Page 3 of All This Time (Blossom Peak #1)

“Ah… Speaking of men, how did your date with the guy from Asheville go the other night?”

I cringe. “Not great.”

Yvonne plants her hands on her hips. “What was wrong with this one?”

“As soon as I told him where I’m from, he asked me if I know you-know-who.” Rolling my eyes, I continue. “Like that’s the only thing Blossom Peak is known for.”

Claudia walks by us on her way to her nail station. “Are we talking about Lucifer?"

As my employees gossip about me right in front of me, I glance out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the salon.

From here, I have a great view of The Village, a hub of shops and restaurants in the heart of town lined with sidewalks, iron street lamps, and plenty of trees to provide shade in the warmer months.

Named for the cherry blossom trees that bloom each spring and the peaks surrounding the valley our town sits in just north of Asheville, Blossom Peak boasts some of the best ski slopes in the area and the landscape is full of color throughout the year.

However, as demonstrated by my lackluster date, Blossom Peak is also known for producing one of the most talented wide receivers the NFL has ever seen—a fact I try to forget. Hence why his name is not to be uttered in my salon. It was one boundary I could put in place to help keep me sane.

As I continue to sweep, I admire the décor of my salon—olive green chairs at each station gleaming in the sunlight coming through the tall front windows, white walls that make the space bright and open, black-framed mirrors hung in front of each stylist’s station, and smooth gray floors pulling it all together.

Past the stations on both sides of the room are three separate spaces—one for our nail technicians, one for our massage services, and one for facials and skin care.

I’m proud of what I’ve created, and even if I’m struggling in my personal life, at least I’m killing it in my professional life.

“She’s ignoring us again,” Yvonne says, pulling me back to the present.

I don’t bother lifting my eyes to her. “I’m not ignoring you. I’m just choosing to remove myself from this conversation.”

Yvonne tsks. “Nope. Not until you tell me why every time a man brings up Flet—”

I hold my hand up to stop her. “Say the name and you have to put a dollar in the jar.”

She bats my hand away. “Oh, don’t get your panties in a wad.”

I sigh and pick up the broom again. “My date didn’t want to know anything about me. He just wanted to know if I’d ever met you-know-who and if I knew when he might be in town again so he could casually drop by to try to run into him.”

Yvonne shrugs. “It’s not every day that a small town like ours produces a bona fide celebrity, Laney."

I know Yvonne is right, but it doesn’t mean I have to talk about Fletcher as if I still know him. Once upon a time I did, but that changed quickly and drastically after that night twelve years ago.

Fletcher went on to get drafted to the NFL, fulfilling his dream of playing football professionally and leaving our hometown behind just like he intended. And thanks to his demanding schedule, I’ve only crossed paths with him a handful of times over the years.

There are other reasons he doesn’t visit home often, though. Reasons only I and a few others know about.

Unfortunately, in a matter of hours, I’ll be forced to come face-to-face with the man that not only broke my heart but showed me his true colors in a way that made me question if he was ever really honest with me.

Elliot Thorne, one-fourth of my older brother Rhonan’s best friend group, is getting married in just a few weeks, which means the entire crew will be here, including the man who’s still ruining my dating life, even after all this time.

And because he’s the best man and I’m the maid of honor, I’ll have to pretend like he doesn’t still affect me while performing countless wedding party duties.

Some therapists might say I have suppressed rage and anger I should deal with when it comes to him. That maybe telling him how he made me feel back then would help me move on.

But that would mean admitting how na?ve I was to believe we felt the same about one another, and my pride just isn’t letting me go there—at least not yet.

“Laney? You still in there?” Yvonne reaches over and raps her knuckles on my forehead.

I swat her hand away. “Good gracious. Yes, I’m still here.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Which is?”

“Did you tell your date that Fletcher is actually coming to town tomorrow?”

I shake my head and resume sweeping. “No, and you owe me a dollar.” She just sticks her tongue out at me.

Claudia comes out from her nail room, joining the two of us. “Well, he already booked a manicure with me, so…”

I stop mid-sweep and glare at her. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope.” She pops the p before continuing to smack her gum.

“I guess now’s the time to tell you that he booked a massage with me too,” Yvonne says as she rubs her palms together. “God, I can’t wait to rub that man down with oil.”

