“I’m pretty sure he’s not,” Wren says with a smirk that says she knows what she’s talking about. “We’ll get to that, butfirst,”—she holds up her index finger—“Beaudefinitelyslept with your friend Indie.”
I gasp. “No way.”
“Mm-hmm. Pretty sure they spent whatever time she was in Wintervale together.”
Grinning, I take another sip of my coffee. “What else?”
“Reid has a crush on the new farmhand. His name is Harlan and from what I’ve heard, he’s annoyed by Reid’s general presence.”
I laugh and smile for the first time in days. “How long before Reid’s got Harlan under his spell?”
“If I know Reid, not that long.”
We both giggle as I grab a donut and take a bite, the sugar almost too sweet but also exactly what I need.
“Anything else?”
“Erika sold Mountain Side Salon and Spa. The new owner,”—she pauses—“some guy from New York City, will be here for the start of the new year.”
“What?” I ask, genuinely shocked. “Why would she do that?”
“I have no idea. The details are vague at best.” Wren shrugs. “He must have paid a lot for it though.”
Humming in agreement, I shove the rest of the donut in my mouth and chew. As friendly as she’s being, I know I can’t avoid my drama forever.
“And the fallout from my wedding?” I ask cautiously.
“Daddy paid some money to the Haneses to make them quit bitching.” My eyelids flutter closed because God knows how much I owe him for that. I startle when Wren’s hand grabs mine. “Don’t even think about it. Daddy was happy to do it.”
“Whatever it is, it’s a lot of money, Wren, and I don’t?—”
“And he doesn’t want it back, and I know that because he told me.” She huffs. “Besides, most of the peopleatyour wedding were business associatesnotfamily.”
She isn’t wrong. I hadn’t known a quarter of the people on the guest list and neither did Carter.
He just wasn’t bothered by it.
“Are they still here?”
“They all left the morning after the wedding for Bozeman.”
I blow out a breath that I feel like I’ve been holding since I ran down the aisle and lift my face toward the ceiling.
“I haven’t charged my phone.”
“I know.”
“I used Lake’s to call Oma and then I saw the article and…”
“I know.”
“I just couldn’t do it.”
“I know.”
There’s no judgment in her tone, and when I’m finally brave enough to look at her, there’s none on her face either.
“Why did I think I could marry him?” I whisper, and her expression softens before she climbs up the bed and tucks herself under the covers next to me as she leans back against the headboard.
