“ARE you giving me the silent treatment?” I ask hesitantly. Pippa could talk to a brick wall, so the fact that she hasn’t said a word to me during this car ride is unnerving.
She grips both sides of her bakery van’s steering wheel, her stare focused directly ahead. I’m wondering if we’re going to spend the entire ride in silence when she finally makes a noise. Albeit, it’s a loud, dramatic sigh, but it is something.
“Maybe if you just start from the beginning I can understand. I’m not trying to give you the silent treatment, I’m just trying to figure out the relationship between the two of you.”
I let out a sarcastic laugh. “That makes two of us.”
Pippa looks at me from the corner of her eye. She hits a bump in the country road a little too quickly, making both of us bounce in our seats. “Oops,” she says under her breath. She slows down a bit, sitting straighter in her seat. “Look, I’m not the one to give relationship advice, my dating history is filled with mistake after mistake, and my type seems to be assholes with a side of commitment issues, but don’t you find it a little off that you can’t answer my question?”
“What happened with Chase at Slopes? The two of you looked cozy.”
Pippa gives me a look to tell me she knows I’m trying to divert the conversation. The raise of her dark eyebrows tells me she sees right through me, and she won’t fully let me get away with avoiding the looming conversation.
“He’s nice and fun, and we’ve flirted plenty of times before, and I want there to be chemistry because he might actually be a good guy, but there isn’t a spark. He might be too nice. Which makes me go back to my earlier point. For some reason my type is assholes.”
“You guys looked like you were into each other. Do you think that spark could happen over time?”
Pippa shakes her head. “I’ve tried. Trust me, I was really trying the other night. But I seemed to have more chemistry with some rich asshole I accidentally bumped into that night.”
“Rich asshole? Tell me more. Any possibilities there?”
She makes a fake gagging noise. “First, he screamed tourist, so absolutely not. Second, I meant it like I had more of a spark with some douche yelling at me more than I do with Chase. Neither is a good choice, obviously. The dude at the bar wasn’t the good kind of asshole that’s kind of hot. He was just a straight up dick.”
I nod because I don’t know what else to say. I get what she’s saying. There are many times I’ve tried liking guys I knew were good for me. You can’t force it, no matter how much you want to.
“Tell me more about this rich asshole,” I tease.
“I know what you’re trying to do.” She flicks the blinker to turn onto the main highway in Sutten. “You can’t avoid talking about what’s happening between you and Cade forever.”
“Just humor me with this last question.”
She sighs. “After you ran off, which I’m assuming now that I’m thinking about it had to do with my brother, I was still ready to party. I was having fun, despite everything that’s happened recently. So I bought the table a pitcher of beer, and on my way to bring it to the table, I accidentally ran into some guy who was wearing fucking slacks to Slopes. Like who does that?”
“Yeah, that’s unusual.” I laugh. Due to its touristy nature, most people go to Slopes dressed up in full country attire. The corny kind of country type of outfits that locals never actually wear. What isn’t typical in Slopes is people wearing business attire.
“So I accidentally ran into him, and I apologized because beer did get everywhere. His button up was soaked, but it was an accident.”
“And he was a dick about it?”
Pippa whistles. “He was more than a dick about it. I tried buying him a new shirt because I felt so bad and was wondering if he was just having a bad night. He was still an enormous dick after the new shirt.”
“Yikes.”
“Now back to you because you’re not getting out of this, and we’re getting close to the Livingston Estate where the wedding is.”
I sigh, thinking about everything that’s happened between Cade and I over the years. “I don’t really know where to start.”
“From the beginning,” Pippa offers.
So I do. I start from the very beginning. From the first night I ever crawled into Cade’s bed and all the nights after that. To the birthdays we spent together and the first time we kissed. I skim over a few parts I don’t want to tell her because Cade is her brother, and there’s some lines I won’t cross with her. I tell her about the few months when he was my everything. And then I get to the part where he broke my heart and what’s happened between the two of us since I’ve been back.
I take a deep breath. “So that covers it.”
“Your book makes a whole lot more sense now.”
I keep my mouth shut. When people in interviews would ask me how I could weave so much angst and hurt into the story, I lied and said I had a vivid imagination.
That wasn’t the truth. I could pour myself into the book because it was my hurt and heartbreak in those pages. It was my anguish. It was my story. Well, our story.
