A kiss I’d been dreaming about since I was twelve years old. A kiss I’d never forget as long as I lived. A kiss I’d replayed in my head, over and over again, every single night since he’d walked out of the kitchen.

“I don’t understand it,” she said again.

“I do.” I added a stack of bras and underwear to my suitcase. “He told me flat out that we needed to slow down, that he felt like things were moving too fast.”

“Yeah, but there’s a difference between slowing down and slamming on the brakes. All you did was kiss!”

“Yeah, but that was a huge deal for us,” I said. “This isn’t like I just met someone random at a bar and he brought me home and kissed me. This is Cole.” I placed a pair of jeans and two sweaters into the suitcase. “He’s not like anyone else. And he’s too good a guy to feed me bullshit. He doesn’t want to start something he can’t finish, and I don’t want to be that girl clinging to blind hope for the rest of my life. He was honest with me, and I respect that.”

“Maybe he was just really busy this week,” Blair said brightly. “I told you he put an offer in on that old house by the creek, right?”

“You did, and I’m excited for him. But he and I have talked about moving out a lot, so I kind of thought he might tell me about it himself.” I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror and glared at it. “See? This is the problem with me. I say I’m not going to get my hopes up, and then I do. I say I’m okay with things, and then I’m not. I pick unavailable people, and then I wonder why I get disappointed.”

“Grr, it’s so maddening,” said Blair. “Any idiot could see the way he was staring at you at Thanksgiving.”

I went back to packing, purposefully tossing in some pajamas that were not sexy in the least. “Thanksgiving was a good time. But I think it scared him.”

She sighed. “Has your mom forgiven you for the plate?”

“Who knows? She says she’s not mad, but she’s been weird this week.”

“Weird like how?”

“I don’t know. Just quiet. But I feel like she’s looking at me and silently judging. Wondering what I did wrong with Cole. Why he doesn’t want me.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Or maybe that’s me projecting.”

“Has she asked about him?”

“No,” I admitted, tucking some socks into my suitcase. “Tell me again how dressy I need to be for the rehearsal dinner.”

“I thought you had an outfit planned already.”

“I did, but now I don’t know if I’m in the right mood for it.” I sank onto my bed and stared at the black dress hanging on the back of my closet door. “Maybe it’s too sexy.”

“It’s not.”

“I can’t wear a bra with it.”

“What are you, my grandma?”

“And it’s tight.”

“It shows off your fantastic body!”

I sighed. “What if it looks like I’m trying too hard?”

“Cheyenne. Stop. If anything, Cole is going to spend the entire night drooling over you and kicking himself for ignoring you all week.”

“I doubt that.”

“You didn’t see what I saw on Thanksgiving. When he watched you come down those stairs, he lit up like he had fireflies under his skin. I’ve never seen anything like it. Wear the damn dress.”

I smiled, despite everything. “I’ll at least bring it.”

“What time are you leaving?”

“Soon, I hope. It would be great to get up there before the snow starts.”

“Oh God, don’t talk about the snow. Do you really think we’re going to get as much as they’re saying?”

“I hope not.” The forecast was dire—we were supposed to get about six inches of snow by tonight and something like another foot and a half by Saturday morning. Blair was terrified the weather was going to prevent people from being able to make it to the wedding. Not only were lots of people driving up from Bellamy Creek, but her family was flying in from Nashville. “When do your parents arrive?”

“Their flight is supposed to leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Are you excited to see them?”

“Yes and no.” Blair laughed. “I haven’t let my mother near my wedding plans, so she’ll be sure to have plenty to say about all the things I’m doing wrong, but that’s okay. The whole reason I left that life behind was because I didn’t want to live by anyone else’s rules or traditions.”

Blair had been brought up a wealthy, blue-blooded debutante, but her family had lost all its money after her father took some bad advice and wound up being convicted of tax evasion. But rather than marry rich just to live in luxury again like her mother wanted her to, she’d chosen a different path. She’d been on her way to her new life when her car broke down in Bellamy Creek.

“Well, I’m excited to meet them,” I said, determined to focus on the bright side. “What are you guys up to this afternoon?”

“We’re meeting with the wedding planner at four-thirty to go over some final details, and then we’ve got a dinner reservation at six. I’m just waiting for Griff to get out of the shower, so we can get going.”

“Hey, does Griffin . . . know? About Cole and me?”

“He definitely thinks something was up between you guys last week, but I didn’t tell him any specifics. It’s weird, because you’re his sister. He’s said a hundred times that he wishes Cole would get back out there, but he can’t exactly be like, ‘dude, Cheyenne’s into you, you should hit that.’”

I frowned. “Ew. Gross.”

Blair laughed. “But Cole’s his best friend. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you together.”

“Never going to happen,” I said, willing it to sink in once and for all. “I’ve always known it.”

“You never know. Maybe this weekend will change things. Weddings are romantic occasions.”

“I know.”

“I’ll see you later tonight. Drive carefully, okay?”

“I will.”

We hung up, and I slipped the black dress and my crimson velvet bridesmaid dress into a garment bag.

For a moment, I stood there, touching the velvet bodice, imagining Cole in his suit, his arms around me on the dance floor.

That was probably as good as it was going to get.

My mother remained uncharacteristically quiet on the drive up to Cloverleigh Farms. I finally asked her about it, even though I was worried the answer was going to be something like, I’m just so happy for your brother, but I can’t help wondering when you’re going to find the one.

“Something on your mind, Mom?”

She sighed. “Not really.”

I gritted my teeth. “I can tell there’s something. You haven’t said a word since we left home. And you’ve been giving me the silent treatment all week. Are you still mad about the plate?”

“The what?” My mother seemed genuinely confused for a moment. “Oh—no. It’s not that.”

“What is it?”