Wren heard the coffee shop’s electronic “boo” and didn’t turn. Dane was here. Maybe she knew because ripples of baby fireworks danced up and down her spine, maybe it was because her heart stuttered and sighed. They’d yet to kiss, but her body knew he was around before the rest of her caught up. Somehow, she recognized him on a deeper, tougher,scarierlevel.
He approached their table, greeted everyone—except, obviously, the ghosts—and leaned his shoulder into the wall, an amused smile on his face. “Tarot reading, Wren?”
“Not my idea,” she muttered, not looking at him.
He craned his neck to look at the cards. “Mmm, Moon card … complications and confusion. Tower card, sudden change and awakening.”
Wren spun around and hooked her arm over the back of her chair. “Get that from an ex-girlfriend?” she snarkily asked, remembering how he’d picked up information about dance studios.
He smiled at her. “One of my colleagues does tarot-card readings as a hobby.” He nodded to the deck. “You need to pick another card.”
She glared at him, huffed, and refusing to look at the spread, tapped her finger randomly and pulled a card free. Reluctantly looking down, she saw two intertwined lovers looking back at her. Her eyes flew to meet Dane’s as a chorus ofoohsandaahsenveloped her.
“Such an interesting card,” Cilla cooed, sending Dane an appreciative look. “Especially since you chose it directly after he walked in.”
Seriously, she was at her limit. She needed to leave. Now. Wren pushed her chair back and looked at Luna. “She’s good. Hire her.”
Cilla threw up her hands. “But I haven’t finished your reading… The Lovers card signifies paths crossing, hearts colliding, cosmic timing?—”
Wren grabbed the hem of Dane’s T-shirt and tugged him off the wall. Without letting go, she led him through the tables and out into the sunshine. Even the “boo” as they left the shop sounded disappointed.
Wren pointed across the street to The Bar. “I know it’s only a little after three, but I need a drink.”
“Sweetheart, I think you need several.”
ChapterSeven
The following Tuesday, Wren walked into the empty studio and sighed. There was something special about being in a dance studio by yourself, she decided as she dropped her bag on a bench. She drifted over to the big window, set kitty-corner to the mirrored wall, and let her gaze drift down to the afternoon hustle of downtown H-Town. Blackweather Green was, as per usual, full of life.
At the edge, a fierce dominoes match was underway, and a little way along sat the Shade Brigade—three old ladies who’d occupied that same bench every afternoon for what had to be a decade, dispensing commentary and judgment with the confidence of women who had, between them, more than two centuries of life experience. A pair of shirtless teenagers lobbed a frisbee back and forth, desperately trying to look cool while a group of girls ogled them from their blanket under the big oak tree. Just like she and Poppy used to watch Hayes, Thom, and Benji. Watching Dane exercise in the park was the adult equivalent of that long ago experience.
Wren sighed. While she always enjoyed catching up with Thom and spending time with Hayes, she wished she’d had more one-on-one time with Dane on Friday night. It had been more of a “catch-up” than a “getting to know a new guy” session.
While they texted and spoke daily, sometimes many times, she’d also missed Poppy on Friday night, and needing to touch base with her best friend, Wren video called her. Poppy answered on the first ring. Wren took in her tired eyes and gaunt cheeks. Was her friend eating at all? And wasn’t planning a wedding supposed to be fun?
“What are you up to?” Poppy asked. Wren immediately heard the listlessness in her voice, and her anxiety levels shot up. Who had upset her this time? Her mother? Her future mother-in-law? Benji?
“I was just watching some teenage girls eying some boys in the park, trying to be super cool, and it reminded me of the way we fawned over Hayes and Thom back in the day,” she said.
Poppy was silent for a minute. “How are they? I mean, I know how Hayes is—I spoke to Hadley last night, and she couldn’t stop raving about dance practice, but how is?—”
She stopped mid-sentence, and Wren immediately sensed the guilt and hesitation behind her words. Thom was about to become her brother-in-law, yet he wasn’t speaking to his family—especially his brother. No one, not even Poppy, knew why.
Years ago, Benji’s older brother, Thom, had been Poppy’s protector, the person she ran to for reassurance. Then something had happened to cause Thom to drop out of Poppy’s life when they were seventeen. Poppy had no clue what, and they never spoke again.
Wren’s conversation with Thom the other night was the first they’d had in years, yet she still knew nothing of why he’d ghosted Poppy, the reason behind his and Benji’s estrangement, or why he’d been forced out as CEO at Sheffield Strategy, the business his father had established thirty-five years ago. Thom was still maintaining his position as a closed book.
“Bird, Hadley tells me you have an unusual dance pupil. And that he’s, I quote, ‘hot for an old guy.’”
Wren placed her palm on the window and smiled. “Did she also tell you that he has the rhythm of a marionette puppet on crack?”
Poppy’s bright laugh hit Wren square in the chest. In her sparkling eyes and that wide, unguarded smile, Wren saw the girl she’d known all her life, grown up with—quick to laugh and wild at heart.
Then Poppy squinted. “You’re looking a bit pensive, Bird. Do you need to chat?”
She and Poppy could always read each other like six-foot neon signs. But Wren knew she was pushed for time, and her class was starting soon. And yes, she was still recovering from Luna’s maniacal crowing and litany of told-you-so’s.
“Alex keeps messaging me,” she admitted. “He says he wants to talk to me.”
