Chapter 17
Vivi realized she’d officially become the town’s favorite reality show—minus the paycheck and with twice the unsolicited commentary.
The town was too small for secrets, too curious for silence, and Vivi could feel every pair of eyes on her like sunlight through water making it impossible to escape.
She'd barely stepped onto Main Street before someone "just happened" to mention seeing her laundry hanging outside Callahan Ranch.
By the time she reached the post office, Mrs. Landry had already upgraded the rumor to a full-blown love affair.
Vivi tried to laugh it off, but underneath the practiced smile was that old, familiar ache that came from being misunderstood by people deciding who she was before she'd even figured it out herself.
She told herself it didn't matter. That she didn't care what others thought, but caring was kind of her thing and pretending otherwise was starting to feel like the worst kind of lie.
So Vivi smiled back, because in Bridlewood that was the law of the land—you acknowledged people or risked being discussed over pie.
In New York she could've walked for miles without making eye contact, gloriously anonymous, and free to disappear into the crowd. Turns out being invisible was a luxury.
She stepped up onto the curb, juggling a coffee and the self-conscious weight of small-town eyes, when she nearly collided with Colter coming out of the Buns & Guns, the local diner and gun shop.
He caught her elbow before she could spill her drink.
"Whoa there," he said, grinning like he'd found the answer to the universe—or at least to breakfast.
"You look suspiciously cheerful," she said, squinting at him. "Like you've got a miracle contraption that handles every critter problem while you get to take a nap."
His laugh was low and genuine. "Better. I've got a second date tonight."
"A second date? As in, you saw someone once and willingly decided to see them again?"
Colter scratched the back of his neck. "Don't sound so shocked. She's nice, easy to talk to and doesn't want to take things too fast. Snail's pace works for her."
Vivi felt a smile tug at her lips. "Wow! That's big news. When was the last time you had a second date?"
"Probably not since the Obama administration."
"So?" she asked, teasing now, her grin widening. "Does she give off wifey vibes?"
For a second, Colter froze. Actually froze. His face went the color of fresh paper. "Uh—well, I wouldn't go that far," he stammered. "But thanks for the help, Vivi. Seriously."
And just like that, he was gone—retreating toward his truck like she'd threatened to start humming the wedding march.
Vivi stood there, grinning into her coffee and she felt a little taller and a little steadier. Maybe she wasn't just the town's entertainment or the outsider trying too hard to belong. Maybe she was helping these Callahan men find their footing again.
And maybe, she thought, taking another sip, she was finally finding hers too.
She'd helped thousands of people find their matches over the years, had been invited to more weddings than she could count but none of those interactions had felt like this.
Because none of them had been this personal.
Helping people she actually knew was something else entirely—and she wouldn't mind doing it again.
Speaking of which, Vivi walked past Buns and Guns and around a cluster of women in their Sunday best who were looking at her like she was an alien from Mars.
She gave a polite smile followed by a chipper "Afternoon.
" And since today's Glow Up exercise was to compliment a stranger, she added, "You ladies aren't a squad—you're a walking Instagram feed. Keep up the good work."
Man oh man, did they smile. Ear to ear and from the soul. And so did Vivi. Making someone's day seemed to make hers right back.
She stepped off the curb and crossed the street toward Hammered and Nailed, Bridlewood’s only hardwood and metal art store. Situated on the south end of Main Street, right next to Granny’s Grocer’s and Grain, Hammered and Nailed was a red shiplap building with a plaque by the door.
Established in 1874 by Mary and Jack Button, this hardware store has been in the Button
family ever since—three generations of tools, tradition, and not fixing what wasn’t broken.
Vivi shoved through the door and a cowbell clanked in her wake. The scent of two-by-fours, motor oil, and all things home repair greeted her. So did Spud's voice.
"Be with you when I can," he grumbled from beneath a piece of art made from soldered car parts.
Behind him was an organized display of shiny metal and smooth wood stacked in neat towers.
Rows of nails glinted like tiny soldiers under the fluorescent lights, while cans of paint lined the shelves in a rainbow gradient that made the whole aisle feel like a candy store for DIYers.
