She stared out the passenger side window a moment. “I miss your dad. He should be here for this.”

Immediately, I felt horrible. Of course she was missing my dad. We all were. Griffin and I had talked about it at Thanksgiving, how sad we were that he’d miss all these big moments in our lives—weddings and babies being born and every milestone afterward—as well as just being around for the little moments, like Sunday dinners and telling dad jokes and the occasional beer after work.

I shook my head, ashamed I’d assumed her silence this week had been about me. “You’re right. He should be, and I miss him too.”

We were both quiet then, reliving our memories of a man who’d worked so hard all his life, loved his family so fiercely, and had deserved the easy retirement surrounded by grandchildren he never got. A heart attack had stolen everything from him—and him from us—six years ago.

“He’d like Blair, don’t you think?” I asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Oh, definitely.” My mother nodded. “But who wouldn’t?”

“It’s so incredible, the way they found each other, isn’t it? I mean, what are the chances that your soul mate is the mechanic who fixes your car after you get stranded in his town?”

“Probably about the same as your soul mate being the boy next door who’s been there all along,” she said breezily.

“Mom, don’t start. I told you. We’re—”

“Just friends. I know. Because he doesn’t date.”

“Exactly.”

“Although, I did hear the strangest rumor about Cole at the dry cleaners the other day.”

“You did?”

“Yes. Someone said they’d heard he’d recently come out as gay and was in a relationship with Enzo Moretti.”

I burst out laughing. “What? That’s ridiculous!”

She laughed too. “Apparently they were seen looking for a house together.”

“That’s because Enzo is helping Cole find a house for him and Mariah to move into.”

“Oh. Well, that makes more sense.” She paused. “But if he was gay, that would explain why he isn’t interested in you.”

“Mom. He’s not gay.”

She sighed. “Fine.” A minute later, she chuckled. “But they would make a handsome couple, don’t you think?”

“Definitely.” I laughed again too, then turned my windshield wipers on. “Looks like the snow is starting.”

“Oh, dear,” my mother fretted. “I wish they’d chosen a venue closer to home.”

“Well, Blair had her heart set on Cloverleigh Farms. And maybe they’re overestimating how much we’ll get. That happens all the time.”

My mother crossed herself. “I hope you’re right.”

But the snow fell steadily for the rest of the drive, thicker and heavier the farther north we got. I white-knuckled the steering wheel of my Honda, ramrod in my seat, glad I’d let Griffin talk me into new tires this year.

We should have arrived at Cloverleigh Farms around seven, but thanks to the weather, it was after nine. We checked into our rooms at the inn—my mother’s was down at the far end of the second floor, and mine was closer to the rest of the wedding party’s—and planned on meeting down at the restaurant for a quick bite, but I was still hanging things up in the closet when she called and said she was too tired and had decided to just order room service instead.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “Blair just texted and said she and Griffin are down there with some other people.”

“Positive. You go ahead. I’m pooped, and tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

“Okay, get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, honey.”

“‘Night.” I grabbed my purse, tucking my room keycard inside it, and headed down to the bar.

The inn was only two stories, and although there was an elevator at the end of the hall, I chose to use the lobby’s grand staircase, which was decorated for the holidays with fragrant evergreen boughs and white lights. As I descended the steps, I looked around and thought it was no wonder Blair wanted to get married here—the whole place radiated elegance, warmth, and romance. At one end of the room was a huge stone fireplace with logs ablaze inside it. In the corner stood a gigantic Christmas tree hung with white lights and colorful ornaments. In the air was the scent of woodsmoke and apples and cinnamon. From the bar came the cheerful sound of clinking glasses, the hum of conversation punctuated by bursts of laughter, and beneath it all, joyful holiday music.

I couldn’t help smiling as I entered the cozy, low-lit bar, which was styled like an English pub, with lots of dark wood paneling, a leather banquette and small tables along one wall, and a crackling fire in the fireplace. Right away I spotted Blair and Griffin at the long wooden bar opposite the banquette and headed their way—then stopped in my tracks when I noticed Cole was with them.

Shit!

I touched the ribbed knit cap on my head, wishing I’d washed my hair today. What was he doing here? Hadn’t Blair said he wasn’t coming up until tomorrow morning?

I looked down in dismay at my traveling outfit, which had clearly been chosen for comfort, not for style. I still had my North Face boots on, for fuck’s sake. And giant slouchy socks. My black leggings were okay, but my rust-colored sweater was a giant baggy thing with a turtleneck and sleeves that were too long. Cozy, but not terribly cute, and a far cry from sexy or alluring.

I was considering sneaking back up to my room to change, or maybe even order room service, when Blair caught sight of me. “Cheyenne’s here!” she cried out, loudly enough that everyone around her turned to look at me.

No backing out now. Embarrassed, I lifted a hand, which was hidden inside my floppy sleeve. “Hi.”

Blair came rushing toward me, grabbing me in a hug. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know he was coming early. He just showed up a little bit ago.”

“Why didn’t you text me?” I whispered back.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come down.”

I let her go and gave her a dirty look. “That was a mean trick. Look at me—I look like I just crawled out of bed. Through a blizzard.”

“You look adorable,” she said, taking my hand and tugging me toward the bar. “Come on. Frannie’s here, and she can’t wait to see you.”

“Oh, good! I’m excited to see her too.”

Frannie was also one of Blair’s bridesmaids. She was an old friend of mine from when I’d student taught in this area, and her family owned Cloverleigh Farms. I’d actually introduced Blair to her, and for a while—before Griffin had finally figured out that he was in love with Blair and begged her to come back to Bellamy Creek—she had lived at Cloverleigh and worked as a pastry chef at Frannie’s coffee shop. Carefully avoiding Cole’s eye, I let Blair pull me over to where Frannie stood with two other women, a blonde I didn’t recognize and an auburn-haired beauty who looked vaguely familiar.

“Hey, you!” Frannie said, giving me a huge hug. “Long time, no see!”

“How are you, Frannie?”

“I’m fine. Life is crazy with five girls at home—I’m amazed Mack hasn’t lost his mind yet—but everything is good.”