You Were Invited (Northgold Romance #1)

1. Chapter 1

one

A t the clink of glass and the crinkle-rustle of shopping bags, Annie Turner’s fingers froze over her keyboard.

Curious, she saved her work and crawled out of bed.

Her bare feet padded down the hall from the master bedroom.

Amid a pile of plastic bags, her boyfriend, Chris, stood in the kitchen as he unpacked his groceries.

Annie couldn’t help but chuckle. She smiled tiredly as she scanned the bags on the floor.

Her eyes picked over the chips, lettuce, and ground beef.

A dozen avocados balanced on the edge of the kitchen island.

Her body tensed, ready to dive and save the dark-skinned fruits if they toppled to the floor.

Chris extracted two large liquor bottles. His broad hands gripped their necks like dead fowl in a dog’s mouth. He dipped down and pulled out two more bottles from the pile of bags. She caught sight of a familiar swashbuckling pirate and a pair of palm trees.

Her smile died an instant death, the corners turning down in disgust for a microsecond.

She wrung the edge of her sweatshirt. “Was there a big sale?” she asked.

Stupid , she thought. He never does the weekly shopping.

God, I thought he was doing us a favor for once!

She watched him empty the last bag. Her eyes flitted over the counters, searching.

He forgot bread, dish soap, and the toothpaste!

Chris smoothed down his dark hair, which was stiffly gelled against his scalp. Three years before, he’d had well-toned arms. Lance Armstrong himself would’ve been jealous of his calves. Now, his belly pooched over the waist of his gym shorts, his ruddy-complexioned face round and puffy.

Her lip curled involuntarily. Did he hear me? Annie frowned and cleared her throat. “What’s with all this?”

“What? It’s for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Huh?” Chris turned and pulled his shoulders back. “Yeah... I told you, babe. About the birthday party.”

She blinked. When? He totally didn’t. “Another party? So soon? Birthday for who?”

“Sam.”

“Where…?”

“Here…?”

Annie blanched. “Here?”

“What’re you, a parrot?” He reached for a fifth bottle on the counter with a dark red foil cap. “Polly want a glass of wine?”

She blinked in disgust.

He raised a brow. “Don’t look at me like that. We need a night off.”

“I can’t. I’m still getting caught up with work.”

“Don’t be so fucking boring,” he said, throwing a smile her way, intending to be playful.

Annie wrinkled her nose.

Rolling his eyes, he added, “Take that stick out sometime.” He grinned. “Take it easy, babe. ”

She sighed. “Can we turn down the music? Please?”

Snatching up the empty bags, he shook his head and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. He motioned to the groceries with a petulant wave. “Put the chips in some bowls, will ya?”

Tension pulsated behind her eyes. He always wrangled her into party prep, but this time she couldn't bring herself to do it. She dreaded nothing more than yet another one of Christopher's wild house parties. It would be days before the nauseating scent of alcohol left the house.

Turning, she walked back to their bedroom.

Her gaze settled on the bed with its gray bedspread.

It triggered the same feeling she might have being handed a glass of lemonade after a spell under a blazing sun.

She fluffed her squashed support pillows.

The blankets felt so welcoming. So soft that she pressed her face into one of the pillows, rolled over, and curled her legs up to her chest. The urgency to write that had filled her a moment before was pushed away.

Her laptop screen displayed the draft of the centerfold article she owed “At the Root Level.” In three weeks, thousands of subscribers would get the newest edition of the gardening magazine.

She was excited to flip through pages of stunning photographs, and admire the delicate watercolor illustrations.

Her best friends, Molly and Peter, were counting down the days, too.

Churning out one stellar article after another brought with it an effervescent pride, which she rode like a wave days after submittal.

Her boss, Leonard Princely, sprinted through edits like he was gulping down water.

They’d only met face-to-face twice over video call, and both times it had felt like flying stupid close to the sun.

Working for him was her crowning achievement.

But the sheer amount of work stacked on Annie’s plate made her queasy.

I’m so godawfully behind…

The extension Princely had granted while she’d been sick with the flu ran out in forty-eight hours. Not to mention that the tiniest factual mistake after printing would fill the magazine’s inbox with nasty emails.

With dread, she was coming to a dire conclusion: she wasn’t the workhorse she used to be. Something was… off.

“Babe!”

Oh. Annie sighed through her nose. He noticed the chips are still in their bags… She lifted her head, casting a groggy look over her shoulder.

