Chapter 3
THEA
I stare at the small, unimposing restaurant, just another spot in this small, unimposing town.
The drive through looked familiar, in the way all these mountain towns look alike.
When I came to the area with Owen, we made a game out of finding something unique in each of the tiny, near identical towns on the drive from the Asheville airport to his family’s property.
A store that sold both fishing bait and fine women’s clothing; a restaurant called Hawk’s Landing that had a massive moose statue in front of it; a taxidermist that had three dozen stuffed animals on the front porch.
It had been a surprisingly fun way to pass the two-hour drive with a stranger.
This trip up has been a less pleasant experience.
Instead of a quick flight, I had an eight-hour drive, and instead of the promise of financial security at the end, I have a mountain of bills and no income waiting for me.
I’ve spent the past few weeks trying to find a new server job, but no one’s hiring.
One of my old coworkers connected me with a catering company, but those gigs are unreliable and exhausting. I can’t do that forever.
But that’s a problem for future Thea. Present Thea has enough to worry about, like getting my ass to this party.
I shoot off a quick text to my best friend.
Thea: Made it alive and partially sane
Vaughn: Change your mind about me coming yet?
I fight off the urge to beg him to jump on the next plane.
He’d come and run interference for the awkwardness I’ll create, but I don’t want him saving me.
I don’t want Addy to see me rolling up with my best friend—who wasn’t invited—like a child who needs a babysitter.
This is my chance to show up for her, to prove that all those mistakes of the past don’t define our relationship.
Thea: It’s just my sister’s wedding! It’ll be great!
Vaughn: Two exclamation points in one text? You’re clearly having a breakdown. Booking my flight now
Thea: Fuck off. Love you.
Vaughn: Same
I flip down the visor to check my makeup one last time. I’d done it in pieces at red lights, frantically spreading on my concealer or making it through one eyebrow before it switched back to green, and I’m sure I’ll find a giant mascara smudge.
I’d planned on arriving hours ago, giving myself time to settle into the hotel before the welcome party, but the universe was against me.
First, there was a massive accident on I-75.
Then, in an attempt to make up the time lost, I got pulled over for speeding.
I don’t speed. I can’t afford to speed—either the ticket itself or the increase in insurance costs—but I was so anxious to get up here, to make sure Addy had someone in her corner, that I broke my own rule. And am paying for it. Literally.
When I enter the restaurant, the hostess greets me with a cheery “Welcome! You here for the Hayes party?”
“Yeah,” I answer, fiddling with my dress. It’s a little much for this dinner, but they have too many wedding events planned, and I have limited options.
“This way, then.” She talks as we walk, even though I don’t register half her words, before she pulls back the curtain to the private room. “Have a great time.”
I push into the party. Addy’s across the room, outfitted in a perfect white dress. It’s stunning, but still demure, like she’s been reincarnated as an article of clothing.
For the first time in person, I see the man who’s marrying my sister.
He’s tall, with thick blond hair and a confident smile.
He maintains contact with Addy the whole time I watch them—a hand moving up and down her back, an arm slung around her shoulder, fingers twined together—like he can’t keep his hands still when she’s near.
Loving. Reassuring. And when Addy smiles up at him, it knocks the breath out of me.
Addy’s always smiling, the result of a desire to be what everyone wants at all times.
She’s never angry, never disappointed. But it’s all an act—a desperate attempt to hold on to love where she can find it—and I see through it every time.
That isn’t the smile I receive from her, genuine and joyful, with a touch of mischief.
That smile has always been reserved for me, and me alone.
But Harrison doesn’t get my smile, either. This smile is so wide it splits her face, enormous, perfect, and tinged with the slightest bit of awe, like she can’t believe the person she’s looking at is real. I love it for her and am terrified of it in equal measure.
I study Harrison more closely. There’s something familiar about him.
When I saw his picture last month, I thought I must have served him at Cibare.
But now? It feels like more, and I can’t put my finger on it.
The woman they’re talking to is familiar, too.
Like my attention summons hers, she looks up at me and gasps.
Addy turns to me, my smile lighting her face before she calls out “Tia!” right as her husband-to-be hollers, “What?”
