Chapter 26 Sierra
Sierra
Summer swirls by in a wonderful blur of moving and organizing, settling into my new life in Orchard Cove, and wedding preparations.
The wedding will be simple, the way Mason and I both want it, but even the simplest weddings, as I learn, aren’t simple to plan.
It’s kind of become a full-time job in itself.
But I’m loving every minute of it.
I’ve already given up my apartment in Vancouver, because I don’t need it anymore. That chapter of my life is now closed, and I’m eager to write so many new ones with Mason.
We went back there a couple of times in July, so he could help me clear out the rest of my stuff and bring it over to Orchard Cove. We also visited his parents’ graves, and each time, he lingered just a little bit longer, speaking to them.
When I heard him tell his mom that he gave me her ring, and that he knew she’d love me, if she could, I cried like a baby.
When July turned to August, Mason told me to “brace myself” for the upcoming apple harvest season. He warned me that it would be busy. It’s the reason we planned to have the wedding so fast; before the end of August, when it’s time to start harvesting.
It was either that or get married after, and neither of us really wants to wait.
I don’t even know how I’ve found the time to train Mason’s staff to make smoothies. When he suggested we move some of my equipment into the bar so we could offer them on the menu, I was thrilled. The way Mason has welcomed me into his life, in every way, has been entirely gracious.
There are moments when I feel like I’ve been floating above the earth, too excited to quite come down. I even named a new smoothie on the menu “Walking on Sunshine.”
As the long summer days grow slightly shorter, I now live for the evenings when Mason comes home from the bar or the cider house as the sun goes down, to find me agonizing over flowers or fabric samples at the kitchen table.
He rubs my shoulders, pours me a drink, and we sit out on the back porch overlooking the orchard and the sea beyond, listening to music.
Sometimes we dance together, slow. Sometimes we talk about our day, and we make each other laugh so hard we cry. Sometimes Kaylie joins us in her pajamas, sneaking out of the cottage and trying to delay her bedtime, or Scar curls up at our feet.
Those are my favorite moments.
With him, just living.
Our happy nights, together, just before we go up to bed . . . and then we do.
Getting undressed in our room together.
Having the kind of deliciously carnal yet soul-deep sex that, before Mason, I’d only ever fantasized about.
But tonight isn’t one of those nights.
Because tonight, my best friend is throwing me a bachelorette party at the bar.
I’ve been drinking Sea Haven Raspberry Rosé sparkling cider interspersed with water, and I’m pleasantly buzzed, but no way am I getting too drunk to remember this.
The jukebox glows. The music is pumping. All my new lady friends have come out to celebrate with me. Mason’s sister couldn’t make it here for this, but she’s promised to be here for the wedding. And most importantly, Sophie has flown in for five whole days.
So have my parents—my mom and stepdad.
My sister is also here from Ontario. When Kim and her family piled out of their rented minivan after flying across the country for this—for me—I gave her the biggest hug ever, surprising her, I think.
And for the first time in my life, I truly believed her when she told me how happy she is for me.
Maybe because I’m truly happy for her, too, without bitterness or resentment or jealousy tainting it.
“My wild, beautiful sister,” she said to me, with admiration and tears in her eyes. “I’m so glad you’ve finally found your home, Si. Mason and Orchard Cove are lucky to have you.”
After that, I was a mess and needed to redo my makeup, which Kim helped me with.
Now, my adorable but rowdy nephews are at the orchard with Tommy, Kaylie, and my parents, while my sister gets cider-drunk with me. Her husband is with Mason and the boys at the bachelor party. They’re playing poker over at Evan’s place.
Or at least they were—until they walk right into the bar, just as Sophie and I are singing our hearts out to a high-energy Wham!
duet, on the actual karaoke system that Mason put in—in honor of his bride-to-be.
And, as he put it: Your undying love for singing along to songs you have no business singing.
Sophie has a way better voice than I do, so at least there’s that.
But music, for me, has never been about perfection. It’s about feeling it.
And I am definitely feeling the second verse of “The Edge of Heaven” as the men pile into the room. I meet Mason’s eyes across the bar, and my whole body lights up. I laugh and flub the lyrics, but recover. Sophie throws her arm around my shoulders as we sing, and it’s just like that night . . .
That very awkward, emotional, special night when Mason and I first met.
Only it’s so much better.
The guys all clap at our exuberant performance. Jace whistles.
And Mason just gazes at me, giving me that look he so often does. The one that says, I’m a fool. I can’t believe I almost lost you. I’ll never make that mistake again.
I grin and hand off my microphone to Trish.
Then I toss myself into my fiancé’s arms. “I can’t believe you’re crashing my bachelorette,” I say with a giant smile.
“I can’t believe you didn’t invite me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say with glee, “but there are no penises allowed at this party.”
“Really?” He kisses my neck and murmurs in my ear, “I thought this was a celebration. Same penis forever, right?”
I roll my eyes, but grin like a fool in love.
We kiss so passionately that our friends cheer, then start to groan.
“Get a room,” Layne calls out.
So, Mason winds his fingers through mine and tugs me toward the office.
“Uh, we’ll be right back!” I tell our guests as I hurry along behind him, my heart soaring.
