She turns away from the crowd outside the glass doors of her new art studio to face me, a wild look in her eyes. “What the hell should I say? Thanks, Grandpa, for dying and leaving me money so I could fall in love with my best friend after marrying him and moving to Dogwood Cove and buy a studio space?”
This time I don’t bother holding back the loud laugh that escapes me. Thankfully, after a second or two, Cam joins in with a more subdued giggle of her own.
“I mean, you could say that, but it might raise some questions.”
“Or it would serve multiple purposes. People would stop asking about our wedding rings,andit would give Ethan the speech he thinks I need to make.”
I twist her wedding band around on her finger. A few days after her trip to Manitoba, she asked if we could go ring shopping. The simple white gold bands we chose might not look like much, but to me, it’s a true symbol of eternity.
The eternity I plan to spend loving this woman.
“I don’t know, I kind of like coming up with crazy stories about how we got married.”
Cam gives me one of her classic eye rolls. “Sure, except the rumours flying around are getting ridiculous. Everything from me being an American looking for free healthcare, to the baby we’re having, to my grandfather being a mob boss and you marrying me to get me away from him.”
I grin. “What can I say, small towns like to gossip.”
“Not this one,” she objects. “At least, not normally. I thought the worst gossip was Mrs. Henderson with her letters to her sister. But I swear to God, the last time I was atmycafé, I heard someone whisper that I was on the run. Running from what? I hate running.”
I snicker under my breath, both at her claiming Mila’s café as hers, even though it was named after Mila and Ethan’s mom long before my Cam moved to town, and at her objection to the very idea of running.
“I love you,” I say affectionately. “But you gotta let it go. Apparently, our being married is the biggest news the town has had since Wyatt Crawford moved to town.”
The revelation that the new adventure tourism company was run by a billionaire heir to a bookstore fortune was the last time the town was all abuzz. Now Wyatt’s fortune doesn’t raise any eyebrows, and the people of Dogwood Cove decided to fixate on my marriage instead.
What I haven’t told Cam is my suspicion that most of the ridiculous rumours have been started by my own fucking twin brother. There’s a wicked gleam in his eyes these days, and I see him hiding a smirk any time one of our family members mentions the next overblown piece of gossip.
The man needs a life.
Or a woman.
Something to set him straight.
As if my mind summoned him, an arm is suddenly slung over my shoulders. “Hey twinski, hey sister from another mister. Nice turnout, right?”
“Uh-huh,” Cam says, her hand still twitching in mine. Sawyer notices and gives her a toothy grin.
“Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”
“Shut up, Sawyer,” I growl under my breath but he ignores me, rotating around to stand in front of Cam. The rest of my family is somewhere in the background, putting the last-minute touches on the interior of the colourful space Cam created.
“You’re a fucking badass, Cam, and this studio is gonna be awesome. All you gotta do is go up there, thank everyone for coming, thank this dumbass for loving you, and me for being the brother youwishyou were married to, then you’re done.”
I stare at my twin, equal parts impressed at the pep talk and wanting to smack him for the second part of his comment. Thankfully, Cam beats me to it.
“You’re an idiot, Sawyer,” she says affectionately. “But a lovable one. Thanks, I’ll do two out of those three things.”
Lifting up on her toes, she presses a kiss to my lips before weaving her way to the front door of the studio. She pushes it open and a cheer goes up from the crowd. With my family at my — and her — back, I stand there and watch the love of my life thank everyone for coming, and without any more fanfare, gesture inside.
“Let’s make some art.”
An hour later, some of the crowd has thinned out. Cam is in her element, teaching a group of high school-aged kids how the pottery wheel works. She’s grinning, they look as impressed as teenagers can be, and all I feel is a deep sense of contentment.
“Any idea what has Sawyer looking like he just saw a ghost?” Kat and Hunter amble up beside me, her comment drawing my attention reluctantly away from Cam and over to the front of the studio where, sure enough, Sawyer is staring out the window with a strange look of shock written on his face.
“Not a clue.”
“Weird. Okay, we’ve gotta go. Hunter’s on shift in a couple hours. Can you give Cam a hug from us? We don’t want to interrupt.”