“You’re both fired.” I turn my back to them and take the dustpan over to the trash can.

“Oh, please. We all know you need us, honey. And Fletcher booking appointments here is a good thing. It means more business, which means more money. You know, that stuff that keeps this place running?”

“The salon does just fine without him.” I put the broom and dustpan away just as the door opens and Elliot’s fiancé, Tori, comes walking in.

“Tori!” I paste on a smile, grateful for the distraction. “What are you doing here?”

“Laney!” she chirps, barely connecting her fingertips with my shoulder as we attempt to emulate a hug. “I just stopped in to make sure that we reserved spa time for the day before the wedding.”

My brows draw together. “Um, yeah…we did that last month.”

She sighs and smacks her palm to her forehead. “God, that’s right. I’m sorry. I’m just really overwhelmed with this whole thing. That’s why I’m so glad that I have you to keep everything straight for me.”

I grind my teeth together as I smile, fighting to hide my annoyance. “Well, that’s what maid of honors are for, right?”

Yvonne calls out to me as she heads back to her space. “This isn’t over, Laney!”

“Yes, it is!” I yell over my shoulder before turning back to Tori. “What’s going on?”

I lead her over to the waiting area where we take a seat in two of the olive green chairs.

Tori sighs as she stares off to the side. “My boss isn’t being very flexible about the wedding, and it’s stressing me out. Looks like I’m going to be stuck in Nashville most of the time leading up to the wedding.”

I blink slowly. “Okay…”

“It just means I’m going to have to lean on you even more than I already have.” She says it like an apology, but her smile doesn’t exactly seem sorry.

Aggravation builds at my temples, but I breathe it away.

The truth is, I remember Tori from high school, but only vaguely since she was a couple of years ahead of me with my brother and his friends. We never really crossed paths after that, and since Elliot proposed after only six months of dating, there wasn’t much of a chance to get to know her better.

So, when she asked me to be her maid of honor, shock is too soft of a word to describe what I felt. But Tori doesn’t have many girlfriends, and Elliot said it would mean a lot to him if I did this, so here I am, planning this woman’s wedding because she’s too busy to do it, apparently.

I nod like I’m totally fine with this development. “I mean, I’m happy to help however I can…”

She immediately brightens. “Gah! I knew you were the right person for the job.” Her phone chimes in her purse.

She pulls it out, skims the screen, and begins typing, not even bothering to meet my eyes as she continues.

“Elliot and I have been putting together a list of things that you and Fletcher can handle for us leading up to the wedding, which will allow me to focus on work.”

The reminder of having to collaborate with Fletcher makes my jaw clench even tighter, but I shove it down. “Okay.”

She launches herself from the chair, still staring down at her phone. “Excellent. I’ll talk to you soon,” she says, leaving the salon without a backward glance.

Yvonne comes up behind me. “Tell me why you agreed to be her maid of honor again?”

“Because saying no felt…rude.”

“You? Worried about being rude? That’s new…”

I swat at her playfully. “Oh, shut up.”

As I head to the break room, Yvonne follows behind. “I’m being serious. The Laney I know would have shut that down real quick.”

I sigh, pushing open the door. “Well, that Laney has been thrown off-kilter this week, so how about you cut her some slack?”

“Okay, but only if she stops referring to herself in the third person.”

I chuckle. “Deal.”

“God, I can’t wait to see how long it takes for you to crumble under Fletcher’s blue eyes. Either that, or how quickly you slip a laxative in his coffee.”

“Laxatives aren’t a bad idea… Thanks for the suggestion. But as for the crumbling? Yeah, not gonna happen.”

The lie feels dirty leaving my lips because I know from personal experience how those blue eyes of his can suck you in—and how damaging they can be to your heart when they’re full of lies. I’m sure fame hasn’t changed him for the better.

But it has been almost three years since I’ve seen him, and I’ve moved on.

Maybe I’ll find that Fletcher doesn’t have the same effect on me anymore.

Maybe being older and wiser will help me realize that the boy who broke my heart at eighteen is just a part of my past, and I really shouldn’t compare every man that’s come after that to him.

One thing is for sure, though: for the next few weeks I’m going to have to put my aversion of Fletcher Adams aside as a sacrifice for Elliot’s happiness. Because after everything Rhonan’s friends did for me after my world was flipped upside down, it’s the least I can do.