As I sip on my pumpkin spice latte, I take a moment to really absorb the gravity of what I’m about to do, while Abby freaks out enough for both of us.
“Back up. You’re considering marrying your college ex to save a tree farm and your flooded studio? That’s not a plan—that’s a Hallmark movie in crisis.”
Her rounded eyes stare back at me over a pile of boxes, and I squint at her, worried this might finally be the news to take her out.
If only it came with the guaranteed happy ending, too.
“I didn’t say yes to his proposal…I just said he asked. I know it sounds wild. But we’ve done the math, and if we don’t do something drastic before Dec 15th, he loses the farm. Phoebe and I are about to be displaced, unless I go home to Enchanted Hollow. This is the only option that solves both problems.”
As her eye twitches, I lean forward and pull her pumpkin spice latte to me so she can’t reach it easily. The last thing she needs is more caffeine.
“I heard you. I’m just trying to figure out whether I’ve suffered a head injury and am not in my right mind, or if you’re losing yours.” She flaps her hands, cherry-red nails a blur. “What are you thinking? Chloe. I know I said he’s a lumberjack demigod.” She sucks in a deep breath, then blows it out. “But I didn’t mean you needed to marry the man.”
She pops up off the couch and paces the room, her steps growing quicker with each lap. She’s not quite at level ten on the panic scale yet, so for now I’m more irritated than anxious.
He dropped the idea without a plan, which means most of my questions last night went unanswered, which should be reason enough to say no. But I’m having a harder time with that than I thought.
After sleeping on it, I realize he probably didn’t even plan to approach me with it last night. We both were swept up in emotions and the past, and if he’d had more time, he’d probably have come in with a whole presentation.
Even with answers up in the air, his honesty meant more. I needed it more than I realized.
“Abby.”
She keeps talking to herself, her words a steady stream as she walks back and forth, waving her hands to emphasize every point.
“Abby,” I repeat, louder.
“What?” She freezes mid-step and turns to look at me. For a moment, I wonder if she’s in shock. Usually, she’d be teasing me, but this is a genuine freak-out.
“This isn’t real.” I tape a box closed one way, then swap to another. “It’stemporary... just for a year.”
I don’t know why I can’t just call it what it is:fake. Probably because I know how my heart feels when I look at him, and that’s not something I can pretend.
“How long-term? What do you mean?” She narrows her eyes and rushes back to the couch.
I set down the tape gun and drop beside her.
“A year,” I repeat. “I don’t want to hash out every detail right now. I don’t evenknowevery detail, but I wanted you to know so your brain doesn’t explode. It’s… business.”
The word feels like a sweater I put in the dryer instead of letting it air dry, and it pinches.
“Business?” She arches a brow. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
I shake my head. “Quit reading those crappy romance novels so you stop imposing your storylines on me. Andyes, it’s business. I can’t afford to lose everything I’ve built for us.”
“It’s not just the books. You forget I watch a ridiculous amount of reality television, too. And either way, Aiden is your literal and metaphorical knight in shining armor.”
“Reality TV is worse—it’s scripted,” I groan. “My life is not. Besides, I’ve done just fine without Aiden so far.”
On cue, my phone dings with an incoming message.
Daniel
Let me know when it will be convenient for you to let us come finalize the damage assessment upstairs.
I’m not trying to rush you, but the sooner the better.
Holidays take longer for shipping if we need things.
