Page 51 of This Time Around (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #3)

A llie handed a cup of chamomile tea to Skye and sat down beside her at her grandmother’s dining room table.

Across from them, Wade peered into his own teacup and swirled it around. “There’s no bourbon in this?”

“Just milk and sugar.” Allie stirred her own brew with one of her grandmother’s tiny teaspoons, then set the utensil on the saucer.

“This looks great,” Skye said as she blew into her own cup. “Not the tea. That looks great, too, but I meant the table.”

“Thanks,” Allie said. “It took a few tries, but I finally got all those scratches out and got the stain pretty close to what it used to be.”

“It’s better, I think,” Skye said. “Warmer. It looks more friendly. More like you.”

Allie smiled as a fluffy orange cat named Matt hopped into her lap and arranged himself across her thighs. He began to knead her with his oversized paws, making biscuits on the knees of her jeans. Allie took a sip of tea and reached for the box at the center of the table.

“You’re still snooping?” Wade asked, making Skye roll her eyes.

“It’s not snooping,” Skye retorted. “It’s her own history. Love letters between her mom and dad and her grandma and grandpa.”

“Or between grandma and one of her many lovers,” Wade pointed out. “Granny got around.”

Skye swatted at him, but Allie wasn’t offended. “I thought it might be creepy, reading all this mushy stuff between family members, but it’s not at all. It’s actually giving me some great insights.”

Wade snorted. “What, like the importance of burning all your dirty secrets before your grandkids find them?”

“No,” Allie said. “That love stories are complicated. No matter how perfect they look from the outside, there are ups and downs and ins and outs and?—”

“Whips and chains,” Wade added helpfully.

Skye gave him another swat, but Wade dodged back this time, so her blow landed on his chest instead of his shoulder. “Nice pecs,” Skye said, patting his chest before she drew her hand back. “Don’t be a jerk.”

“Don’t be a nag,” he replied, snatching her tea cup. He took a small sip, then shuddered as he handed it back to her. “You didn’t get bourbon, either.”

“Are you guys sure you don’t want to get back together?” Allie said, trying to keep the hopeful note from her voice. “You’re pretty much the perfect couple.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Skye picked up one of the sugar cookies Allie had baked earlier that day. “But we’ll be friends forever.”

“The story of my life,” Wade said, not sounding terribly bummed about it.

Still, Allie couldn’t help but wish for the happily-ever-after, even if it wasn’t going to happen. Not for Skye and Wade, and certainly not for her and Jack. After almost two weeks, she’d given up hope.

No, that wasn’t true. She hadn’t given up hope, exactly. She might not ever. Even now, knowing this stupid Pollyanna complex was probably her downfall, she couldn’t help it.

But she had given up calling Jack.

“The place is looking great, Albatross,” Wade said. “You’re pretty close to having it back up and running as a B&B?”

“Getting there,” she said. “My research trip to Seattle went well.”

He raised one skeptical brow. “You sandwiched visits to a cat café in between seeing your mom behind bars?”

“Cornucopia Books is more than just a cat café ,” Skye retorted. “They have a full bar and a gym and endless shelves of books, plus all these adoptable rescue cats just wandering around.”

“I got some good ideas,” Allie said. “The owner, Jonah Porter—he’s a brilliant marketer when it comes to cat-based business planning.”

“Cat-based business planning.” Wade picked up his teacup with a bemused expression. “Perhaps I should consider a new area of legal specialty.”

“Don’t be a dick.” Skye shot him a sweet smile and turned back to Allie. “I think it’s a fabulous idea. All your plans for reopening the bed and breakfast are finally taking shape.”

“That’s the plan,” Allie mused. “It won’t be the same as when grandma ran it, but I think it’ll still be pretty nice.”

“It’ll be better, I think.” Skye leaned down to scoop up a lanky tabby with a swoop of orange fur under his nose that looked like a Hitler mustache. “Especially since these guys all get to stay.”

“You might want to keep Kitler there from creeping into guests’ rooms,” Wade mused. “The Nazi look gives me the creeps.”

Allie ignored him, grateful for the comfort of good friends, good tea, and a whole lot of cats to keep her mind off Jack.

She’d stayed busy in the weeks since he’d walked out of her life.

She’d followed through on her legal obligation to post the money, leaving it to Wade to handle the crazies trying to lay claim to the cash now tucked away in a safe deposit box.

