“That’s really exciting, Cole. I’m happy for you.”
The server brought my check, and I signed it to my room. When we were alone again, Cole smiled at me across the table. “So is your mom still mad about the plate?”
I laughed. “I think she’s forgiven us.”
“Good.”
Another silence, during which we locked eyes and the air between us crackled with tension. Was he remembering that kiss?
“I should go up to bed,” I said, rising to my feet.
“Same.” Cole stood too. “What floor are you on?”
“Second.”
“Me too. I’ll walk up with you.”
My legs felt shaky as we left the bar and climbed the lobby stairs. As we neared my room, I pulled my keycard from my purse. “This one’s mine,” I said, gesturing toward the door.
He nodded. “I’m in two-eighteen.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to do with that information—other than imagine myself sneaking down to his room.
NO, my inner adult scolded. No sneaking.
No sneaking and no sexting and no saying anything but goodnight.
Because the way he was looking at me was making it hard to breathe.
“Well, goodnight,” I said, opening the door to my room.
“Goodnight.” He stuck his hands in his pockets.
I entered my room and shut the door.
At least, I tried to shut the door—Cole’s hand shot out and stopped it. “Cheyenne, wait.”
My breath caught. “Yes?”
“I just want to say that I’m really glad to see you made it up here safely. I was worried about you making that drive.”
“I’m fine.” I glanced down at my outfit. “A little grungy and disheveled, but fine.”
“You’re always beautiful.”
Our eyes met. I wanted to thank him, but I couldn’t speak.
“Also . . .” He struggled for words. “I want you to know that I thought about you all week. And I wish . . .” He paused. “I keep wishing things were different.”
I smiled and lifted my shoulders. “I wish things were different too, but I appreciate your honesty.”
“So we’re okay?”
The tightness in my throat made it hard to get the words out. “We’re okay.”
He nodded. “‘Night.”
“‘Night.” I closed the door and leaned back against it, trying not to cry.
We might be okay, but I was not.
Ten
Cheyenne
Blair texted me early, before my alarm even went off.
Flights out of Nashville are grounded.
Reading my screen in the dark, I gasped and sat up. Before I could reply, she called me.
“Hello?”
“I knew it,” she said, and I could tell she was crying. “I knew everything was too perfect.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said in my most soothing voice. “But the wedding is still going to be perfect, Blair. It’s going to be okay.”
“They say they don’t want to drive up because the roads are so bad,” she sobbed. “How can they do this to me? My own family.”
“Listen to me. Let’s focus on the most important thing—you are getting married tomorrow. And they’re not your only family anymore, okay?”
“What if no one can get here, not even from Bellamy Creek? I’ll have a wedding and no guests!”
“Listen, people from Bellamy Creek are used to driving in the winter. They’ll be fine. And next spring, you’ll get married again down in Tennessee. I’ve never been to Nashville, and I’d love for you to show me around!”
She sniffed. “Okay. You’re right. I need to focus on the good.”
“That’s my girl.” I got out of bed and went over to the window to pull open the drapes. The brightness nearly blinded me—the entire landscape surrounding Cloverleigh Farms was covered in snow, and it was still coming down. “Yikes.”
“Yikes, what?” Blair asked, alarmed.
“Nothing.” I bit my lip, blinking at the world of white outside my window. “Everything is beautiful.”
In a way, Blair’s panic about the weather was a good distraction for me—keeping her calm and thinking positively took up all my time and effort. I had no headspace left over to be upset about Cole.
The day passed quickly—champagne breakfast with all the bridesmaids, plus Mariah and my mom; a slow, careful drive into town for our spa appointments; a light lunch in town before we all went to our rooms to get ready for a late afternoon wine tasting at Cloverleigh’s winery, which would be followed by the rehearsal and then dinner.
I wasn’t sure what the guys did all day, but Blair was on the phone with Griffin constantly, and between my brother and me, we did our best to reassure Blair that the wedding of her dreams was still possible, even if half the guests didn’t show.
We were on our way back to Cloverleigh Farms after lunch when she clutched my arm. “Oh my God, who’s going to walk me down the aisle? I can’t believe I didn’t think of that!”
“Don’t worry about a thing,” I said, patting her hand. “I have an idea.”
When we got back to the inn, I sent Blair up to her room to rest and headed for the lobby desk. It surprised me to see April there at reception.
“Hey,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“Our regular desk manager had to stay home with her kids today—snow day, no school,” she explained. “I was already here, so I said I’d fill in this afternoon. How’s Blair holding up?”
“Okay. She’s disappointed her family won’t make it in, but what can you do?”
April nodded in understanding. “Always a risk with a winter wedding in Michigan.”
“I wondered if you might be able to help me,” I said. “Blair is worried about who will walk her down the aisle since her dad won’t be here, and I have an idea. Can you tell me if a certain guest has checked in yet?”
“Sure,” she said, moving over to her computer screen. “What’s the name?”
I gave her the name, and she shook her head.
“Not yet, but they haven’t canceled.”
“Okay, good. Can you let me know when they check in or if they cancel?”
She nodded. “Sure thing.”
“And don’t say anything to Blair, okay? I think it will be a nice surprise for her—something sweet.”
She winked at me. “You got it.”
The wedding party met up in the lobby at four, and together we all walked over to the winery, laughing as we slogged through the snow in jeans and boots, none of us wearing the dress clothes we’d packed for the occasion.
I walked with Blair and Frannie, but I was keenly aware of Cole’s presence behind us with the rest of the guys. Both Enzo and Beckett had made the drive safely, along with Enzo’s parents and Beckett’s dad, and we’d also seen lots of familiar faces from Bellamy Creek in the lobby checking in. Blair had cheered up immeasurably.