Now I was the bad guy?
Fuck that.
I was dead-fucking tired, battling the fear that this barn venture was a huge waste of time and money, and I had another six or seven hours of work ahead of me yet tonight. I couldn’t let my outrage derail me, not with two days left to finish tree season strong, to get the barn heated, to make sure every detail was ready for West and Presley’s wedding, and to somehow find the will to celebrate the holiday with my family.
I wasn’t feeling any damn holly-jolliness at the moment. Tomorrow wasn’t looking good either.
On the bright side, I would not be visiting Magnolia tonight, so maybe I’d be able to catch up on sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Magnolia
I was a hot mess as I drove off from Luke’s.
While my dramatic exit had been fueled by anger, I actually did need to get to Presley’s house to work on the guest favors. I had to hold it together for a few more hours before I could go home and collapse and give in to my stormy feelings.
In the meantime, I tried to drown out my thoughts with loud music. It was enough to get me the ten minutes from the farm to Presley’s. I parked in her driveway behind Chloe’s car, climbed out, slammed my door, and sucked in the crisp, cold lake air, trying to get a grip.
The sun had set while I was at the barn, even though it was barely after five. The evening was cloudy, but the briskness in my lungs made me believe I could forge through the next few hours of wedding prep without losing it.
Presley let me in and hugged me, which I kept short and surface level because if I sank into her comfort, I knew the tears would come.
“Hey, Mags,” Chloe said from the farm-style kitchen table where the favors would be assembled. Her smile faded as she looked closer at me, so I made my smile brighter.
“Hey, ladies,” I sang out. “Let’s get this tree factory going.”
The favors were one-year-old evergreen saplings from Luke’s farm, potted in a little silver bucket. Tonight we were wrapping the buckets in cellophane, tying them with raffia and a tiny pinecone, and adding stickers, one that said Let Love Grow and had the bride and groom’s names and the date, and one on the back that had planting and care instructions for the spruce tree.
“You just sapped the romance right out of the favors,” Chloe joked.
“I see what you did there, punny lady,” Presley said. “Would you like a drink, Magnolia? I’ve got wine, seltzer, beer, water, lemonade, or soda.”
“Just lemonade,” I said, eying her wineglass and Chloe’s water. “Alcohol would knock me out at this point.”
“You look exhausted.” Chloe was eying me again. “Is everything okay?”
Presley came up to the table with my drink, scrutinizing me as she set it down. “Magnolia?”
That was all it took. I crumpled into tears that quickly evolved into blubbering. I would have been mortified if I had any energy left for it, but I didn’t.
“Sweetie.” Presley pulled me into another hug, and just like I’d feared, that made me lose it further.
All I could do was hold on and let my body try to purge the emotions that had taken over.
“Hey,” Chloe said, coming up to us and putting her arms around both of us. “What’s going on?”
I couldn’t speak if I wanted to. Not yet. They seemed to understand, and we just stood there in a group hug, with me soaking them with my tears.
When I could finally get it out, I said, “I’m so sorry. This is the happiest time of your life, and I didn’t want to do this.”
Presley grabbed my shoulders and forced eye contact. “Stop that. Welcome to life. Nothing is all joy all the time. What happened? Did your mom do something? Did you and Luke fight?”
“Yes to both,” I said and collapsed into sobs again. “These are angry sobs,” I insisted, because dammit, I was so flipping angry. And hurt. And frustrated that I couldn’t just shove everything in a box for three days and deal with it later.
“Let’s go sit by the fireplace and talk,” Presley said.
“We need to do trees.” I used the cocktail napkin she’d put under my drink to blow my nose.
