epilogue
brIDGET
Winter still clings to Enchanted Hollow. Usually, it’s dead grass, bare trees, and a bright blue sky, but snow still dots the ground, so it’s less blah than I remember from my teenage years. Surely spring is on the horizon.
Valentine’s decorations decorate the square; love is in every single nook and cranny available. Hearts and phrases like ‘’you’re the cream to my coffee’ splash across business windows. That’s one thing this place doesn’t skimp on—the opportunity to celebrate love.
There’s a nagging sense of dread in my chest as I walk down Main Street, but I’ve got no real reason to feel this way.
I mean, I’m half expecting Cupid to be waiting around the corner, ready to shoot me with a love arrow as I pass beneath massive pink heart garlands stretched across the width of this street.
That would be weird, though, considering I’m already supposed to be in love. Pink cotton candy love, like the color of Taylor Swift’s Lover album.
My happily-ever-after should be coming up quick.
After all, Ella’s thriving on Ever After Farms with her new family. There are plans to move onto her parents' property, but she’s not in a hurry. Laila is over the moon planning her own wedding to Holden—that we’re planning our weddings together.
See? I should be floating on a fluffy cloud in almost-wedded bliss.
My eyes travel down to my ring finger and snag on the gaudy jewel resting there.
It’s fine that it wasn’t the right size when Andrew put it there.
And it’s fine that it’s not me. At all. It’s fine that I’ve planned every second of this wedding alone.
I mean, it’s my speciality after working at Gilded Vows with my sisters for so many years.
I know Laila has noticed, and she’s kept quiet about it. Ella might too if I weren’t trying so hard to keep up a front. But it’s gnawing on me from the inside.
Especially since Andrew has been so distant.
He travels a lot for work, but he never seems to have time to talk. Texts are short. When we do catch each other on the phone, he sounds like he’s got something better to do.
I take a sip of my coffee and sigh. Maybe I’m expecting too much?
“Penny for your thoughts?”
I practically jump as Weston Reilly falls into step beside me, an extra-large coffee in his hand. The man is an overall pain in my rear; a shameless flirt that I met at Holly Everheart’s wedding last fall. He plays on the same football team as Cade.
“Shouldn’t you be watching your calorie count? The Super Bowl is right around the corner.”
“Kind of hard to play with this.” He motions to a giant brace on his knee, and I want to disappear.
Perhaps I can go find a rabbit hole and stumble across Wonderland.
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugs and takes a long drink from his cup. “I can think of worse places I could be.”
“If you’re forced to sit out, why aren’t you off on an island somewhere enjoying yourself? This place is small. And cold.” I dare another glance in his direction.
His mouth hitches up in a smile. “Maybe I want to fall off the map for a while. Small isn’t bad. And I don’t mind the cold. Perfect cuddle weather.”
Ugh. Does he ever turn it off? I change the subject.
“Shouldn’t you be in PT for your knee? I can’t imagine this place has adequate therapy for someone like you.”
“Aw, Bridget, does this mean you care?”
I huff out a groan and roll my eyes, flashing my left hand at him. “Still engaged, Mr. First Down, Last Nerve.”
“I can see, Spitfire. Wedding stress got you all in knots?”
“What?” I stop mid-stride.
It takes him another couple of steps to realize I’m frozen in place, and he glances over his shoulder, his eyebrows knit in concern. His gait is stiff as he closes the distance between us.
“You’re tense. Worry wrinkles all over your pretty forehead.” He motions with the hand holding his coffee, sloshing a few drops out of the hole on the lid. “I figure it must be the wedding.”
I chew on my lip, considering for the briefest moment spilling my guts to him. It’s not like he’ll run back to Ella or Laila and tell them what I said. But I don’t want to be the brunt of a joke.
His bright blue eyes tell me that might not be the case, though…
My phone pings with an incoming text, and I sigh in relief. It’s a short-lived feeling once I see what it says.
andrew
We need to talk.
My fingers curl around the phone, hesitating for a beat before I press the button on the side to dim the screen. A heavy weight settles in my chest.
“Bridget?” Weston’s voice is tender as he pulls me out of my thoughts, and it’s unexpected. “You okay?”
“Right as rain,” I reply, pressing my shoulders back. “Just a wedding hiccup. Like you said.”
His jaw ticks beneath his auburn scruff, so I’m pretty sure he knows I’m full of it. But I need privacy before my gut feeling is confirmed.
We’re stopped in front of The Grotto, and instead of pushing me for answers, he hands me his phone, a familiar image on the screen.
I recognize Wanderlust Refuge, because it’s where Laila stayed last December. It’s a vacation rental, as magical as the rest of this town. I’ve never given a lot of thought to the magic here until Ella’s life changed. And then Laila’s.
I’ve never experienced it because I’ve never been here and open to love at the same time.
For a moment, I wonder what kind of magic it might hold for me.
“It’s a nice place,” he says. “I’m only staying for a week, but maybe you should look into it. For later. De-stress and enjoy a little escape.”
“Well, if you want to fall off the map, this is certainly the place to do it,” I chuckle. I’d rather not mention the magic in case he’s unaware of it. He’ll find out sooner or later.
“That’s the idea,” he replies, and I can’t ignore the way his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
He’s staying here to avoid the Super Bowl. I lift my eyes and let myself feel a little empathy for him. Despite my irritation with him, I can’t imagine missing out on the biggest game of the year thanks to an injury. I’m also not about to tell him that I know he got it, blocking Cade from a hit.
“I don’t need to fall off the map, Weston,” I say, extending his phone back to him.
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” He tucks his phone into his pocket and continues to eye me. “I’m going to grab lunch and head back to the rental.”
“I’ve got an appointment at Moonlight and Lace for dresses.”
Weston chuckles, taking another sip of his coffee. “Sounds like a rousing good time.”
I roll my eyes and tug my coat a little closer as a biting wind blows down the street.
“It’ll be great,” I insist. Though the words lack the punch I intend.
“Try a little something for me, Spitfire. Leave a cloth out tonight.”
“And why would I do that?”
He takes a few, slow steps backward. “It’s St. Brigid’s Eve. If you leave it out, she’ll bless it and ward off illness and pain.”
I want to argue with him and tell him how silly he is. I’m not sick or in pain. But the words die on my tongue. I’m definitely feeling something, and it’s not joyous.
“What kind of cloth would I leave out?” I ask instead.
He flashes me a megawatt smile I’d have to be dead to not find attractive, and little butterflies kick up in my belly.
“That scarf would do just fine.”
“I’m not saying I’m going to do it!” I toss out after him.
“What do you have to lose, Bridie?”
“It’s Bridget!”
“I know,” he laughs, before turning and walking in the opposite direction.
What does Weston Reilly know, anyway?
The wind shifts into a lighter breeze, teasing the scarf around my neck. Slightly unsettled, I double back to head toward the bridal shop. I don’t know what Andrew wants to talk about, but I have a feeling, deep down, it’s going to change the course of my life.
If worse comes to worst, I’ll call in a favor with my future brother-in-law and temporarily fall off the map.
And maybe I’ll leave a scarf out tonight just in case.
I’ll take all the blessings I can get.