Hammers hung from hooks like polished trophies, next to a pegboard of screwdrivers, and beside them was a bin of random tools labeled Odds & Ends.
Above it all, a hand-painted banner announced, “Bridlewood Sunflower Spectacular July 25th.”
Spud peeked his head over the workbench and smiled. He had magnifying goggles on that made him look like Mad-Eye Moody from Harry Potter.
"She's a beaut, ain't she?" Spud asked, making his way toward Vivi.
Vivi wanted to point out that she was an interesting pronoun for a penis sculpture but decided to keep that opinion to herself given the pride gleaming through his smile.
Today he was wearing a dusty flannel that hugged him like armor, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that had clearly seen more hard work than most people could imagine. In his hand was the aforementioned steel penis with bolts for balls.
"A man special-ordered it and then returned it," Spud continued. "Said the shape wasn't family friendly. Not family friendly? Can you imagine someone saying that about such a unique piece?"
"I cannot imagine," Vivi said noncommittally.
Spud was the gatekeeper between her and the bunkhouse being a success.
She needed lumber—and a lot of it. She also needed it fast if they were going to finish in time and Hammered and Nailed was the only place in town that could deliver lumber ASAP.
The next closest location was Big Sky, a two-hour drive away, and ordering from there would take weeks.
She'd already asked Jo to donate coffee for the day of the “barn raising” and Jo had agreed. All she needed now was doughnuts and a baker's dozen volunteers to help demo and refurbish the bunkhouse. It was good to know she had supporters.
What was not good was that the town gossip vine was still chattering. And even though she'd proven she wasn't going to turn tail and run back to the city, there was still talk about the nature of her and Boone's “relationship”. So, it was time she set the record straight.
"You know that orgasm we were talking about?" she said. "You can spread the word that I'm still working on it."
Spud's face turned red from neck to ears. "Well, that wife? No luck there either."
"What's holding you back?" Vivi asked.
"No prospects," he said solemnly.
"How about you?"
"No prospects."
"So, you and Boone?"
She shook her head vigorously. "Most definitely not. He's just my landlord."
Spud threw his arms around her and gave her a hug that nearly crushed her sternum. "Well, you just won me a hundred bucks, young lady."
"You didn't think—?"
"Heck, no," Spud said, pulling back. "You're a lady through and through. Plus, that boy's still mourning his parents. There's no room in his heart for happiness with all that grief."
No room in his heart for happiness?
Vivi's chest felt like it had been slammed with a sledgehammer. She thought of him carrying grief like a second skin and it terrified her how much she wanted him to have joy in his life. How desperately she wanted to see him smile without guilt shadowing it. Perhaps that was what stung the most.
Spud didn't get to decide what Boone could feel, and yet here she was, feeling the ache of it as if it were hers too.
Her fists clenched at her sides—not out of anger at Spud, but out of helplessness—because she wanted to protect Boone from the world, from its assumptions, and from anyone who dared say he couldn't have it all.
The conviction of it surprised her.
"You don't think people can feel both?" she asked.
"I couldn't, after my Louise died," he said quietly.
"She was my first and second wife. I couldn't get past the grief.
It took a decade before I could move on.
Then I accidentally married her cousin. Looking back, it was because she reminded me of Louise.
As soon as we figured out the connection, we annulled it.
I'm still looking for that next Louise."
Vivi blinked at him, letting the story settle like a slow inhale.
She couldn't stop thinking about what it must feel like to love someone so completely that even a decade of grief couldn't erase them.
To hold onto a memory, a person, and still leave room for hope—still leave room for a next chance, a next Louise—without turning bitter or broken.
Just patient in a way that made her eyes sting.
She thought about her own life and the walls she'd built so carefully. She felt a small, sharp stab of envy. That kind of love wasn't flashy or loud. It was quiet and stubborn in a relentless way that didn’t ask for attention, didn’t need to be seen—it just endured, long after everything else had started to fade.
Somehow it felt like the kind of thing worth waiting for.
Worth risking everything to recognize when it finally showed up.
"Why did you and Louise break up the first time?" she asked. "You don't have to answer if it's too personal."