I reach around me, double-checking my dress isn’t tucked into my underwear from my backseat dressing room session, the cool of the red silk caressing my fingers.
My butt isn’t on display, regardless of how the group is looking at me.
I scan the room, trying to figure out what I’ve done in less than two minutes that has everyone looking at me like I ate the cake while they were in the bathroom.
I spot a woman who will stick in my mind forever, and my stomach drops to the floor. Beautiful in an unattainable way, but those soft features from three years ago are now twisted in shock.
And then I’m spinning again, looking for the person I know has to be here. The sea of faces blurs together, my rising panic making everything merge.
“Thea?” The deep rumble of his voice sends goosebumps along my arms.
I turn toward the sound, finding the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen boring into me from a few feet away.
Dark navy circles the iris, fading into a blue so clear it’s nearly silver.
If I were closer, I’d see the crystal green ringing his pupils, like his creator couldn’t decide on an eye color and chose to give him all the best ones.
He’s still perfect. The type of perfect that makes me want to reach out and ruffle him, just to see how he’ll react. No one should be that perfect.
The suit clings to his broad shoulders, tapering down at his waist. His light brown hair is a bit tousled, like he ran out of time to do it.
On anyone else, it would seem like an attempt at the too-cool-to-primp look, but on him I’d bet anything it’s genuine.
He was probably helping the staff set up or clearing up some last-minute plans for the wedding, even though it isn’t his job.
My panic is reflected at me, and I back away on pure instinct. My legs hit a piece of furniture and the momentum has me tipping backward, landing in something that makes a wet, squishing sound.
The entire room gasps.
I close my eyes for a count of three before confirming what I already know. My ass is planted comfortably on the huge cake they made for the party.
I scramble off the table, the sound of cake chunks plopping to the floor punctuating each movement.
The room is silent, so much worse than if everyone started piling on questions, and my anxious brain decides it has to fill the silence, no matter what comes out.
“I guess dessert is out, unless some of you like eating ass.” My eyes fly wide at my words, a new form of panic gripping my throat as people across the room gasp again.
Owen runs his hand back and forth over his mouth.
“Oh my god. I can’t believe I just said that.
And that. Why isn’t my brain working? Stop talking, Thea. ”
A cackling sounds from the side of the room, and I turn to find Owen’s grandmother bent over in laughter. Some of the other partygoers join her, but I can’t laugh along when the walls feel like they’re falling in on me.
I should go to Addy, apologize for making a scene right after I got here, but I can’t look at her face right now.
Can’t see the disappointment or frustration she’s bound to have, so I run.
I don’t stop, rushing past the diners at their romantically set tables until I push out of the restaurant, gulping in air.
The bell on the door chimes a second later. I turn, expecting to find Addy, but am greeted by those eyes again.
“Hey, Thea,” Owen says, as calm and collected as ever, his eyes traveling down the line of my dress.
A dress he bought me three years ago after I told him I didn’t have anything nice enough to wear to his cousin’s wedding.
When I’d come out of the bathroom back then, his eyes had bugged out and warmth had bloomed through my limbs.
His gaze now is less admiring and more assessing, probably determining how thoroughly I’ve ruined a very expensive dress. I’d looked up the brand after I got home and choked on my spit when I saw what these dresses were going for. And I just planted it right in the welcome cake.
So much for not making a scene.
“How the fuck is this happening?” I ask, running both hands up into my hair, only to belatedly remember they’re covered in icing.
I wince, pulling one blond curl in front of my face to see just how badly I’d destroyed my hair.
It looks like I’m a high schooler who thought putting in blue streaks would make me cool and unique.
“What are you doing here?” Owen asks.
“What am I doing here? I’m here for my sister’s wedding! What are you doing here?”
“Brother’s,” he says with a laugh lacking in all humor. “What are the chances?”
Slim to none. But the universe has never given me good chances. Why would it start now?
“But your last name isn’t Hayes,” I say with a petulant stomp of my foot.
His brows pull together. “Yes, it is.”
“No, it isn’t!” I yell.
He crosses his thick arms over his chest. “I think I’d know my own last name, Thea.”
“Your last name is Ellis.”