Chapter 9 Bree
Bree
Bree
“Omigawd. What in the hell was that?” Hannah’s voice squeaks, her blue eyes comically wide as she spears a cube of cheddar from the charcuterie board. “It’s like we crashed a photoshoot for Lumberjack Monthly!”
The three of us decided to skip yoga, opting for drinks and appetizers at Kaleidoscope. There was simply too much testosterone in Declan’s yard. We were left speechless, which is hard to do when we get together.
“I thought my panties were going to burn right off on the spot.”
I smack my sister’s arm, and she flicks my hand away before glancing at her phone and placing it screen down on the table’s wooden surface.
Kaleidoscope is an eclectic restaurant on the bottom floor of Urban Blue, a boutique hotel in the historic district. Its mix of pressed copper ceiling tiles and wrought iron fixtures blends well with the modern seating and vintage touches.
“Well, it’s true,” Izzy shrugs, her brown hair pulled up in another messy-bun. It’s her go-to look this week, and I’ve got to say, I like it. It’s good to see her let loose. “I’ve never seen so many biceps in my life. It was an absolute muscle fest over at Declan’s.”
“I was too busy looking at the treasure trails to notice the biceps.” Hannah giggles. “Who knew that eight-pack abs were real? No wonder their last name is Wilder.”
It’s all I can do not to choke as I take a sip of my cocktail, the crystal coupe glass nearly tipping over.
I definitely noticed Declan’s treasure trail sitting right between his chiseled V-lines.
My ovaries basically did a standing ovation.
Grabbing a nacho chip, I savor the crunchy, cheesy goodness, dragging my mind back to the table.
Hannah looks at me, her blue eyes bright. My bestie’s heart-shaped face has broken the hearts of many men, but I think it’s her dimples that keep them coming back. She is, without a doubt, one of the cutest people on Earth.
“Did you notice something different about Ford?”
“Well, yeah.” I grab another olive. “He didn’t have a shirt on.”
Hannah’s eyes widen. “That’s it! That’s it! Did you notice the snake tattoo below his belly?”
“No.” I was too busy ogling Declan.
Izzy smiles. “I saw it.”
“Look, look, look.” Hannah shoves her phone at me. “This account. I think the guy is Ford.”
On the screen is a hot guy chopping wood. You can’t see his face; he’s just shown from the shoulders down. He definitely fits Ford’s build, but so do a lot of men.
“I don’t know, Hanns.” I raise my shoulders. “Maybe?”
Izzy studies the video, pulling the phone closer. She swipes through several more, stopping at a video where @axemanblue splits a log, his gravelly voice punctuating each swing in a familiar timbre.
“Oh, that’s definitely him.” Izzy zooms in. “See that in the background? It’s Indigo Peak.
Sure enough, the mini-mountain just above the treeline at about the same distance it was when we were at Declan’s yesterday.
“Looks like @axemanblue’s pretty popular. He’s got almost 500,000 followers.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Hannah snatches the phone back. “He was at 30,000 a couple of days ago.”
“Looks like Declan’s brother is going viral.”
Hannah stares at the screen, biting her thumbnail absently.
“You okay?”
She closes the phone. “Mhmm.”
Izzy’s eyes brighten. “Which brother was Gunnar again?”
“The middle one. Why?” I lean forward, intrigued.
“No reason.” She takes a long sip of her drink, but I catch the faint flush creeping up her neck. “Just curious which one had the tattoo on his ribs. The geometric pattern.”
Hannah and I exchange glances. “That was Gunnar,” I confirm. “You were paying attention.”
“I notice things. Doesn’t mean anything.” Izzy shrugs, but she’s fidgeting with her napkin now. “Besides. I have to deal with getting an annulment.”
“An annulment? I’m confused.”
A pained look crosses Izzy’s gray eyes before she blinks it away. “Not having sex with your husband is grounds for an annulment.”
“I don’t know what to say, Izz.”
Hannah takes my sister’s hand. “Preston was the problem, not you. He’s a coward. So we’ll handle the annulment, and one day, when you’re ready, someone’s going to show you exactly what you’ve been missing.”
My phone buzzes, and when I look down at the text, dread pools in my gut.
“Why is Dad trying to find you?”
Izzy finishes her bite of bruschetta, the scent of fresh basil and balsamic tempting me. “I’m avoiding him.”
“You didn’t tell them?!” I whisper as if my father can hear me through the phone.
“No. I’m not ready to hear about how I’m a disappointment.
Or how the Pembroke-Washes are a fine family with good pedigree.
But I married well, and look what that got me.
” My sister grabs her phone and stands. “The next man I marry will be for love, and I don’t care if we live in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with no running water and only our hands to catch fish. ”
Tilting my head to the side, I laugh despite myself. “Liar. You can’t survive without hot showers.”
My sister nods once at me before heading to the lobby to call our parents, weaving through wingback chairs and modern seating until she disappears.
I’m really proud of her. I know that leaving her husband wasn’t an easy choice. We’ve talked about it off and on these last couple of days, and she’s resolute.
Hannah raises her hand to catch our server’s attention, the hum of patrons mixing with the soft music playing in the background. “Did she just say she’d marry for love next time?”
“Mhmm. I thought she was in love.”
“Me, too. But love can be one-sided, and if you’re not getting anything in return, the loneliness becomes corrosive, chipping away until what’s left is rusted and tarnished.”
I think about that. There was a time in my parents’ marriage when they were distant and bickering a lot.
My dad invited my grandparents to stay with my siblings and me and whisked my mother away to Brooklyn.
They stayed in a small rental and toured the five boroughs, just the two of them.
Mom later said that opting to fight for their marriage was the most romantic thing Dad had ever done.
If Preston can’t see that Izzy is worth fighting for, then he’s not the guy for her.
Smiling, I glance at the string of playful texts Declan and I have exchanged over the past two days. Each message is a tiny window into who Declan Wilder really is: thoughtful, funny, genuine.
Morning person or night owl?
Do you think Ladybug wants a puppuccino?
Thinking of you.
Hiding these from LB.
Tell me about growing up in Nashville.
You’re wrong. A hot dog is most definitely a sandwich.
Declan isn’t afraid to show me he’s interested.
“You’ve got it bad, Winthrop.” Hannah points at me with an asparagus, waggling her eyebrows.
“Guilty as charged.” I grin back at her. “And for the first time in forever, that doesn’t scare me at all.”