Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cara
“Look, I’ve wrestled bigger dogs than you and won.” Mocha, a mixed-breed rescue no bigger than a loaf of bread, doesn’t even blink. “You’ll feel so much better when I get that tangle out.”
She sits perfectly still, just staring at me, and I’m not sure if she’s trying to pretend she’s invisible or if she’s attempting some kind of mind control.
Mocha’s my last appointment of the day, and I don’t know if there’s something in the air or if it’s the way my morning started, but every one of them has been a challenge.
So far I’ve won them all, but I’m tempted to put down the de-matting comb and go straight for the scissors.
I dislike bribing my furry clients, but the clock’s ticking, so I grab a lick mat and load it with all-natural peanut butter—all of my customers list food approvals and allergies during intro visits—and a few tiny treats.
The mat has suction cups to hold it to the grooming table, and by the time Mocha’s gotten every speck of peanut butter out of the maze, I’ve detangled her without cutting out chunks of her hair.
Mocha’s mom is thrilled, tipping generously, and then I’m finally alone.
I have almost an hour before Mel’s supposed to arrive, so I throw myself into cleaning.
While I wash and sanitize the lick mat, I practice what I’m going to say to her.
By the time I’m finished sanitizing the rest of the equipment and vacuuming and mopping the floor, I’m still not sure.
I can’t tell her the truth. I want to, of course, and it would certainly be easier than lying to my best friend. But there’s a lot at stake, and I promised Hayden. If he has to lie to his mother and brother, I have to lie to Mel.
It’s not really a skill I’m great at, but now that there’s a glimmer of hope I can get out from under that house, it’s become something I want so desperately, I’ll do whatever I have to do.
Dammit, I still haven’t talked to Georgia.
A few minutes before six, Mel walks in. “I’m actually early. Put it on your calendar!”
I laugh, feeling better for a few seconds.
Her bouncy blonde ponytail, warm brown eyes, and easy smile always cheer me up.
But then I remember why I asked her to come and my amusement fades away.
She sets the tote on the grooming table and pulls out a massive bottle of white wine before unwrapping two wine glasses.
“You brought wine?”
Mel shrugs. “I know you wouldn’t have had me come over if it wasn’t urgent. And I know Hayden Reilly’s still hanging around town. And you have Gin for a mother. I’m not sure what’s going on, but whatever it is merits alcohol.”
I look at the bottle, nodding. “It’s an all of the above situation, so it’s probably good we both walked here. Crack it open.”
She pours us each a drink—none of that inch in the bottom of the glass nonsense for Mel—and hands me one. I’m still trying to find the words to give her the news, and I’m still coming up blank.
“How about a toast?” I say, thinking it’ll be a fun way to tell my best friend I’m getting married. I’ll pretend I’m happy and then take a very, very long sip.
Her face lights up and she raises her glass. “Is she selling him the house?”
That’s the part she’s going to cheer for, but only that, and I imagine her glass shattering on the floor, splashing wine everywhere. “Actually, maybe put the glasses down for a minute.”
“She’s not selling him the house?” Mel, clearly confused, sets down her wine and crosses her arms. “Are we celebrating or not?”
“We are,” I say quickly. “I’m getting married!”
Her head tilts in the exact same way as one of my favorite four-legged clients, and I have to fight down a nervous giggle. “Married? To who?”
“Hayden.”
She barks out a laugh. “I haven’t even had a drink yet, so this wine must put off some potent fumes. I swear it sounded like you said you’re marrying Hayden freakin’ Reilly.”
“That’s the second time you’ve called him that. You know that’s not actually his middle name, right?”
“The only thing I know is that I should have brought a bottle of vodka instead of wine.” It doesn’t stop her from downing a third of her glass in one shot. “This is a joke, right?”
“It’s not a joke.” A fraud? Yes. A bad idea? Probably. But a joke, it’s not. That would require, among other things, for the situation I’m in to be funny. “You know I’ve always thought about him.”
“I’ve thought about the guy who taught me how to sneak out of my house without getting caught once or twice over the years, too, but if he shows up in Sumac Falls, I’m not going to marry him because we dated in high school.”
“I’m sure your husband appreciates that.”
We’ve both emptied our glasses already, and this time I do the pouring. She’s not wrong about this conversation pairing better with vodka, but I’ll take whatever help I can get right now.
“Cara, you better tell me everything.”
I tell her the same story we’re telling everybody—we’d always pined for each other and we reconnected online. Then, when he showed up in town, we realized we’re still in love and don’t want to be apart anymore.
“Bullshit. The only pining was you wishing you could take a pine two-by-four to the side of his head,” Mel declares when I’m done, and I take a long drink of wine because lying makes my mouth so dry.
The way my best friend is looking at me isn’t helping. I hate this and it’s so tempting to tell her the truth. I can just swear her to secrecy.
Maybe more wine will help.
“If you were talking to Hayden online, you would have told me. You tell me everything.”
I knew this was coming. “Maybe I knew you would tell me it’s a bad idea and remind me he broke my heart once.”
“Because it’s a bad idea and, oh yeah, he broke your heart once.” She reaches for the wine bottle.
“I didn’t want to hear it.”
We argue for a while—drinking wine the entire time—about her being my best friend and doing her job. My rebuttal that I knew she wouldn’t let go of the past and I didn’t want to lose out on a future with him because of a mistake he made seventeen years ago didn’t seem to impress her.
At some point we ended up sitting on the floor, our backs against the wall and the almost empty wine bottle between us.
“How come you don’t have a couch?” Mel asks as she divides the last of the wine between our glasses.
“Because this is my work, not my house. If I had a couch here, the dogs would just sleep on it and then people wouldn’t pay me.”
“How come you don’t have any snacks?”
“Because the dogs would eat them.”
These questions are easier to answer than why I’m marrying Hayden. Plus, I don’t have to lie. Letting dogs lounge around on couches, eating snacks, is no way to run a grooming business.
My glass is empty again. Have I eaten anything since the PB&J that I brought for lunch. I don’t think so. The wine bottle’s empty, too. I’m about to ask her why she didn’t bring one for each of us when the door opens.
Uh-oh. I probably shouldn’t have any customers right now. I imagine what a doggy haircut given in my current condition would look like and can’t hold back the giggle.
Well, that’s not professional.
Then I realize it’s Hayden and feel all hot and melty inside. He’s so freakin’ hot—even hotter than when we were in high school.
And I’m going to be his wife.
Mel makes an exaggerated gagging sound I find hilarious. “I should have locked the door.”