30. Sally
CHAPTER 30
Sally
SHOTGUN, SIDE OF SMOKED TURKEY
“Is this the dress?” I ask, doing a small spin in front of Mollie and Wheeler.
Wheeler lets out a low whistle. “Honey, that is the dress.”
“If there was ever a dress to wear while declaring your undying love for your best friend, that’s the one.” Mollie claps her hands before she pulls me in for a hug. “I am thrilled you’re staying in Hartsville. I keep wanting to pinch myself. Obviously I was thrilled you’d landed that gig at Ithaca University, but I know I’m not alone when I say I was hoping you’d stick around here for the long haul. We love you, friend.”
“I love you too.” Stepping back, I smooth the exquisite crepe fabric of the dress over my thighs. It’s fire-engine red, a shade that matches my favorite Bellamy Brooks boots. It feels like buttery silk as it swishes against my bare legs.
Smiling, I examine myself in the full-length mirror that’s tucked into a corner of Mollie’s former bedroom in the New House.
When I officially resigned from Ithaca University during a call with my adviser a few days back, I decided to put together a little last-minute Friendsgiving celebration so I could share the happy news—well, hopefully happy—with everyone. I want the chance to explain myself.
I also want Wyatt to see how committed I am to our relationship. By publicly declaring my intention to stick around, I hope he sees just how much I want to be with him.
Just how much I love him and how proud I am of the community we’re building here in Hartsville.
To be honest, I’ve gone back and forth a million times as to whether or not this whole thing is a good idea. What if Dad flips out? What if I embarrass myself—or worse, embarrass Wyatt?
Mollie convinced me to go for it. She was the first person I confided in after I hung up on that call with my adviser. When I floated the idea of making the already-grand gesture of passing up a dream job even grander, Mollie was immediately on board.
“Cash is allergic to drama,” she said. “But Wyatt? I mean, the guy agreed to fake date you even though he knew he was never gonna be able to keep it in his pants. Wyatt lives for the drama. You wanna go big, I say you go big . Love your man out loud, friend. Live your best damn life out loud.”
Which is how I ended up in this dress, a Gucci number I borrowed from Mollie’s closet. It’s special, it’s sparkly, and it’s giving me just the boost of confidence I need to, well, go big.
“You look fabulous,” Mollie says. “And you don’t look too too nervous.”
“Well, that’s a surprise, because I’m so nervous that I feel like I’m going to vomit. I promise I’m gonna try real hard not to ruin this dress, Mollie.”
She just smiles and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Don’t worry about the dress. Worry instead about how Wyatt is gonna break you in two when he takes you home tonight.”
“That man is feral in bed, isn’t he?” Wheeler asks wistfully.
Mollie is still smiling. “That’s what Miss Sally asked for— to have fun with feral cowboys. And look what happened! You asked the universe for what you wanted, and lo and behold, you got it.”
“You’re forgetting the twenty years I wanted Wyatt, but didn’t so much as lay a finger on him. I didn’t think he’d ever be into a girl like me. More than that, I was afraid I’d end up losing him if we ever did become more than friends.”
“But because you finally had the guts to ask for him anyway”—Mollie snaps her fingers—“it happened.”
“It did.” A burst of excitement—of joy and anticipation and heady disbelief—rockets through me. “I feel like I’m in the twilight zone. Like, I’m making such a mess of things. I don’t know what I’m going to do about a job. Yeah, I’m practically living with Wyatt, but we haven’t talked about moving in together?—”
“He wants you to move in,” Wheeler says. “You know he does.”
Mollie solemnly nods. “It is known that Wyatt Rivers would have put a ring on Sally Powell’s finger yesterday.”
I want to protest, to wave off their comments.
Instead, I smile. They’re right.
This all feels so, so right.
“Point being, I had a plan—a very good, very sensible plan—and now I have no plan, other than to make a life in Hartsville with Wyatt.”
Wheeler shrugs. “Sounds like a solid plan to me. You’ll figure out the rest.”
“If y’all want to make it work, you’ll make it work,” Mollie adds. “I know it can happen from personal experience.”
I am so happy, I might burst. “That’s the hope.”
“We’ll let your dad know we’re actively working on the job part.” Mollie winks. “I get that you’re anxious about how he’s going to react.”
Anxious enough to feel like I’m about to pass out, yeah .
“I just wish he’d trust me. I’ve never made a bad decision or disappointed him. I’m not making a bad decision now.”
Mollie grabs my hand. “I’m proud of you for sticking to your guns.”
Let’s hope Dad feels that way too.
Mom and I have been prepping food for Friendsgiving for days now, but I still spent the morning in the kitchen at the New House, taking care of last-minute tasks—setting the big farm table with the prettiest china and glassware, squeezing lemons for the maple bourbon sours I’ll serve, taking the turkey we smoked yesterday out of the fridge to come to room temperature.
I’m back in the kitchen at half past four in my red dress, the plan being that everyone arrives around five o’clock. Wyatt had a meeting with Cash and their contractor to discuss plans for the new horse barn they want to put up on the Rivers’ side of the ranch, so he’s been gone all afternoon.
I can’t wait to see him.
Really, I can’t wait to see his face when I tell everyone I’m staying in Hartsville. He’s going to be so, so happy. I wonder if he’ll ask me to move in with him.
I wonder how Mom is going to react to Dad’s reaction. She’s been nothing but supportive of my relationship with Wyatt, but I also know she’s so proud of my education and the future I had lined up for myself. Then again, she did encourage me to follow my heart when I we talked that afternoon in the kitchen. Surely, she’ll be happy for me—for us—right?
