Chapter 25
The following afternoon, we’re pulling into Blossom Park, chatting for just a moment with Roger at the front gate since there are a few cars behind us waiting to enter even though it’s a regular Monday afternoon.
I had an amazing weekend.
And I would have been thrilled with the past few days even if my marriage with Wes had been a normal one.
We had a leisurely morning, sleeping in and having sex again before we called down for breakfast. Wes had a lot more patience than last night, and he was able to take his time.
I, however, was every bit as enthusiastic and more vocally appreciative than I would’ve ever imagined myself to be.
(I will not call myself aggressive although I did push him over onto his back and climb on top of him at one point to get him to hurry up.)
The oddest thing is that I’m not embarrassed at the memory of my lack of inhibitions. Wes seemed to love it, and recalling it now makes me hot all over again.
When he parks, he turns to look at me in that way he’s done before—like he has something to say before we get out of the car and return to our regular lives.
“So.”
“So…” I wait, my pulse intensifying. When he doesn’t continue, I say, “If you’re going to say something horrible like it was fun but we’re back to being smart and at arm’s length now, just get it said so I can be mad at you in peace.”
He chuckles, obviously taken by surprise. “I wasn’t going to say that.”
“Oh. Good.”
“I was just going to check in. Make sure you’re good with how things are going.”
“I see.” I have to hide a fatuous smile. “I’m good with how things are going.”
“Good.”
“Are you good too?”
“I’m good too.”
“Good.”
He glances down and then back up at me again in a quick flick of his eyes. “Good.”
“Can we stop saying good now?”
“Probably wise.”
We’re both laughing a little as we get out of the car.
We don’t spend the night together. I’m glad Wes doesn’t ask about it because it would make me too self-conscious in front of the eyes of our families. We don’t even act different from normal as we unpack in our respective cottages, decompress, and pass out all the gifts we bought.
Wes has to work for the rest of the week before we leave Friday afternoon for our honeymoon, and there’s a ton of Blossom Park stuff I need to take care of in the next few days. So even though my first thought after settling in is to go find him and see what he’s doing, I resist the impulse.
We might be married, but our relationship is comparable to an early-dating stage.
I’m not going to get too clingy and needy and scare him away.
It’s a good day overall, and it’s even better when, after I eat a casual dinner of chili and cornbread in the living room with Audrey and Natalie, my phone chimes with a text.
How’s it going? It’s Wes.
With a jolt of excitement so strong I fumble my phone, I reply, Good. Eating chili.
Yum.
Everything okay?
Yes. Just felt weird not checking in with you. Gotta do my husbandly duties.
Your husbandly duties have been performed admirably. I follow that with a laughing emoji to make sure it’s clear I’m not being serious. (Even though I am.)
Good.
Good.
Are we really doing this again?
No. Another laughing emoji.
Have a good night.
You too.
I’m flushed and smiling as I look back up and realize my sisters are both giving me amused pointed looks. “What?”
“Things are going well with Wes then?” Audrey asks.
“Shut up.”
“It was an innocent question.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was a fishing expedition.”
Natalie has been listening with interest. “So you’re really not going to tell us what’s going on?”
“I’m not sure what to say.” Because I’m generally honest with my sisters, I don’t want to lie. But things are too new to have a clear answer. “We had a good time. We’re getting along well. But it’s early days and a weird situation. I’m not sure what it all means.”
“Okay,” Audrey says, reaching over to tap my arm, which is her version of an affectionate gesture. “We won’t tease you.”
“Too much,” Natalie adds. “Only when absolutely necessary.”
I wake up the next day excited.
About Blossom Park’s turn of fortune. About seeing Wes.
About the day.
I go to Rooster’s to hang out with Natalie for a while and discuss next year’s schedule and some more publicity opportunities that have come in since the wedding. I hope I might see Wes since he often works here for a couple of hours in the mornings, but he doesn’t make an appearance.
By ten, I’m getting jittery, so I send him a photo of all the wedding gifts and swag that have been sent in the past couple of days. There are so many they fill an entire small office in the admin building.
He gives the photo an exclamation point instead of a reply. I wait, but the three dots disappear almost immediately and no other reply comes in.
It’s a little disappointing, so I have to give myself a long internal lecture about reading into details and assuming a guy thinks and responds exactly like I might.
He’s missed two days of work, and he’s taking all next week off as well. He must be swamped with everything he needs to do today.
He doesn’t have time for trivial texting.
When I’ve convinced myself of all these realities, I’m able to stay busy for the rest of the day without stressing too much.
But every time I glance at my phone and there’s no message from Wes, I get a little nervous.
He’s never struck me as one of those guys who play games, making the woman do all the initiation. Even though he’s busy, if he wanted to reach out, he would.
So as hour after hour passes, it’s increasingly clear that he doesn’t want to.
After dinner, I’m distracting myself by scheduling out posts with photos of the wedding on the Blossom Park accounts.
It’s not technically my job, but it’s a useful activity that will help Natalie and the part-time social media person she hired.
If they don’t like my captions, they can go in and edit them.
At least it gives me something to do.
“What’s the matter, Ella?” Audrey asks, coming into the living area from the kitchen, where she was fixing herself a mug of hibiscus tea. She’s been doing reading for her dissertation most of the day.
“Nothing. What do you mean?”
“I mean you were happy yesterday and this morning, and now you’re stewing with some sort of anxiety.”
“I haven’t said a word!”
“You don’t have to say it. I can see it. Is something going on with Wes?”
I sigh and set my iPad on the couch beside me. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him all day or seen him around.”
“So text him.”
“I did. At ten this morning. He just exclamation-pointed it and hasn’t said a word since.”
She frowns and sits down in the chair beside me. “Hmm. That is kind of odd for him.”
“I think so. He’s usually more… responsive.”
Audrey’s lips twitch briefly, and I know why.
We’ve both read romantic scenes where that word was used in an entirely different context.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. Just text him again.”
“I don’t want to be pushy or clingy.”
“I don’t think one more text would be that. What did he say when he texted you after dinner yesterday?”
“He just asked how my day went.”
“See, that’s perfect. Ask him something similar. He should be done with work by now or at least close to wrapping up. If he doesn’t respond to that, we’ll know. Maybe he thought the exclamation point was a good reply.”
I snort at that, but I know she’s right, so I tap out a quick text to Wes before I talk myself out of it. How’s your day been going?
I wait. And keep waiting. And wait some more.
Nothing.
“Shit,” I say.
“Don’t overreact.”
“I know. But isn’t your advice always not to make up stories about a guy’s secret feelings? If they’re really interested, they don’t ignore you.”
Audrey leans back against the chair and sips her tea. “Yeah. I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Why doesn’t it make sense?”
“Because there’s no way in the world that Wes is going to ignore you.”
Her words give me a flutter of excitement and then a wash of cold fear.
Because she’s right. Wes has never ignored me when I make any sort of advance—not since we were in school and he was evidently recovering from that embarrassing debacle on the hayride.
Maybe it’s not about me.
Maybe something’s wrong.
I get up and slip on the rubber slides I put on when I changed out of my dress and into comfortable lounge clothes. I don’t look great in the stretchy pants and oversized T-shirt, but I don’t care. I grab my phone.
“What are you doing?” Audrey asks.
“I’m going to see what’s going on.”
“I thought you didn’t want to be too pushy.”
“I don’t. But I’m never going to be able to sleep if I don’t find out what’s up. I’d rather embarrass myself than go on like this.”