"What if this is a mistake?" Rachel asked before she could stop herself.
"Then it's a mistake, dear. But what if it's not?" She picked up her books, then paused. "I don't know what happened before you came to Evergreen, Rachel. And I won't pry, that's your story to tell or not tell as you choose. But I do know this: you can't let your past stop you from having a future. Give yourself permission to find out what might happen. You've been hiding in this library for six months. Maybe it's time to take a chance."
The afternoon dragged. Rachel tried to focus on her job, cataloging new arrivals, helping patrons find books, answering the endless stream of questions about printer codes and library card renewals, but her mind kept drifting to Mac.
"I'm very nice. Especially me. I'm very nice."
To the way he'd tripped over that chair and knocked down half the mystery section, scrambling to pick up the books with his cheeks flaming red.
Rachel was shelving returns in the biography section, the quiet afternoon punctuated only by the soft sound of pages turning and the occasional creak of the old building settling, when a book spine caught her eye.
The Perfect Engagement: A Wedding Planner's Memoir
The cover showed a glossy photograph of a country clubterrace at sunset, fairy lights strung between marble columns, champagne glasses catching the golden light.
Rachel’s hands stilled on the cart as the memory hit her. Sharp and unwelcome, like always.
A year ago.
The Riverside Country Club back home in Burlington.
Brad’s family had made it clear from the beginning that she wasn’t quite good enough. Not wealthy enough. Not connected enough. Not from the right background. His mother had smiled through every criticism, gentle suggestions about dresses, about posture, about how things were done in their world. His father had barely acknowledged Rachel at all, as if ignoring her might make the mismatch disappear.
And Derek; Brad’s mentor, the man Brad admired more than his own father, had watched it all with that same knowing smirk. Rachel could still see him that night, leaning against the bar, arms crossed, saying nothing. Doing nothing. As if he’d known exactly how the evening would end.
Rachel shook her head now, but the memory rolled on anyway.
She’d stood in a white cocktail dress; not a wedding dress, just an engagement party, but she’d wanted to look special. The dress had cost more than she could afford, but Brad’s mother had insisted the party be formal. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, reflecting off champagne glasses. A string quartet played softly in the corner. Two hundred people, friends, family, Brad’s teammates, half the town, had gathered to celebrate their upcoming wedding.
Rachel had thought her life was absolutely perfect. Well almost.
Brad Reese, her fiancé. Minor league hockey player with dreams of the NHL. The man she thought she’d spend her life with.
When he stood to make a toast, Rachel had expected romance. Poetry. Something tender and public and reassuring. She smiled up at him, her hand resting on his arm.
“I want to thank everyone for being here tonight,” Brad began, his voice carrying easily across the room.
Then—
“Rachel, you’ve been… you’ve been really great. You have.” A pause. Too long. Wrong. “But I can’t do this.”
The smilefroze on her face.
“I can’t marry you. I’m sorry.” His tone was steady, almost casual, like he was announcing a change in dinner plans instead of ending their engagement. “This isn’t going to work. We’re not… compatible. You want different things from life. You’re more… quiet. And I need to move in a different direction.”
Quiet.
Rachel remembered the silence that followed—how complete it was, how it pressed against her ears. Phones came out. Someone gasped.
“Brad—” she whispered, barely audible. “What are you—”
He was already setting the microphone down. Already walking away from the head table.
From her.
Her white dress suddenly felt like a spotlight. Her skin burned as two hundred people stared. She could see Brad’s mother watching her with something like relief. His father turned away. Derek didn’t even look surprised. He just smirked, as if this had always been inevitable.
Rachel ran.