He pulls me into the office, which I’m proud to say I’ve managed to tidy up and redecorate quite nicely for him. Kind of had to. More room for all the office sex.
He shuts the door and pushes me up against it, where we go at it.
“Mmm. This will never get old,” I pant. How many times has he pulled me in here to have his way with me now?
Many.
“I know. God. When can I get rid of all the dudes and get you naked?”
“Soon.” I giggle as he paws at my clothes. “I promise. But . . . guests. We should really behave ourselves . . .”
He groans and rearranges his cock in his jeans. “Fuck.” He runs his hands through his hair and draws back, trying to be good. “Sorry. I won’t keep you from the party too long.” He gives me a smile, and I melt.
I give him a hot, sweet kiss on the lips. “Worth it.”
“Mmm. I just wanted a moment alone, to tell you the good news.”
I gasp. “Tell me!”
He smiles, deep dimples flickering under his beard. “June has accepted our offer. Tommy convinced her to go into business with us.”
“Yes!” I throw myself at him again and he hugs me tight, burying his face in my neck. “Oh my god,” I gush, fighting back tears. “I’m so happy, Mason.”
“Me too, sweetheart.”
I draw back to look up into his face. “Mostly, I swear, I’m happy for you. This is all you ever wanted.”
He gazes into my eyes with so much love, it takes my breath away. “Not even close,” he murmurs. “But yes, Pier Seven is a part of everything I want. And now, it’s ours.”
“Ours and June’s,” I correct him.
He chuckles. “Yes. That’s what I meant.”
“Uh-huh. What the heck did Tommy say to her?”
Over the past few weeks, Mason and I have met with June, several times.
She definitely seems impressed that I came back to Orchard Cove.
That I’m putting down roots here with Mason, that we’re planning our wedding and even invited her to come.
And that we’re so damn set on wanting to partner with her, to contribute to the future of Orchard Cove together.
But there’s still that missing piece, and no matter how much ground we seem to gain with June, grumpy old Tommy, unfortunately, seems to hold that piece.
“I don’t know,” Mason says, and I deflate. “He wouldn’t tell me.”
“Ugh! That is so not what I wanted to hear. I want gossip!”
His eyebrow lifts. “You are from a small town.”
I smack his chest lightly.
“I did go by June’s to thank her, after my grandpa gave me the news,” he offers. “And she did say, ‘You and Sara will have nice kids together.’”
“Aww, June! She’s such a romantic,” I joke. “I love the way she pretends to forget my name when she’s irritated. Do you think he told her that he loves her, and now they’ll get married?”
“Uh, no.”
“Oh. Bummer.”
“But I guess whatever he said must’ve been enough? Maybe he finally apologized like she wanted him to.”
“A good apology can go a long way.” I smile, so he knows I mean the way he followed me to the city and apologized for letting me go.
“Whatever he said, though . . . I think it was about this.” Mason pulls out his phone and shows me a photo onscreen.
It’s in black and white. A young woman stretched out on the long, swooping bough of a twisted tree.
A tree that looks very much like the one on the secret path.
I touch the screen, spreading my fingers to enlarge the photo, zooming in on the woman’s face. She has long, straight, light-colored hair, and a sort of Mona Lisa smile.
“Is that . . . June?”
“Yup. Juniper Spencer, circa 1970-something, if I had to guess. I think what we’re looking at is the original twisted tree.”
“Really? No!” I don’t know why I’m so excited right now. But it feels like we’re peeking into a secret from the past.
“I just assumed Twisted Tree was named after that big plum tree by the gate that’s been there all my life. But those plum trees only live thirty years or so, max. Maybe forty. There must’ve been older trees there that died before the current ones grew.”
“Wow. Where did you get this photo?”
“That, Sierra, is the best part. I took a snapshot of this photo when I was in my grandpa’s living room today.” He tucks his phone away, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “It was in a frame. On his wall.”
“No.”
“Oh, yes. You and Layne were right that there’s something going on there. When I asked Grandpa about the photo, he grumbled at me and stomped out.”
“Oooh. Interesting . . .”
“All I know is that it wasn’t hanging there before. Like, two days ago when I was in there. I think whatever he said to June last night, if he apologized or whatever . . . she gave him that photo in response.”
“Oh, god. Can I please meddle? Pretty please?” I bounce on my toes, leaning on his chest. “I don’t really consider myself a meddler, but I need to meddle in this. How beautiful would it be if those two old grumps got over themselves and professed their undying love for one another?”
Mason groans. He wraps his arms around me and tucks me under his chin, kisses the top of my head.
“Maybe, for now, we leave well enough alone? They just started mending the fence. And we just got our agreement from June, in writing.”
I sigh. “Sensible.” I peer up at my man. “But it would be so fun, though. I just want everyone to be as happy as we are.”
Mason’s eyes sparkle and a beautiful warmth overtakes his face. “I know, babe. For now, let’s be happy for ourselves. We’re getting married in two days. We’ve got the rest of our lives to deal with family drama.”
“You know what?” I gush. “I kind of can’t wait.”
He laughs.
Then he presses me up against the desk. He hooks a finger under my chin and gazes at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
He kisses me, deep and slow, and when I moan in response, he starts sliding his hands up my skirt.
“You know what, Sierra?” he murmurs in my ear. “I can’t wait, either.”