Chris loomed over the bed. “Please help, babe?” He swung his hands in exasperation. “They’ll be here in, like, less than thirty minutes.”

Pain lanced through her skull. So soon? “Can I have a minute?”

"We don't have a minute!"

She shrank away.

“I really need an extra hand.” He rubbed her shoulder harder than necessary. Her nausea roiled, and his touch only intensified it. “You okay?”

“No,” she whispered, wincing and rolling over to face him. Hot tears welled behind her eyelids. A sob threatened to break free from her throat. The last thing she wanted was to cry in front of him. It made her feel weak and disgusted with herself. “I honestly don’t feel great.”

“Not great?” His touch softened, and when he sat on the bed, she drew back to accommodate him.

Even though she wanted to hide under the blankets, part of her was relieved he’d noticed her tears. Frequently, her feelings were met with little fanfare, though, deep down, she couldn’t stop hoping for even a shred of a reaction that might soothe her emotional bruises.

Chris tenderly stroked her short, blonde hair back from her cheek. “Life ain't all about work, y’know. We gotta enjoy it.”

“I can’t not work, Chris.”

He lowered his voice. “Also, you won’t keep any friends this way.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s that mean?”

Chris tilted his head to the side. “You never make time for anyone anymore.”

“I’ve got you… Molly... And Peter.”

“I never see you hang out with ‘em.”

“I see Molly plenty. Peter’s just as busy as me. W-why’s it even matter?” There would be no sitting together with the mess in her head after all. She knew he didn’t really care, so what did he want?

He held a hand over his heart. “I can’t be your everything, is all I’m saying. You need a world outside of me, too, and I need to be here for my friends.”

What was he on about? Frustration brewed in her veins. She swallowed it down, but it hurt to hear even the small hint of it in her voice. “What? But I’ve gotta deadli—”

“Yes, yes, I know. And all I’m saying is that we won’t be those people who get boring because our jobs are soul-sucking, and then we don’t have time for our friends, too.”

Bless your heart, that sounds like a “you” problem.

Christopher’s go-to solution for everything lately meant ditching out on their responsibilities.

He worked at a farm equipment dealership in Great Falls.

He’d called in “sick” the day before with a hangover.

Which had been laughable considering he’d avoided her like the plague while she’d had the flu.

They’d cuddled that morning, but the urge to work had robbed her of any sense of relaxation.

She’d worked in bed for perhaps ten minutes before he’d shooed her away, grumbling that her keyboard had sounded like “hammers on brick.”

“I think Molly misses you,” he said. “Did you see her post?”

“No.” She shook her head.

Her boyfriend grabbed her laptop and went to her best friend’s Facebook page. He scrolled past a dozen posts of Molly’s dog before he found a shared memory, a few days old.

Pointing, he quoted the post, “’Miss the old days when I could be carefree with my best friend!’”

It was a photo of Molly and Annie with a picnic blanket the summer between fifth and sixth grade. They’d made a plate of sandwiches. Molly’s mom had encouraged them to make funny faces; Molly was making a piggy face, while Annie had pushed her ears forward, fingers fanning out behind her head.

I have no time for social media . Lately, she’d seen little of her best friend, who’d very thoughtfully delivered some chicken noodle soup to their doorstep four days earlier. Molly understands . Annie pushed his guilt-trip away like an unfinished plate of too-rich food.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, but Eliza can’t host Sam’s birthday, so I volunteered. Sorry it’s last minute. Thought I told ya?”

Annie shook her head.

“Well, I’ll make sure you know next time. Bowls are in the dishwasher, right?”

“Sink.”

“You’ll wash ‘em while I pick up the bathroom? This place needs tidyin’ up.” He made a retching noise.

Neither of them would get what they wanted at this rate.

Friends were his entire world. And if she’d learned anything in her twenty-seven years of life, it was that someone’s demons would rally from the depths of their core when their world was challenged.

He wouldn’t leave her in peace, but she could have some semblance of it back if she gave in.

The fight drained out of her bones. She pasted a smile on her lips. It slotted all-too-easily into place. “Fine. I’ll come help you.”

“Great, love you,” Chris replied quickly and went back to the kitchen.

“Love ya, too...” she muttered, her voice dull as it left her lips.

While helping Chris, she struggled to hold her mask of politeness in place, but there had to be absolutely no way she was fooling Chris. Was he trivializing the blatant tension, or actually, utterly, and completely oblivious?