She grabbed her clutch and fled the ballroom, heels clicking wildly against marble, vision blurring with tears. Behind her, the whispers bloomed.
“Poor Rachel.”
“Can you imagine? In front of everyone?”
“She should’ve seen it coming.”
“They were never really suited…”
She stood outside the ballroom, frozen, unable to breathe, drowning in pity and curiosity and judgment. Poor Rachel. The safe one. The quiet one. The girl who wasn’t exciting enough to keep her fiancé.
Sarah was the first to find her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Then people started moving toward her, drawn by spectacle. It wasterrifying. Leah appeared next, sharp and fierce, telling everyone to back off, to give Rachel space.
Rachel cried in the ladies’ room for an hour while Sarah held her hand, brought her water and tissues, whispered that Brad was an idiot. That Rachel was better off. That it wasn’t her fault.
But the words had already taken root.
Safe.
Quiet.
Predictable.
Boring.
And the next day, she'd had to face everyone; The pity, the questions, the whispers that followed her everywhere. "That's the girl who got dumped at her own engagement party." "Brad Reese's ex-fiancée." "Little Rachel, she never saw it coming."
For six months, she'd endured it. Six months of being "poor Rachel" everywhere she went. Six months of pitying looks at the grocery store, awkward silences at the coffee shop, well-meaning friends trying to set her up with their cousins. Six months of living in a town where everyone knew her story, where she couldn't escape the humiliation.
That's when she'd seen the job posting for Evergreen Cove Library. A small town four hours away where nobody knew her name, nobody knew her story, nobody would look at her with pity or curiosity or judgment.
She'd applied that night. Accepted the job two weeks later. Packed her life into boxes and moved without looking back.
Rachel blinked, finding herself gripping a biography of Theodore Roosevelt hard enough to wrinkle the dust jacket. She carefully smoothed it and returned it to the shelf with shaking hands.
That was all one year ago. Now she'd created a safe, predictable routine that couldn't hurt her. Library by day, booksand her cat by night. No dating and no risks. But safe and predictable also meant lonely.
And Mac MacKenzie, with his too-many flowers and genuine smile, was offering something different. Something that scared her down to her bones.
Rachel made a mental note to bring this up with Dr. Reyes at their next session. Her new therapist in Evergreen had been gently pushing her to be open to new relationships for months now. "Not everyone is Brad," Dr. Reyes always said. "But you won't know that until you let someone prove it."
Maybe this was her chance to find out.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, making her jump. She pulled it out to find a text from Sophie Parker.
Sophie:Heard you have a date tomorrow. FINALLY.
Rachel couldn't help but smile even as anxiety twisted in her stomach.
Rachel:How does everyone know already?
Sophie:Small town. Ellie called me. Mac called Cole. Cole told Ellie. Ellie told me. Also Mrs. Henderson texted me from the library about thirty seconds ago.
Rachel:Of course she did.
Sophie:She used three exclamation points and a heart emoji. Mrs. Henderson learned emojis for this.
Rachel:I'm never going to hear the end of this.
