Page 6 of All This Time

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 Ihead to the break room, Yvonne follows behind. “I’m being serious. The Laney I know would have shut that downrealquick.”

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.

Chapter 2

Laney

Control, Wine, and Responsibilities

“Honey, I’m home!” Dilynne calls as she walks into my house right after six, just as I’m popping the cork on the bottle of wine I’ve been dreaming about since Yvonne brought up Blossom Peak’s impending visitor earlier.

“Nothing like the smell of rubber and grease to let me know you’re here.” I hold out a glass of wine to her as she kicks off her boots and heads toward the kitchen.

Dilynne Clark and I have been best friends since middle school when she and her brother Henley, one of Rhonan’s other best friends, got placed in a foster home in Blossom Peak. She was sassy and spirited, unapologetically confident, and she sat down in front of me in math class one day, asked me what my name was, and the rest was history.

A few years ago, we moved into two brand new houses built right next door to each other. Even though I love my best friend dearly,living with her would be a disaster. But living close? Perfect. We trade off dinner and wine nights a few times a week, keeping each other sane in this small town.

Part of me dreads the day that either one of us finds a man because we won’t have these nights as frequently. Though, after the past few years of our combined dating history, or lack thereof, I’m beginning to think that won’t be a problem.

“You know you love it. Hell, the smell doesn’t even faze me anymore.”

“Perks of owning an automotive shop.”