The day after Thanksgiving, I woke up early and went into the store. I stopped for coffee at a chain donut shop instead of Plum & Honey, which made me feel terrible, but I couldn’t face Frannie. All day yesterday, I’d felt like I was wearing a giant neon sign that said LIAR on it. My stomach was so upset, I’d hardly enjoyed the meal.
Several times, family members had asked me if I was okay, and I nodded and smiled and said yes, I was fine, just preoccupied with the shop. Since that was such an understandable reason for my distraction, everyone believed me. In fact, they got excited and asked tons of questions and volunteered to help out if I needed extra hands this weekend. I was expecting both of my sisters to show up this morning, possibly my dad and Dex as well. Even Dex’s girls piped up and offered their services if I needed anyone to try on dresses and see if they’d fit short brides.
I’d thanked them and said I was pretty sure the dresses were only going to fit grown-up ladies, but they were welcome to come visit the shop and try on a veil or two. They’d exchanged a look of pure joy.
Smiling at the memory—they reminded me of the MacAllister sisters at that age—I let myself into the store and looked around. There was still a ton of work to do, but the builders had finished, the floors were done, and the new lighting had been installed. It was amazing progress for just three and a half weeks.
I sipped my coffee and grimaced—it was awful, weak and stale. But I told myself I deserved it for keeping my distance from Frannie. It hurt my heart to keep something so big from her, to refrain from asking her advice. I could use it. Same with my sisters. I wasn’t used to hiding my feelings this way.
When the door opened behind me, bringing in a gust of cold air, I turned in surprise.
Felicity entered, carrying two white cardboard cups. “Morning,” she chirped with a smile. Then she saw the coffee in my hand, and her face fell. “Oh, shoot. You already got coffee this morning.”
I eyed one of the cups in her hand. “Is that from Plum & Honey? Because this isn’t, and I can’t even drink it.”
“Yes. Here.” She handed me the cup. “Why’d you go someplace else?”
Walking over to the reception desk, I ditched my old coffee on the marble counter and eagerly inhaled the aroma coming from the Plum & Honey cup. “I took a different way downtown, that’s all.”
“Oh.” She came over and set a large purse on the counter, then pulled a white bakery bag from it. “I brought breakfast too.”
“You’re an angel.” I glanced at the pink velvet circle settee with the tufted back that had just been delivered on Tuesday, the only seating I had in there so far. “We just can’t get anything on that upholstery.”
She laughed. “Let’s sit on the floor.”
We dropped down on the newly refinished pine floor, stained a gorgeous dark walnut, and leaned back against the couch. Facing the front of the shop, we stretched out our legs and Felicity placed some scones on the bag between us. Outside the windows, snow flurries drifted to the ground.
“So how are things?” Felicity asked.
“Good. Great. I’m on track to be open by the first of the year.”
“That’s awesome.” Felicity sipped her coffee. “But I meant with you personally.”
I took a bite of scone and wondered if I should confide in Felicity. It would feel so good to have someone to talk to about Zach. But would she guilt me about it? Or would she understand? “I’m fine,” I said gingerly.
“I know you’re fine, but I have this feeling something’s going on with you that isn’t just about the shop.”
I took a small sip from my coffee cup. “If I tell you,” I said slowly, “do you promise not to judge? Or say anything to anyone else?”
She held out one pinkie, and I hooked it with mine.
“Okay.” I inhaled deeply. “I’m having a sort of . . . affair with Zach.”
“I figured that might be it. You’ve been traveling so much—you’re seeing him on those trips?”
“Yes.”
“So it’s serious?”
“Yes and no.” I struggled to explain it. “My feelings are serious, but what we’re doing can’t be. That’s the problem.”
“And the more time you spend together, the more you feel.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, he’s not a lost puppy,” she pointed out, a tinge of hope in her voice. “Is Mason the issue?”
“Mason is a huge part of it. Zach gave Mason his word that nothing happened between us.”
“But that was before there really was something, right? I mean, couldn’t you just explain to Mason that you tried not to act on your attraction, but you just . . . couldn’t help it?”
“‘Couldn’t help it’ might explain one time,” I said. “But the last three months? If we admit the truth to Mason now, it means revealing that we’ve been carrying on since the wedding behind his back. People will talk about me, and it won’t be nice. I’m trying to get a business going in this town. I want people to associate my name with professionalism and romance, not a tawdry scandal.”
She sighed. “Yeah. It would be juicy gossip.”
“We would hurt Mason, destroy his relationship with his father, make Zach look like a jerk, ruin my reputation . . . and for what? It’s not like there’s any possibility of a future.”
“None at all?”
“No.” I set my coffee down and tried to fight the tears that sprang to my eyes. “He has a grown son and an ex-wife.”
“I didn’t know about the ex. Are there other kids?”
“No. He had a vasectomy years ago.”
“Oh.” Then, a little softer. “Oh.”
In the silence, the hopelessness of it all seemed to pile up around me.
“Wait, can’t a vasectomy be reversed?” Felicity asked, sitting up taller.
“It can, but the success rate of pregnancy afterward is only about fifty percent or so, given how long it’s been since he had it done. I Googled it.”
“Hmm.” She leaned back again. “Fifty percent doesn’t give you great odds.”
“Nope. So there’s really no point in suffering Mason’s anger and small-town scorn. Zach cannot be the one.” The lump in my throat continued to swell. “No matter how perfect he is for me in every other way.”
Felicity sighed. “I’m sorry, Mills. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Tell me I’m an idiot to fall in love with him.”
“I could, but I don’t think it will help.” My sister scooted closer and put an arm around me.
A tear slipped down my cheek, and then another. Annoyed with myself, I wiped them away. “This is stupid. I knew going in what this was.”
“Sometimes our hearts don’t communicate with our heads.”
“Hearts are dumb,” I said angrily.
We sat in silence for a moment, watching the snow grow a little thicker. “So what now?” she asked.
“We’re meeting in Chicago next weekend.”
“You are?” She sounded surprised.
I remembered Zach’s words the night he showed up at my house after telling me he couldn’t see me again. “Believe me, Felicity, if I could stay away from him, I would.”
“But isn’t it just going to make it harder to end things if you keep seeing him like that? Why torture yourself?”
I sniffed as my eyes welled again, then picked up my coffee. “Like I said. Hearts are dumb.”
