She smiled, running a rag across the bar. “Georgie said it was an emergency. And besides, Serena was my favorite of your friends.”
“Hey!” Georgie shouted from across the diner, stuffing crumpled wrapping paper into a trash bag. I fought a laugh as she slung it over her shoulder and stormed over, features pinched in mock-anger. “I thoughtIwas your favorite, Ruth.”
“You were all my favorites, darlin’,” she replied with a wink.
I dropped my chin in my palm and traced a fingertip around the rim of the plastic wine glass. Half-eaten cake sat beside it—I’m onlyhuman, after all—a triple-tiered red velvet work of art Georgie must’ve procured from the bakery.
“What’s got you down in the dumps?” my mother asked. “This ain’t the Margaret from my breakfast table this mornin’.”
The stool beside me creaked as Georgie sat down. “It’s the guy Serena’s marrying.”
Right, that—not the guy that had somehow managed to sweep me off my feet and stomp on my heart in the span of twenty-four hours. I needed to stay on task.
“Do tell,” she replied, crossing her arms.
Georgie glanced at me before continuing. “It’s hard to explain. Heseemsnice, and clearly he takes care of Serena in his own way, but he… doesn’t appear to care about much other than himself.”
I swirled the dregs of my wine and cleared my throat. “Turns the charm on and off like a faucet,” I mumbled.
The remaining piece clicked into place. Snapping my attention up, my mother looked as if she’d come to the same conclusion. Her lips had pressed into a thin line, jaw tense, the color having drained ever so slightly from her cheeks. My stomach turned.
“What?” Georgie asked. “What am I missing?”
My mother wiped her hands on her apron and shook her head. “It’s not as confusing as it appears, Georgette. It seems Serena is marrying her very own Andrew Wade.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
On the edge of Port Camden, stationed on its very own platform above the water, Oyster & Oak shone in the night like a luxury lighthouse.
Georgie and I climbed from the rental car Serena left us to make the drive. I handed the valet the keys, ironing the front of my trusty little black dress with my palms. The attire was strictly cocktail—I wasn’t even sure if it was Serena’s request, or the restaurant’s—so I threw on my best nylons, a pair of Louboutins, and pulled my hair into a slicked-back ponytail. I’d been perfectly fine until we crossed into the city and drew closer to the rehearsal dinner.
Now, as I gripped my clutch and hovered in the porte-cochère, the only thing on my mind was a solid excuse and a swift trip home.
“You’ve been acting weird since last night,” Georgie hissed, voice low as she eyed a couple sashaying through the restaurant doors. She’d tamed her curls into ringlets and pulled half of them from her face. Her olive-green, tea length silky dresslooked far more designer than it did thrift-store. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Or are we back to not talking about real things?”
I rubbed my temples. No amount of ibuprofen could rid me of the headache I was nursing since the evening prior.
Another particularly elegant couple brushed by, leaving us to choke on a cloud of cologne and perfume. I groaned and grabbed Georgie’s wrist, pulling her to the side, partially hidden between two large boxwood plants.
“Teddy and I kissed the other day.”
She threw her hands up and nearly fell backwards, wobbling on her heels. “I’ll be mad about you not telling me until right this second,later. Now, I want to know why exactly this is a bad thing.”
“Because,” I replied, lowering my voice, “I found out why he’s really in Bluebell Cove. And it’s not some tourist puff piece—he’s been assigned to expose us. As if we’re a quaint, downtrodden, image-obsessed town.”
Okay, so I embellished a little. Some would’ve called it artistic license.
Georgie gasped, eyes wide. “Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like Teddy at all.”
My nod felt mechanical and disjointed.
“Wow,” she breathed, “What did he say?”
I pinched my eyebrows, waiting for a passing family to disappear through the doors. We caught several narrowed gazes as they did. Two women huddling in the bushes outside a high-end restaurant didn’t seem to be an everyday occurrence.
“I haven’t had the time,” I said. Only half a lie. “Between Serena yesterday, and now the rehearsal dinner—”
“Which he’ll be at,” Georgie interjected.