Pippa pulls into the long driveway that leads to the Livingston Estate. We went to high school with some of the Livingston boys. Their family owns so much of Sutten that they have multiple houses and estates in the town. They’re rich enough to rent one of their many properties out for weddings and events.
“Okay, you don’t have to tell me the book is about you and Cade. I can make my own assumptions, which is kind of gross because I’ve read your sex scenes.”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Next question,” I plead.
Pippa parks the van in the driveway. She immediately opens her door and hops out, giving me no choice but to follow. When I come around back, she has the back doors open and is bending inside grabbing boxes.
She looks over at me. “What are you going to do when you leave?”
I chew on my lip because I really don’t know what happens when I leave. Soon, I’ll have to go back to Chicago and pitch the new story and ending I’ve created for this duet. Rudy keeps calling me to remind me that I have to at least come back for those meetings and the ones we’ll have when finishing the book, but I’ve been avoiding his calls. I don’t want to think about leaving yet. Everything is still so new.
“I don’t know if we’ve thought that far ahead yet,” I answer. I don’t want to leave things the same way I did last time I left Sutten, but I also can’t give up everything I’ve worked for in the years since leaving. There’s a lot we have to figure out, and I can’t give Pippa the answers because I don’t know them myself.
Pippa lets out an annoyed sigh. She starts scooting boxes to the edge of the van, lining them up so she can unload them easier. “You have to think about these things, Mare. I’m not blind. I’ve known there’s been something between the two of you for a long time. But you really, really hurt him. I don’t want to see him go through that again. Especially after Mom.”
I’m silent, thinking of all the times Pippa probably caught on to what was happening between Cade and me. We tried keeping it a secret, but looking back, I can see where she would’ve had her suspicions.
The last thing I want to do is hurt Cade. Back then, I wasn’t aware of how much he was hurting. But I know now. I don’t want to hurt him again. I don’t want to be hurt by him again either. I have faith that this time around, Cade and I can figure things out together. But we need time to do that. I don’t have much time until I have to go back to Chicago.
“We’re adults, Pippa,” I tell her, hoping that we will be able to figure it out. Pippa begins to stack boxes in her hands, the tower getting higher and higher. I’m worried it may topple over if she adds any more. “Here let me help you,” I demand, taking a step closer to her.
“I’ve got it,” she gets out, her voice straining under the stack of boxes. “I’m not trying to get involved in any business that involves my brother and my best friend. But you need to really think about what’s going to happen when you leave.”
Pippa’s words make me pause. She has a point. Cade is steadfast in saying that he won’t let us fall apart again, and I believe him, but we also need to have a long conversation about what happens next.
Pippa shoots me a warning look over the stack of boxes before she turns toward the large house.
The next chain of events play out in slow motion. I try to pull Pippa backward, but it’s no use.
Pippa runs straight into a man in a suit, sending boxes flying in different directions.
“Fuck,” the man yells.
“Oh fuck,” Pippa screeches, her arms flailing as she tries to catch some of the boxes.
I lunge forward, trying to catch something, but it isn’t any use. There’s a group of us all attempting to save even one box, but none of us are able to.
Pink boxes tumble to the ground. Pippa looks down at them, defeated, a string of curse words falling from her mouth.
Pippa looks up, meeting the eyes of the man she ran into. She looks like she’s about to apologize, but recognition takes over her features. Except, this doesn’t seem like the good kind of recognition. Her face gets red with anger. “You again? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Pippa yells.
“Oh my god, Pippa,” I rush to get out, crouching down as I attempt to find boxes that can be salvaged.
I’m busy trying to save the cupcakes that haven’t hit the pavement when the man clears his throat loudly. “Do you just not look where you’re going, or do you just enjoy running into me?” His voice is scathing. My eyes immediately snap to him, wondering why this guy is being such a dick for something that was clearly an accident.
My eyes bounce to Pippa. She stares daggers at him. The look she gives him makes me nervous. She’s normally happy go lucky. Whatever history she has with this guy must be bad.
It dawns on me that this must be the guy from Slopes. It’d make sense. If he’s here for a wedding, he probably did go to our tourist bar. And his comment about them running into each other again makes sense now.
The asshole in a suit stares back at Pippa, completely undeterred by the dirty look she gives him. If looks could kill, he’d be a goner.
