“Yeah,” I breathe.
“Why don’t we put a movie on,” he suggests, flipping through the options on the TVs in front of us. We settle on some beachy rom-com.
“I think he’s living out your dream,” I say when one of the main characters owns a beach house that he rents out.
“Forgot I told you about that,” Wes mumbles, embarrassed. “Though that’s a little small-scale. I don’t want an Airbnb; I want an actual B and B that I can run.”
“So like Lorelai fromGilmore Girls?”
“I don’t know who that is, but sure, like her,” he says.
“So do you have any ideas for where this bed-and-breakfast will be?”
“I do.” He waits a moment before deciding to reveal more. He takes his phone out and goes into his photos. He pulls up a photo of his family’s beach house in Nantucket. I’ve never been there but I’ve seen it on his Instagram.
“Your family’s house?” I ask, confused.
“My dad wants to sell it; we don’t use it enough. Ever since the night we talked about it I’ve been working on a business proposal to present to my dad to turn it into a hotel.”
“Wow.” I look back up at him, and I can see in his eyes that he’s excited about this idea, and it makes me excited for him. “That sounds perfect for you, Wes.”
“Yeah, Marissa hates the idea. She’s already looking at houses for us to move to Colorado.” He puts his phone away and goes back to the movie. I want to say that she’s insane considering they’ve been together for less than a year. Bold of her to assume they’d be moving to a new state together after college. But Wesand I have been a couple for, well, never and I would move anywhere with him if he asked.
“Well, if my opinion matters at all, I think you should go for the beach house, if that’s what you want.”
“Your opinion always matters, Sloane.”
Asher catches up to me at baggage claim after our flight and throws an arm around my shoulder. I resist the urge to shake him off, because that is not what we practiced.
“That sounds perfect for you, Wes.” He mocks my voice in my ear with a laugh. “You really sold it, Sawyer. I could kiss you right now.” My breath catches in my throat again at the thought of another kiss.
“I didn’t sell anything,” I say to him. “I meant what I said.”
“Even better.”
“Did I tell you I messaged Graham to—”
“No, no, no,” he cuts me off. “We are on vacation this weekend. No talk of murder.”
“That’s another thing: Doesn’t it feel wrong that we’re just putting a pause on the whole thing? We should be home stalking Miles or Adrienne or even Marissa, because she’s still on my list.”
He stops walking and stands in front of me, whispering, “Sloane, everything will be okay for a weekend. We have proof that Miles isn’t going after Graham until after the holidays. Just enjoy this trip.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Then use the money you saved up to buy yourself a plane ticket home. But good luck with your flight anxiety. They don’t give youfree champagne in economy.” Asher pats my cheek before walking away.
The McCaverns send a driver to pick us all up from the airport. I don’t say much on the thirty-five-minute drive to their grandparents’ house, feeling tired from the champagne and long day of travel. Just this morning I was turning in my final draft to Renner and now I’m in Colorado. It doesn’t even feel like the same day. As we pull up to the house the group gathers by the van windows to marvel at the home, oohing and aahing. I’m inclined to join them when we step out in front of the stunning three-story stone structure. Surrounded by snowcapped pine trees, the home exudes a warm glow of light from the large picture windows all around it. It’s like we stepped out of Pembroke and into a Hallmark Christmas movie.
Wesley’s mom greets us at the door, with a warm smile and eight cups of hot chocolate on a tray. She’s a petite woman with long dark hair pulled back in a clip and deep brown eyes with laugh lines at their corners. She looks like she gives a good hug. And she does, as she pulls each of us in for one as a greeting.
“I’m sure you’re all so tired from traveling. Wes, why don’t you show everyone to their rooms? It’s late so I’m about to head back to the resort with your father but you guys have a good night and I’ll see you in the morning. Oh, and try to keep it down—your grandfather is already in bed.”
“Got it. Good night, Mom.” Wes gives his mom a kiss on the cheek, and I watch Asher as he turns away to walk toward the stairs. This is his family home too, after all; he doesn’t need to be shown around.
We walk through the rest of the kitchen, which leads out to a grand living room area with plush leather couches, draped with fur blankets arranged before a tall stone fireplace. In the corner is a Christmas tree that almost touches the top of the high ceilings. It’s a marvel in itself and I’m wondering how they even got this thing in here, let alone decorated it.
“This is the living room,” Wes says as we walk through it. “Through that door is the dining room.” He points to the right where there’s an opening off the kitchen. “Down that hall is my grandfather’s bedroom, the sauna, the study, and the door to get to the back patio.” We start up the wide set of stairs that leads to the second floor. “Our rooms are all up here. There are five rooms, so a few of us will have to double up.”