I put on an apron to protect Mollie’s dress. My hands shake as I stuff them into a pair of potholders and take the gigantic eighteen-pound turkey out of the oven. Reheating it has made the kitchen smell insanely delicious, like hickory smoke and the caramelized onions I made. My stomach grumbles, despite the nerves that have taken up residence there.
“Wow, that smells good.”
I nearly drop the turkey at the sound of the voice behind me. Setting the roasting pan on top of the range, I turn and see Dad step into the kitchen.
He’s carrying two reusable grocery bags. I know without asking what’s in them—Mom’s pecan pie, some kind of Thanksgiving-themed gift for Ella, and the linen napkins Mom pressed for me that match the china.
My heart twists when I see how tired he looks, the rings around his eyes deep purple. For half a heartbeat, my resolve wavers. Last thing I want to do is stress Dad out more than he already is. He works so damn hard and worries so much.
But I can’t take that on as my problem anymore. It’s not my job to fix that, just like it’s not his job to live my life for me.
“I’m glad Mom invested in the Big Green Egg,” I say, referencing the egg-shaped smoker we used for the turkey. “I think this is gonna be delicious. How are you?”
He sets down the bags. “I’m all right. Long day, but that’s nothing new. Your mom wanted me to drop these things off while she was in the shower back home. I’ve been looking forward to your Friendsgiving all week.”
“I have too.” Reaching behind me, I untie the apron and pull it over my head. “I think this could be a fun tradition, you know? A little more casual than Thanksgiving, but you still get the good food and the good wine. Plus, you get to choose your guests. Kind of the best of both worlds.”
That’s when I realize Dad is staring at me. Specifically, he’s staring at my red dress, a hard expression coming over his face.
“Awfully dressed up for a casual dinner,” he says .
My stomach drops a hundred stories. “It’s still a special occasion.”
“Only other time I’ve seen you get this dolled up was when you went to the potluck with Wyatt—you know, when you swore up and down that the two of you were just friends .”
Oh Lord. Dad is onto me, because of course he is. He knows me better than almost anyone.
“What’s going on, Sally?” He flattens his palms on the island countertop. “Please don’t lie to me this time.”
I meet his eyes. The saliva in my mouth thickens. “Tonight is the celebration of a new beginning. I’m”— just keep breathing —“not taking the job at Ithaca University.”
Silence.
Terrible, awful silence that rings with dad’s judgment. His disapproval.
My face burns. I can’t go back now though. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Hear me out?” I ask.
A muscle in Dad’s jaw tics. “Okay.”
“I’ve realized something since coming back to Hartsville. I always felt there was a piece missing from my life in Ithaca, but I could never really put my finger on it. I loved my work, but there was this…I guess this sense of loneliness I felt? Isolation? Our professors put so much pressure on us to do more surgeries, do more research, really push ourselves to be the best. But for what? It was always about the bottom line there. The grants we could get, the press, the accolades. I felt like it wasn’t about the animals or even the people, you know? And while Ithaca University was a good fit for my residency, I don’t think it’s a good fit for the rest of my life. I want to take what I learned there and bring it here?—”
“You have a higher calling than that.”
A flare of anger ignites in my gut. “What higher calling could there be than to serve my community? Than to feed my soul by doing work that’s meaningful, alongside people I love?”
“Trust me when I say you don’t want this life?—”
“Trust me when I say that just because we live in the same place doesn’t mean we’re going to have the same life .”
Dad blinks, clearly taken off guard by my vociferous defense of the choice I’m making. I’ve never spoken to him this way.
Come to think of it, I’m not sure I’ve ever defied him, not even when I was little.
“You have to trust me,” I say. “I wouldn’t be staying in Hartsville if I didn’t think there was opportunity for me to make a real difference. But I love the friends and family I have here?—”
“You fell in love with Wyatt, and that’s why you’re staying.” Dad grimaces. “Just say it.”
“I did fall in love with him. But he’s not the reason I’m staying. Not the only reason.”
Dad’s hand curls into a fist. “This is a mistake. I told him?—”
“I know what you told him.”
“What kind of man lets his partner pass up the opportunity of a lifetime?”
“Wyatt doesn’t know?—”
“I can’t believe he betrayed me this way.”
“No one betrayed you!” I scoff. “Don’t you see? This is a good thing, Dad. Your daughter choosing happiness is a good thing.”
He glances at me, and the furious glitter in his eyes makes my breath catch. “I disagree. You know how much I regret not doing more with my life. The opportunities I missed out on, the chance to save lives, the money…you can have all that, and you don’t want it?” He scoffs. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Then he abruptly turns and heads for the door .
“Dad—”
He holds up a hand. “Let me be, Sally.”
“Where are you going?”
“I said, let me be .” He grabs the door and yanks it open.
I jump when he slams it shut.
Well, that went way, way worse than I’d thought. I understand why Dad would be disappointed. But to get angry like that? To blame Wyatt, assume the worst about him?
That’s taking it a step too far.
My legs feel like rubber as I ball up the apron I’m still holding, toss it onto the counter, and follow him. But I’m already too late. By the time I’m out in the yard, Dad is peeling out of there in his pickup truck, the tires kicking up gravel.
I try to think. Where would Dad be heading? I don’t think he’d tuck tail and go back home. He’s too pissed to do that.
I bet he’s looking for Wyatt.
Oh God, what is Dad gonna do to Wyatt?
If I had to guess, my boyfriend is either still at the ranch office or in the barn, putting up the horses.
I decide to head for the barn. Running back inside to grab my phone, I throw on my jacket and head into the deepening twilight. Praying all the while that I’m not too late.