Me:Affirmative.
“Well, shit,” I say, standing outside Tea of Fortune.
There’s a sign on the door that says it’s closed forfamily drama, which is a very Tina sign to write.
I guess it makes sense, given the whole Harry/Kennedy mess, but it puts a wrench in my plans. My gaze shoots to the building next door—the former Mayberry Matchmakers office, and I pull out my key ring.
I still have the key, and I’m reasonably sure my grandmother’s not planning on coming in today. The blinds are all drawn, and the matchmaking business, such as it was, doesn’t exist anymore. Since the interviews for Nana’s co-host already went down, there’s no reason for her to come into the office. She’d probably much rather stay home and scheme for other ways to mess with poor Harry.
“Waste not, want not,” I mutter. Then, realizing that I’m standing on the sidewalk and talking to myself, I shoot off a couple of texts, officially changing plans, and head inside.
There’s a weird twist in my stomach, seeing the changes. My desk is gone, and so is Bryn’s. The only one left is my grandmother’s, except it’s been swapped for a larger version, all heavy, dark wood—veryher. There are two chairs behind it, one noticeably lower—thanks to Rowan, I guess. There’s a new seating area where my desk and Bryn’s used to be—the furniture much more luxe than what we kept in ouroldseating area, and a new enclosure has been built into the back of the building. It’ll be a few minutes until anyone shows up, so I check it out and find what can only be an interview room, with two leather chairs facing each other and a faux fur ottoman in the middle.
So, this is really happening.
It feels weird, seeing the evidence of it. I mean, obviously I knew. I’ve heard the rumors, seen the posters. Hell, there’s even one plastered on a bus stop on Main Street. And, of course, there is the intractable evidence of Harry, but still… It’s different seeing it.
It leaves me with a weird ache to think this is where our family legacy has ended up—on reality TV. Of course, that’s not the only piece of our legacy.
There’s Matchmake Me.
I feel a little prick of guilt for not making more of an effort as a beta tester—it’s my fucking app, after all—but I…
I don’t want to right now.
Blame Hot Rod, if you will.
Blame…
“Never thought I’d come in here,” Cole says, shutting the door behind him.
Bless him, he listened to the other part of my message and brought us both coffees. He hands mine over, our fingers brushing, and even that simple contact makes me hot for him.
“Your luck had to run out sometime,” I say, taking a sip and nodding to the new, expensive-looking furniture. If we get coffee on it, all the better. It’s Nana’s fault for not changing the key. Or, let’s be honest, for not getting Rowan to do it.
He walks with me, but I catch the sidelong look he’s giving me. Ifeelit, shivering through me and settling in deep.
Still, I don’t say anything about last night, and neither does he. We sit on the couch, and even though he’s close enough, the space between us feels like a cavern full of things left unsaid. I want to span that distance, or maybe put my feet in his lap, but I have no idea how he’d react. Usually, that wouldn’t stop me. Usually, I’m the kind of person who does what I feel like doing because fuck it. But it’s different with him.
I settle for sipping my coffee.
“You found out who Deacon is?” he prompts, and if I’m disappointed, I see no reason to advertise it.
“I did,” I say. “If there were throw pillows, I’d toss one at you.”
“What’d I do this time?” he says, his lips tipping up a little.
“You didn’t even Google the guy, did you? ‘Deacon’ and ‘beer’? ‘Deacon’ and ‘the Labelles’? It seriously took me less than five minutes last night. I was disappointed. I put my spy music on and everything.”
He inches toward me, and my whole body aches to do the same. I don’t.
“Who is he?”
“I feel like we need dramatic music. Where’s my grandmother when you need her?”
“Holly.”
“He’s Simone Labelle’s husband,” I say, putting a hand on his thigh, both because I want to and because it’s big news and he might need some bolstering. “I heard she was getting hitched again after her engagement fell through last year, but I guess she must have speed-walked to the altar, because they’re already married. And get this. The dude’s part of the family that owns Bev Corp. LiketheBev Corp. conglomerate. They bought a brewery down in Asheville a few years ago, and I’m guessing they want yours next. The Labelles are playing you.”
