But this logical explanation didn’t get rid of my genuine disappointment… or how uneasy that disappointment made me.
“This is why Aunt Cherry has a rule about never bringing a man home more than three times. Shit starts getting confused,” I informed the dog. “Also, three is a really easy number to keep track of.”
I wished I’d kept in better touch with my friends after leaving Nashville. I could have used someone to talk to about all these things or to take my mind off them. But, like my apartment and all the stuff Scott and I acquired when we were together, I’d decided it would make for a cleaner break if I left those relationships behind.
Instead, I threw on a pair of sweats and some shoes. “How about a nice long walk for once, Herc?” I suggested. “I need exercise to clear some cobwebs.”
The morning was cold when we first stepped outside, but by the time Herc and I had walked almost all the way down Walnut Street to the community events barn, the temperature had warmed, and I was feeling much better.
To be fair, that might have been less about the exercise and more about the people I met.
It seemed like every three feet, someone waved or called my name, like they’d been waiting for the opportunity to say hi, or reintroduce themselves, or ask about Aunt Cherry.
Lurlene Jackson had promised to make me a batch of the chocolate icebox cookies I’d liked back in the day.
Pete Timms reminded me of the Fourth of July weenie roast when I was fourteen, where I’d stared at gorgeous Colin Kearns all night but never got up the courage to ask him out. Then he’d laughed at my shock when he told me Colin still lived in town… with his husband and kids.
It was a little weird, and a little wonderful, and exactly the distraction I needed.
I took deep breaths of fresh, crisp air as Herc and I strolled the last couple of blocks home. The Thicket in winter smelled like coffee and woodsmoke. It was a happy, comfortable scent that reminded me of Champ. Or maybe Champ reminded me of the Thicket—
And just like that, that stomach-flipping, nervous-excited-vomity feeling was back in my stomach.
This was seriously concerning.
I was scheduled to meet Marissa out at the farm in a couple of hours for our first walk-through of the venue. Since Champ had hightailed it without a word, I could only assume I’d be going alone, which was great. Perfect. The last thing I needed was for him to tag along and suggest more ridiculous wedding stuff to further his investigation—“All the best weddings are fingerprinting guests for fun these days, Marissa!”—that would require us to spend even more time together.
Five weeks might be impossibly short for wedding-planning purposes, but it was also way too long for me to spend impersonating Percy Champion’s fiancé without losing my sanity. The more time we spent together, the harder it was to remember where the actual boundaries of our relationship were. The sooner it was over, the better.
At the last minute, I detoured across the street to Annie’s bakery for some coffee and donut fortification. But the second I put my foot on the sidewalk, a tiny blond child raced out of the bakery. He only got five paces down the sidewalk before he rocked to a stop in front of me and Hercules, making Herc bark excitedly.
The boy popped the finger he’d been sucking out of his mouth and pointed at the dog. “Canis familiaris,” he whispered, wide-eyed.
Uh. “Pardon?”
“Beau? Beau!” A pretty blonde woman with a baby in her arms chased the little boy out of the bakery. “Oh, good Lord, I’m so sorry. He’s fascinated with dogs, and his father insists on teaching him Latin words, because apparently being a mother of three little ones wasn’t enough of a challenge.” She sighed and ran a hand over the boy’s hair. “Beauregard Siegel, what have I told you about running off without me?”
“Um.” The boy wrinkled his nose. “‘No running, Beau’?”
“Exactly,” she said severely.
“But, Mama, I din’ run.” He blinked up at her angelically. “I jes… walked fast.” He smiled at his mother with such irresistible charm and confidence in his own logic that I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
The woman bit her lip, also, like she was fighting the same urge. “It’s bad enough that he’s as sassy as I was at his age, but nobody told me he’d be as smart as my husband too. I’m sunk.”
I didn’t know the first thing about having children… but I remembered being one that no one quite knew how to handle.
I squatted down and addressed the boy. “His name is Hercules. You can pet him if you’d like.”
Herc was straining at his leash like he really wanted to slobber his friendship all over the little boy.