“That’s because he didn’t want you to feel bad for him while you were having the time of your life,” Willow said.
“Remember when he took a week off work to help you get Sweet Art ready and open for business?” Nora asked.
“Which reminds me.” Willow rearranged her plate so that she could rest her forearms on the lip of the table. “He learned about chocolate because of you. How many books has he read on the subject?”
“I don’t know. Several.”
“He didn’t read them because he has a passion for chocolate.”
“But he does have a passion for chocolate,” Britt argued.
“Why, though?” Willow asked. “Does chocolate seem like a common thing for a good-looking young guy to become passionate about?”
Britt felt duty-bound to play devil’s advocate. “Zander’s had girlfriends over the years!”
Both sisters’ faces told her they thought the comment was beneath her.
“Those relationships were very halfhearted,” Nora said. “Brief and few and far between.”
Britt groaned. “If all of this is true, then why did he leave Merryweather?”
“Because he lost hope that things were ever going to work out for the two of you,” Willow answered. “And he refused to watch you fall for any more men who weren’t him.”
“No,” Britt said.
“Yes,” her sisters replied in unison.
Willow and Nora glanced at each other. “Jinx!”
Britt had talked at length with Zander about his decision to travel. He’d told her that he wanted to expand his boundaries, see the world, make it on his own. Was it possible thatshehad been another of his motivating factors?
She needed time to mull over all of this and contemplate her history with him through this prism.
“Zander’s wonderful,” Nora said.
“Incredibly wonderful,” Willow agreed. “I think I can say that I speak for Corbin, Nora, John, Mom, Dad, Maddie, Hannah,Mia, and everyone else who loves you when I say that we’dreallylike for you to consider him as a boyfriend.”
Quiet descended.
“Keep in mind that he hasn’t asked to be my boyfriend,” Britt said. “If he does make a move, I have no idea how I should respond because I want to be smart about this.”
“It’s not easy to make a move on a person who doesn’t ever seem to need anyone,” Willow pointed out. “‘I’m fine’ could be your mantra, Britt.”
Britt rolled her eyes. “Move on to another topic, please. This one’s giving me hives, and I’d like to enjoy my poor, neglected salad.”
Humanely, Willow took it upon herself to ask Nora a question about her honeymoon plans.
Early in her life, Britt had learned that Willow’s mom had left Willow behind when Willow was a baby and that Nora’s mother had died young.
Unlike her sisters, no childhood tragedies had befallen Britt. Her mom and dad were married. They loved each other, and they loved her.
All three Bradford sisters called Kathleen, Britt’s biological mother, Mom. And for all intents and purposes, shewasmom to all of them. She’d married Garner Bradford when Willow was five and Nora three. However, she’d only given birth to Britt, a fact that never failed to stir guilt within Britt.
She’d always feared that Willow and Nora viewed her as the sister with all the advantages and all the luck. Privileged. Maybe even spoiled. Thus, for as long as she could remember, she’d understood that she—in all fairness—should never have troubles, never need anything, and never complain.
Once, when she was ten, she’d burned her inner wrist on the edge of a cake pan.
“That looks like it hurts,” her mom had said, enclosing Britt in her arms.
