
To Bash.
To run.
“Not this one, Theo,” Grey says. “He— oof .”
“Mother fucker ,” Theo grunts.
And there’s another noise too.
An urp and a gasp that’s followed by gasps from everyone watching what’s going on behind me.
I’m not watching.
I’m grabbing Bash from Laney.
“Em—” she starts.
“Potty,” I gasp. “We have to go potty.”
Bash is months—possibly years—from being ready for potty training.
And I have to go .
Wherever Jonas Rutherford goes, cameras follow.
I have a good life.
I have my friends. I have my family. I have my son. And most of all, I have privacy .
There’s no chance in hell I’m putting my son’s anonymity and security at risk for a man who fucked me, disappeared, and ignored the emails I sent him two years ago.
“You okay, man?” Grey says somewhere behind me as Zen trots up next to me.
“I can run faster,” they murmur.
“Mama, I run,” Bash says.
He squirms.
I almost trip.
We’re twelve feet from the tavern at the end of Main Street. If I can get into the tavern, I can get out the back door. “I need my car,” I tell Zen.
“The bee-mobile’s behind City Hall. I’ll pick you up in back.”
“No car seat.” I parked behind the secret speakeasy most of the way down Main because that’s where Theo and Laney are having their reception, and I wanted to be able to take Bash home without a long walk to my car whenever he got tired.
“You wanna hide from your baby daddy and all of his drama, or do you want a car seat?”
I almost jerk to a stop.
I’ve told exactly no one in this town who I slept with on my solo honeymoon. Who Bash’s father is.
It was my secret.
Not for having a secret’s sake.
Not entirely, anyway. It was just as much for privacy’s sake.
And while I think Bash is the spitting image of his father, he’s not even two yet . There’s zero chance anyone else would see the similarity without knowing I slept with Jonas.
For fuck’s sake.
Did I talk in my sleep? When were they even around while I was sleeping?
And who believes a sleeping woman ?
“Emma, wait,” Jonas calls, his voice high-pitched and pained.
“Uncle Grey racked him in the balls when he tried to get between him and Theo,” Zen murmurs while they open the door to the tavern for me.
“Only Uncle Grey could accomplish what Theo was trying to do more effectively while trying to stop any violence from happening. Also, Theo didn’t punch Uncle Grey.
He punched the flask in Uncle Grey’s coat pocket.
Hope he didn’t break his hand, but that’d be fitting for Theo and Laney’s wedding, wouldn’t it? ”
“Wack my balls!” Bash shrieks, drawing the attention of every single person inside the dark interior. Thankfully, it’s very, very few people.
“You need the loo, love?” Bitsy, the proprietor’s wife, says to me from her spot behind the bar.
“Back door, please,” I gasp.
She looks at me, then at Zen, then back to me.
Bash squirms. “Mama, down .”
“What do you think happened?” someone near the front window says.
“Shh. I’m filming.”
“ No filming ,” Bitsy barks.
It’s a standing order in Snaggletooth Creek ever since my wedding video went viral.
We don’t film things that could look bad if they got posted on the internet.
It’s not a fool-proof system—too many tourists for it to be completely effective—but for the most part, it’s worked well.
“Filming strangers can earn you a fine of up to ten thousand dollars in this town,” Zen agrees. They squeeze my shoulder and add softly, “Sabrina’s got this. They’re locals. Hey, Bash, my favorite little short person. You want a piece of cake?”
Bash stops squirming as we push into the kitchen.
Bitsy’s husband looks up from the grill, spots us, and shrugs. “Don’t want to know.”
“Bash needs cake,” Zen says.
He nods and jerks his head at a rack of desserts.
“Bash does not need cake,” I mutter.
“Put it on Uncle Grey’s tab,” Zen says.
They grab a plate and steer me out the back door and into the alley.
We hear a roar, and then a restored old muscle car that’s been painted to look like a honeybee lumbers around the corner.
“Where’d your dad get a key?” Zen mutters while they hustle me and Bash to the vehicle.
I don’t answer. Less because I don’t know and more because I don’t care.
I swing open the heavy door and peer inside.
Dad gives me a sheepish grin. “Don’t tell anyone I’m the reason Theo can hotwire a car.”