Chapter 9
Two weeks later, just before nine on Monday morning, I’m sitting at our favorite corner table at Rooster’s with Natalie and a chai latte.
Despite my best efforts and repeated internal pep talks to myself, I’m feeling kind of droopy.
It’s hard not to be let down after such a rush of excitement declines.
Natalie has been doing searches on her phone, and I fight for patience as I watch. I’ve been holding on to my resolve not to search myself on social media and only look at posts and reels Natalie designates as safe.
A couple of times in the past weeks, I’ve given in to the impulse to look, but every time leads to such a sickening sense of exposure that I have no desire to repeat it.
So I leave the online work to Natalie and exist in a little bubble where no one is talking about me.
“Anything?” I ask when my patience has reached its end point.
Stew is standing against a wall nearby, keeping his eyes on the customers and any newcomers. He’s been with me for two weeks now, and he’s usually unobtrusive enough to fade into the background.
Natalie shakes her head, her eyes still focused on her phone and her lips downturned. “A few new things, but they’re not getting much attention.”
“I guess that makes sense”—I slouch against the back of my chair, sipping my latte—“since the inquiries and reservations have decreased so much. We always knew people would move on pretty quick.”
“Yeah.” Natalie sets down her phone. “I was hoping to sustain the interest for at least another month, but we’ve still done really good.
We’re booked out all through next year with weddings.
Even with the cancelations coming in, our wait list is long enough to fill in the gaps.
And it will be easier for you to not be forced to keep pretending with Wes. ”
When I don’t answer, she prompts, “Right?”
“Right. It hasn’t been that bad with Wes. But feeling like everyone is watching me all the time is… exhausting. I’m not made for it.”
“I’m not sure anyone is actually made for that kind of exposure. I would hate it. So it’s just as well. Right?”
I nod. “Right. I guess I’m relieved, really.”
“Are you?”
“Yeah.” I smile at her, my stomach still twisting with conflicted nerves. “Wes said he thinks—”
I cut off my words when the man himself appears beside our table. I didn’t even know he’d come in.
Natalie is facing the door. She should have told me.
Her covert smile tells me she failed to inform me on purpose.
Wes’s eyebrows arch high. “Wes said what?”
I swallow, trying not to reveal how excited I am as he pulls a chair from another table and sits down at ours. Trying to make my brain work, I say, “You said…”
I have no idea what I was going to say.
Wes has his normal black coffee, and he lets his laptop bag slide to the floor. “I guess that means you were talking bad about me.”
He doesn’t appear annoyed or offended. His eyes look like they’re laughing.
“I was not talking bad about you! We were talking about how the interest is dying down, and I was just saying you thought by the end of next year, we should be out of debt.”
“Oh yeah. It’s looking that way. Unless we have more than ten percent cancelations, we should be in good shape by the end of next year. It would be nice to get ahead, but we’re so much better off than we were last month. If this is the only boost we get, it still saved us. It’s a miracle.”
My brewing worries calm again at the confidence in his voice. “I think so too. But it feels so much like a miracle I’m half expecting it to be snatched away.”
Wes is meeting my eyes like he’s really hearing me, really caring about what I say. “I think it always feels that way when good things come out of the blue, but there’s no reason to expect it. Have we had a bunch more cancelations?” He turns toward Natalie with the question.
“No. I mean, there are definitely some, but we’re not even close to ten percent. And not everyone on the wait list was serious, I’m finding, but enough are that this year is still fully booked. We knew the interest would subside. It always does on social media.”
“Exactly.” Wes has turned back to me, and he reaches over to cover my hand on the table with his big, warm one. “We’ve done good. We can get out of debt, and we won’t have to sell the wildflower fields. Focus on that and not on your manufactured sense of responsibility.”
I feel better. A lot better. But because it needs doing, I roll my eyes at him. “What does my sense of responsibility have to do with this?”
“You’re sitting there stewing over the fact that you can’t hold the world’s attention forever even though that’s a nearly impossible task that even the biggest celebrities can’t manage.”
He’s somehow managed to identify and put into words the source of my churning.
Natalie snorts. “He’s right. No wonder you’ve been so jittery lately. It’s fine, Ella. We’ve done enough. And if you want to call this quits right now, everyone will be fully on board.” She looks toward Wes. “Right?”
“Right.” Since I’ve dropped my head, he gently lifts my chin so he can see my face. “You want to put an end to this right now?”
“We have the date planned on Wednesday.”
“We don’t have to go.”
“I was kind of looking forward to seeing the musical.”
He lets out a huff of amusement. “Then you can go with one of your sisters instead of me.”
I glance over at Natalie. She appears amused, as if she’s enjoying watching my interaction with Wes, but at my look she shrugs. “It’s fine with me. The Plan might have been a masterwork of genius, but there’s no reason we have to continue it if you’re ready to stop.”
After a brief internal debate, I make my decision. “Let’s go on the date Wednesday. Since it’s in DC, there will be a lot more people around to see us. If that doesn’t rekindle interest, we’ll call it.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Wes glances at his watch. “I guess I’ve got to work.”
“Yeah. Natalie and I are booked all day with tours and showings. They were getting so unwieldy that we decided to funnel them all into Mondays and Fridays so we’re not constantly meeting with potential clients. The first ones are at ten.”
“I guess that’s it then.” He takes another swallow of his coffee and then stands up, moving his mug to the table beside us. Then he pulls out his laptop and situates himself. “It sucks we still have to do everyday drudgery even under the thrall of The Plan.”
A laugh surprises me, which is obviously what he intended.
But I think about his words as I turn back to Natalie and finish my latte.
Maybe he was just teasing, but it sounded like he’s been enjoying pretending we’re falling in love as much as I have.