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I scoff and give him a pat on his shoulder. “That’s nothing. Wait until you see the bill for the flowers.”

“And the tent,” Thea says. “The swagging alone costs upward of ten grand. Welcome to the big leagues, my friend.”

By the time we have a mood board that kinda-sorta works, it’s dark out. The low hum of cocktail hour at the lobby bar fills the air, along with the scent of a fire.

Hadley is bleary-eyed as he shuts his notebook and tucks his pencil behind his ear. “Holy shit, y’all. That was intense.”

“And just think.” I smile ruefully as I rub the back of my neck. “We get to do it all over again tomorrow.”

Thea eyes me. Here on the Farm, I’m infamous for being brutally honest. Bullshit is the enemy. But lately the things I say have bordered on cynical, and that’s something I don’t aspire to be.

Whatever. I’m planning Nate Kingsley’s wedding. To someone else. Think I need to cut myself a little slack right now.

“Thank you guys so much for your input today,” I say, yawning as I tuck my laptop underneath my arm. “Amazing work, as always. Tomorrow we’ll tackle some of the smaller details—transportation, hair, and makeup. Oh! Thea, would you mind reaching out to Reese and asking her about her dress? I know she hasn’t bought one yet. If she needs boutique recommendations, please send her our list.”

Nodding, Thea makes a note of it. “On it. Anything else?”

“Nope. Y’all get some rest. We have a busy week ahead.”

Thea and Hadley head out. I’m beat. I should take my own advice and go home. Eat a vegetable and go to bed early.

I’m also frustrated, which is making me restless. And yeah, the idea of going home alone to an empty house is depressing as hell. It was never easy to forget the way Nate greeted me at the end of a long day: always generous, often naked. But I had forgotten.

And then this wedding happened.

I know it’s a dumb idea, but I scroll through my contacts anyway and pull up Jason’s number. We met on a dating app a couple months ago. It’s not a love connection by any means, but he’s got a big dick and a magic tongue. Perfect way to work out some of this frustration.

Milly: Wanna fuck?

Jason: Lol you don’t beat around the bush. I like that lol

Milly: Meet me at my place in 20.

Jason: I’m tied up at the moment lol but I’ll see what I can do [winky face emoji]

The excessive use of “LOL” and the emoji make me cringe. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

At home, I put on a pink silk teddy and take a gummy. While I wait for Jason, I fire off some emails, write out tomorrow’s to-do list in my planner, and leave my favorite calligrapher a voicemail in the hopes I can book her for Reese’s save-the-dates.

Jason never shows.

Chapter Five

Nate

My headlights swipe across the valet stand, revealing a small army of valets and a woman in a gigantic fur coat climbing out of a Mercedes. Her date waits for her by the stand, his shiny shoes glinting as he turns to sneer at my Bronco.

Prick.

Shoving the truck in park, I glance at my own shoes—suede boots, best I got—and sigh.

According to Reese, Bubble is Asheville’s hottest new restaurant. I duck my head to get a better look at the place and see a massive crowd mobbing the bar inside. The thud of a bass line makes the chassis of my truck vibrate. It’s already giving me a headache.

A valet drives the Mercedes out of view, so I put the Bronco back in drive and pull up to the stand. Unhooking my house key from my key ring, I hop out of the truck.

People waiting by the door stare. It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. The Bronco is loud and it’s not exactly fancy, but it gets the job done.

By the way people continue to stare, however, you’d think I drove up in Fred Flinstone’s stone jalopy.

I ignore them. Date nights are a rare occurrence these days, and I’m determined to enjoy a Friday night out with my fiancée. Reese had to go to Charleston again—that’s twice in two weeks now—and after she landed in Asheville today, she went right to an exercise class; she wanted to shower at her place afterward, so we’re driving separately.

I saw a valet approach the Mercedes, so I wait by my open door for one to do the same for me.

Even though there are several valets at the stand, none so much as glance my way.

Tugging a hand through my hair, I walk up to the stand.

“I have a reservation inside for two at eight o’clock.” I hold out my keys. “Thank y’all for your help.”