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“Yeah, he doesn’t see that,” Sutton says.

“He did tell you, though.” Nina’s voice is quiet, tentative.

I look at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he could’ve turned the job down and never told you. You’d probably be none the wiser.” She shrugs.

She’s right. Ansel didn’t have to tell me about the job. If he’d kept it to himself, I wouldn’t even have known about it. Probably never would have known he’d applied. Instead, he chose to tell me, knowing I might be upset with him.

“Maybe he figured out he did the wrong thing initially and was trying to make up for it by coming clean,” Emelia says.

I nod slowly. “I think you might be right. He deserves some credit for that, I guess.”

“Men are like dogs. You have to train them early, otherwise you’re stuck with their bad habits forever,” Sutton says.

The three of us laugh.

“I’m just joking, but you just have to tell Ansel where it’s at. Set the expectation and make it clear that you need him to live up to it.” She raises her wineglass and nods.

“Sounds like as good a plan as any,” Nina says.

“I think you’re right,” I say.

One thing I know about Ansel is that he’s a good man. Yes, I thought I had a good man in Caleb too, once upon a time. And I’ve allowed that past to dictate how I behaved with Ansel. But they’re different men, and I refuse to let what Caleb did sour me on the idea of love for the rest of my life. Ansel’s not perfect, but neither am I. He deserves another chance.

“Still, men do suck. No matter how well you train them,” Sutton says before knocking back more wine.

“Amen to that.” Nina holds out her wineglass to Sutton, and they clink them.

Emelia raises a tentative hand. “My man doesn’t suck.”

“All right, Elliott doesn’t suck—anymore,” Sutton concedes. “But that’s only because he met you and you trained him.”

Emelia chuckles and shakes her head at her future sister-in-law.

“So, what are you going to do?” Nina asks.

And that’s the question now…

FORTY-NINE

Collins

When I arrive home from work the following day, Ansel’s truck is parked in my driveway.

He texted me earlier, asking if we could talk after work, and I agreed, but I didn’t think he was coming by until later. He has the door code, and I see that he must have used it when I get out of my SUV and find his truck empty.

I look at the house and pray this conversation goes well. I just want to make my needs known and move past this. Fighting with Ansel feels unnatural.

When I enter the house, he’s not anywhere that I can see, but he calls, “In the kitchen.”

I walk in and see Ansel sitting in a chair at a table that wasn’t here when I left this morning. It’s a gorgeous walnut harvest table with matching wood chairs. I haven’t had a chance to look for a new kitchen table, but if I had, this is exactly what I would have chosen.

“What the—” I point at the table.

“Please… sit.” Ansel motions to the chair to the left of where he’s at the head of the table.

I sit and run my hand over the wood. “Did Hollis make this?”