She still wasn’t sure who to believe about the origins of the money, but she had to trust the law to run its course.

She’d also had drinks with Jenna McArthur from Belmont Health System. On Allie’s request, Jenna had brought Mia Dawson, and the three women chatted for hours over glasses of Pinot, discussing everything from healthcare gossip to step-parenting.

“I think it’s great you’re making new friends.” That was Amy—Allie’s old friend from summer camp—who came to visit a few days later, and Allie had caught her up on recent events. “But don’t forget your old ones, okay?”

“Okay.” Allie had nibbled her lip. “I’m sorry. I felt embarrassed and self-conscious, and also you’re so busy with your glamorous life as an assistant producer?—”

“Please.” Amy had scoffed and put a hand over Allie’s. “I promise it isn’t that glamorous. And I always have time for old friends.”

“I love you, Aims.”

“Love you, too, Ally Cat.”

Besides connecting with girlfriends, Allie had made several trips to see her parents.

She’d been helping as much as she could with her dad’s effort to set the record straight in hopes of earning a shortened sentence for Allie’s mom.

She’d had a few long talks with her mother, their hands clenched tight together with a box of tissues on the table between them.

“I love him so much, Allison,” her mother had murmured as she dabbed at the corner of her eyes. “Your father. Even when he did things I didn’t agree with, he’s still the best man I’ve ever known.”

“I get it.” Allie had swallowed hard, still struggling to come to terms with her own feelings about her father. “I love him, too.”

“When you love someone as much as I love your father, you don’t always make the smartest decisions.”

Allie had nodded and handed her mother another tissue. “I know. But you can always try to make better ones once you figure that out.”

But no matter how many talks she had with her girlfriends and parents, no matter how many miles she put on her car or coats of paint she put on walls at the B&B, she still missed Jack.

And Paige, for that matter, much more than she’d expected to.

She thought about them every day, wondering if the girl was settled in at school and if Jack’s company was off and running in the new city.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?”

Allie shook herself back to the conversation, aware that Skye had just asked a question. “What’s weird?” she asked.

“I haven’t heard the woodpeckers all morning,” she said. “Or last night, for that matter. What did you try this time?”

“I haven’t tried anything,” Allie said. “Well, not since the pepper-spray incident.”

Wade snorted into his teacup. “Who knew you had to pay attention to which way the nozzle was pointed?”

“Or that woodpeckers don’t actually have taste buds,” Skye added.

Allie rolled her eyes. “Real supportive, guys.”

Still, Skye had a point. When was the last time she’d heard the woodpeckers?

She’d been busy for several days refinishing the table, working late into the night with earplugs to protect her from the angry buzz of the electric sander.

She hadn’t exactly been listening for the birds.

She started to stand, earning a grumpy meow from the cat on her lap.

“Sorry, buddy,” she said as she set him on the ground. “I have to check something.”

The cat growled and trotted off as Allie headed for the front door.

She pulled it open and stepped out onto the porch, breathing in the scent of mossy earth and the honeysuckle that twined around the porch railing.

Still clutching her teacup, she walked to the end of the deck and looked up at the side of the house.

It took her a moment to realize something was different.

The cedar boards above the front window still looked like they’d been riddled with bullets. But right above that, centered perfectly between the eaves, was a birdhouse.

A hand-painted birdhouse. A hand-painted, pale yellow birdhouse with white, arch-top plantation shutters.

She was still staring up at it when Wade and Skye walked out onto the porch.

“Allie?” Skye touched her elbow. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Look.”

She pointed to the birdhouse and both of them stared up at it.

“Hey, check it out!” Wade laughed as a speckle-chested bird with red markings near its eyes popped out through the front door. “That’s seriously the longest pecker I’ve ever seen.”

Skye snorted. “It’s called a beak, dummy.”

“It’s a woodpecker,” Allie breathed. “He built me a woodpecker house.”

Skye grabbed her hand and squeezed. No one asked who “he” was.

The little bird with the black bib of feathers on its chest squawked once and ducked back inside.

“That’s brilliant,” Skye said. “Give them a house so they’ll leave yours alone.”

“I actually saw that on a nature show once,” Wade said. “Woodpeckers beat the shit out of people’s houses because they’re looking for a place to roost. Give them a safe spot and they’ll leave your house alone.”

Allie looked at him and raised one eyebrow. “You’re remembering this just now?”

“Oops.” Wade shrugged and spun his teacup around in his palm.