“You know you’re supposed to actually look where you’re going when walking,” he chastises.
A girl in a bridesmaid’s dress hits the guy in the arm. She looks at him like he’s grown a third head because she reaches down to help me with the boxes.
“Don’t worry, he’s really an asshole to everyone,” the girl says under her breath.
“You’re friends with him, why?” I ask, wondering if he really can be this much of a dick all the time.
“His asshole personality is kind of endearing after a while. It’s a defense mechanism for him.”
I nod, still wondering why anyone would want to associate with somebody like that. He’s a total grump. Maybe even past grump and into straight up douchebag territory.
The bridesmaid and I are busy picking up the last of the boxes when Pippa squats down next to us and starts to pick up the cupcakes. “You know you’re supposed to actually have a big dick if you’re going to be this big of an asshole,” Pippa mutters under her breath, making a point to aim her eyes at his groin.
The douche in a suit’s jaw snaps shut. “I think you just ruined a thousand dollar suit,” he growls.
“Oh I get it,” Pippa barks. “You use expensive suits to cover up the fact that you’ve got the worst fucking personality on the planet. Not to mention, you just ruined hours of hard work.” Pippa points to the colorful globs of icing lining the pavement.
A woman in white—who I’m guessing must be the bride—steps forward. “We’ll see what we can salvage,” she offers. “It really only looks like a few things got ruined.”
“Oh my God, you’re the bride and I just—well, this asshole—just ruined your desserts! I’m Pippa, the owner, and I’m so sorry.” Pippa looks at the van, her eyes connecting with mine for a moment. I feel bad, she looks flustered, and I know what she walked in on this morning between Cade and me probably doesn’t help things. “If I leave right now, I can replace the damages and bring them back in time…”
The bride shakes her head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I think I severely over-ordered anyway.”
Pippa frowns as I hand over a box of cupcakes that don’t look like the best presentation wise, but they’re edible since they didn’t topple over on the ground.
“The strawberry ones are my favorite,” Pippa whines.
“I never really liked strawberry anyway,” the bride answers.
“You really should replace the cupcakes,” the asshole interjects.
The bride glares at him. Surely this can’t be the groom. The girl looks too nice to be marrying such an ass. “Camden, stop,” she says low.
The guy—Camden—doesn’t break eye contact with Pippa, the two of them locked in a heated stare.
Pippa takes a deep breath, her eyes glancing at me for a split second before she glares back at Camden. She smirks and the sight makes me nervous. “You know, Camden,” she begins, venom laced in her words. “I’m having a really, really bad day, and I’m just not in the mood to deal with a rich, entitled asshole.”
“Your bad day matters to me, why?”
Pippa throws her hands up in the air and turns to face the back of the van. She looks at the boxes that didn’t get ruined in the whole incident. Pippa takes a long, dramatic deep breath. “Other than the fact that I found out my brother and best friend are fucking again and quite literally ran into the same dick from the bar the other night who doesn’t give two shits that he ruined something I worked really hard on in the process? I don’t actually give a damn if my bad day matters to your not.”
“Pipp—” I interrupt, wanting to apologize for the part I played in the way her day has gone. I start to reach out to her, but I realize I have icing all over my hands so I wipe my hands on my jeans.
“Not right now, Mare,” Pippa interrupts. Not only does this Camden guy get a dirty look, but I do too.
“How about I take a load in?” The bridesmaid offers, obviously trying to ease the tension in the air.
Pippa’s eyes soften slightly as she takes a deep breath. She grabs a few boxes, and without saying anything, she follows the bridesmaid inside. I’m left watching her walk away, having no choice but to help bring things in.
The Camden guy steps next to me, and despite his obvious anger, he starts helping by grabbing some of the boxes.
He looks over, catching me looking at him. “What?” he asks, stacking one box over the other.
My eyes go wide as I turn back to my own task. “Nothing,” I say under my breath. “I just really thought you were such an asshole that you kind of surprised me by helping with the boxes.”
He grunts, creating a stack far larger than mine. “Your boss have a habit of spilling shit on people?”
I laugh, his question taking me by surprise. “She’s not my boss, she’s my friend. But no, apparently it’s just you.”
His dark, gelled hair doesn’t budge an inch as he shakes his head. “Lucky me.”
