Page 86

“Oh uh,” Ali blinked. “It’s okay.”

She hadn’t thought much of it since, remembering the horrified look on Lilah’s face once she realized Ali was in fact alone.

“No it isn’t.” Lilah’s hands moved to cup her cheeks. “I made you uncomfortable. I never meant for that to happen.” She peered up, gaze full of sincerity. “You make Charlotte so happy. I wanted to make you feel welcome.”

The small bucket of affection she carried for Lilah overflowed. “Thank you,” she said, pulling Lilah’s hands away from her face. “I knew you were just trying to get to know me. But thank you for apologizing. I know those aren’t always easy.”

Lilah squeezed her hands, looking rather relieved. Not quite sure what to do next, Lilah flung her arms around Ali, giving her a crushing hug. “Thank you for being understanding.”

Ali returned the hug, feeling the seeds of affection taking root.

“What are holidays like in the Carter-Davenport household anyway?” Ali asked as they pulled apart.

“You’ll see!” Lilah smiled as they made their way up the stairs. “Mama cooks up a storm. Charlotte bakes all the cookies. Lizzie and I handle the decorations. It’s chaos and magic all at once.” She glanced over her shoulder, smile widening into a grin. “Just wait. You’re going to love it.”

Ali considered for a moment and smiled to herself despite the nagging wonder if she would even be here.

22

CHARLOTTE

The farmhouse kitchen always seemed thrilled to have someone cook in it. Once James realized how homesick Diana got for the country he found and renovated the old bones. Morning light streamed through the window over the deep sink, spreading over butcher block counters to spill over onto refinished oak leading toward the mudroom. Flannels hung in a row down a line of hooks above dirty riding boots. A lead rope hung forgotten from where Lizzie absentmindedly left it.

Beyond the window, Charlotte could see the horses mosey their way out into the fields, a gentle chorus of whickers and whinnies as they shook off their sleep, satisfied from the breakfast Charlotte doled out to each of them earlier, giving their usual stable hands the morning off.

Pancake batter puddled in the old cast iron skillet, the scent of butter melted into the air on a sizzle. Bubbles formed just under the surface. Wait for it, her mother’s voice murmured from thirty years ago. Mornings were her time with their mother growing up. A time when all her attention was on Charlotte.

For as long as Charlotte could recall, being an early riser was how she met each new day. Lizzie on the other hand, preferred sleeping in. Residency hours had only cemented that habit. She slept when she could. Charlotte’s life was structured and there were only two things that kept her up past her usual bedtime. A good book and… good sex.

An image of Ali curled up beneath Charlotte’s covers slipped forward. Even in her mind, she drank in the memory of smooth curves. Nipples pebbled in the cool air of her bedroom, the marks she left behind peppered among her freckles. Charlotte’s mouth watered at the memory of their night. Good was an understatement.

The connection between them was so electric, magnetic… it stole all sense from her and consumed the mind. She’d been able to think of little else, even out on the farm so far away from everything.

“Pancakes?” Lizzie’s sleep-rough voice sounded. Lime-green fuzzy socks carried her across the wood floor.

Charlotte startled and caught the faint scorch in the air, attention snapping back to the pancakes.

“Shit,” she swore, flipping each one with rapid-practiced precision.

“You burnin’ breakfast?” Lizzie peered over her shoulder, a sleepy smile curled in her tone.

“Not intentionally,” Charlotte grumbled, moving to the fridge to grab the eggs.

“Something on your mind?”

Charlotte sighed, cracking an egg into a small bowl. “Just⁠—”

She hadn’t caught Lizzie up in weeks. She’d been too busy and this getaway was meant to give Lizzie a moment to recenter and breathe before the wedding events accelerated. If she knew one thing about her twin, she loved gossip.

“Ali and I had sex.”

“Oh?” Lizzie’s voice took on a sly tone as she loaded the coffee maker. “That explains why you seem more relaxed. Good, I assume?”

Charlotte sighed, sweeping her hair into a messy bun, the room feeling hotter somehow. “Better than good.”

“Tell me everything!”

“No!”