“Do plenty of people change their legal name to their nickname right before moving out of the state?” His mom smirks, as though this is some kind of smoking gun. “And did you know about her sister?”
Townsend feels a surge of smug satisfaction. “Yes, as matter of fact, I did know. Are you trying to suggest that having a sister who got pregnant out of wedlock makes Talia unmarriable?”
At this, Mother’s smirk disappears. Apparently, her PI had failed to turn up this particular detail; he must have found some other bit of unsavory info about Talia’s sister that Mother hoped to use as ammo instead.
“That’s not—”
“Look,” he says, “you don’t have to give me Birdy’s ring, but I’m going to propose to Talia, whether I have your blessing or not.” It occurs to him, a moment too late, that he can’t possibly afford a decent ring on his own right now. But there’s no taking his words back.
Mother sniffs, her expression suddenly more hurt than annoyed. “It’s your funeral.”
That’s all he needs to hear. Pushing back from the table, Townsend stands. “I need some air.”
Out in the parking lot, Townsend paces, mind racing. Maybe he should have heard his mom out. What could be so damning that she’d try to prevent her only son from finally settling down, as she’d been begging him to do for the past decade? Was there even anything she could tell him that would change his mind about Talia? And did Talia really change her name?
He’s about to return inside—maybe try to convince Mother one more time to let him have Birdy’s ring—when the sound of shattering glass rings out like a shot. A deafening howl follows: a car alarm. No, not just a car alarm;hisalarm. Someone is breaking into his car, and he would bet anything that it’s Amanda.
As he’s weaving through cars, making his way toward his roadster, Townsend can think of little else; he’s already picturing the damage his beloved car may have incurred. That’s probably why he runs headlong into another body—though when he steps back to apologize, he doesn’t see some random country-club guest. He sees his girlfriend, who looks just as stunned to see him.
“Tal, what are you doing here?”
She furrows her brows, confused. “You told me you were having dinner with your mom here. I was waiting in the parking lot for you to be done.”
Townsend doesn’t remember making this plan, but his mind is too jumbled to question it. “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s my car alarm going off. And I’m pretty sure Amanda is responsible.”
Together, they beeline for his car, which he can see—even from a distance—is fucked. Shards of glass decorate the pavement around what used to be his back window, which is now just a gaping void. “Jesus,” he mutters.
Talia points through the jagged opening. “What is that in there?”
“Probably whatever was lobbed through my fucking window.” Townsend is about to open the side door to investigate when Talia reaches right through the broken glass. “Tal, be careful.”
“I am.” When she straightens up, he sees that she now has a brick in hand. She holds it up to examine—impressively, she can hold it in one hand without her arm even shaking—which is when he notices something written on its surface in white paint.
Townsend takes the brick from Talia’s hand and holds it close enough to read in the dim light of the parking lot. “‘Thief,’” he reads.
“What does that mean?” He can hear in her voice that she’s reluctant—maybe even afraid—to hear the answer.
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. Is it possible Amanda knows that AutoInTune isn’t entirely his own creation? The thought unnerves Townsend; the last thing he needs is for Amanda to have more dirt. Looking up from the brick, he notices the trail of blood dripping from Talia’s elbow down to her wrist. “Are you okay, babe? You’re bleeding.”
“It’s okay.” Without even looking at her elbow, Talia wipes it on her shirt. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“Still, we should get that cleaned out.” He pulls out his phone. “I’m going to get my car towed, and then I’ll drive yours back to my place, okay?”
“What about your mom?”
“I’ll let her know I’m heading out. This is more important.”
Talia flashes a sweet, grateful smile, and Townsend feels relief over never having learned whatever Mother was trying to tell him earlier.
The Talia he knows and loves—his future wife!—is right here in front of him, and whatever happened before him doesn’t matter.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Talia
Another morning at Jo’s, waiting for her caffeine fix, another compulsory check of Instagram.
Kennedy J. Abbott, as usual, has posted a new Story (this time showing the heart-shaped pancakes prepared for her by her husband), and for once, Talia doesn’t feel that heavy thud of longing. She feels hope because—for the first time in what feels like a long time—the fairy tale that is Kennedy’s life feels attainable. Talia smiles down at her left hand, which grips the phone. That telltale finger is still bare—but it won’t be for long.
