AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She curled her hands into fists, hiding the way they trembled from him. She’d never asked for much from Paul, but she wanted something from him now. She wanted an apology, some recognition of the awful, heartless way he’d left her. But he’d never apologize, and she refused to let him ruin her night. He’d already ruined too many. “Look, I came here to have a nice time. So how about this? I won’t worry about you, and you won’t worry about me. Because we’re over. You’ve moved on, and I’d really like to do the same.”
“I see.” His words were clipped, cold, final.
She rubbed her arms again. “I’m going to go back inside and have some fun. I think I deserve it.”
The wind picked up, whistling through the pines alongside the lodge, but when she walked past him, she thought she heard him say, “You deserve everything.”
Walking back into the dining hall, she shook out her arms, shaking off the confusion and frustration she refused to let swallow her up again. Spotting her across the room, Maude Alice waved her over, dancing with an older Black man Mira recognized from when he’d flipped burgers at Flannelfest. The man had been a resident of Little Timber at the time, and she remembered he had a phenomenal laugh and a habit of using it whenever Maude Alice said anything even remotely funny.
“Mira, this is Clayton Briggs,” Maude Alice said with an incandescent glow. “Clay, this is Mira. She made the cake.”
Stopping his swaying to “Let’s Stay Together” long enough to shake Mira’s hand, Clay said, “I bake too, but nothing like that. You’re a very talented young woman.”
“Thank you,” Mira replied, letting herself keep the grin while Paul led Chrissy out onto the dance floor.
“How’s Linda?” Maude Alice asked her over the music. “I was hoping she’d come. When we talked last week, she’d been considering it.”
Maude Alice and her mom had been close friends for as long as Mira could remember. Now, her visits and their weekly cribbage games were one of the few things that gave Mira time to go grocery shopping while Ian was at school. It wasn’t that her mom couldn’t be left alone. It was just the way it felt like that might change at any moment. And what if, when it did change, Mira wasn’t there? She knew she was being overprotective, but if she didn’t protect her mom and her kid, who would? “She’s doing great,” she said. “But she didn’t feel up to it. She’s hanging with Ian tonight.”
Before Maude Alice could reply, Madigan swooped in, taking her hand as Allison Krauss’s angelic voice filled the room. While Madigan spun Maude Alice away from them, Mira turned back to Clay, accepted his outstretched hand, and placed hers on his shoulder. It was only then, dancing with Clay while they talked about the cake, that Mira saw Cole.
He wandered the periphery of the dance floor, snapping pictures of the guests with his phone, zooming in on Madigan and Maude Alice, Ashley and Conor, Davis dancing with the cute blond kid Mira thought was named Kev. It touched her, the way he’d pulled himself out of the party to capture these memories for Ashley and Madigan, and maybe capture some for himself. Because when his phone centered on her, he kept it aimed there long enough to take several pictures. And she realized that though things hadn’t worked out between her and Paul, that was life. More often than not, things didn’t work out. It didn’t mean thatsheno longer worked.
When the song ended and Maude Alice returned to claim her dance partner, Mira stepped away, acutely aware of Cole coming for her. “I’d better go save the top tier of the cake,” she told Clay and Maude Alice. “Don’t want it to”—she stalled out when he stepped up beside her, his hand sliding across her low back to rest loosely on her hip—“melt.”
“We couldn’t have that,” Maude Alice said with a wink. “Could we?”
Feeling like she’d just gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar—something that happened far too often when a person grew up in a bakery—Mira said, “Ha ha, right,” reached back to loop her arm through Cole’s, and pulled him off the dance floor and toward the cake table.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Cole asked. “I’m sure I did. I must have, since it’s all I can think about.”
Could a person hurt themselves from holding back huge smiles all night? Like a mouth sprain?
“Is everything okay?” he asked, sobering. “I saw Paul go after you when you went outside, and you looked a little shaken when you came back in.”
Stopping at the cake, Mira turned to face him. “He was being weird. But I’m fine.” It surprised her, how true it was. “I just need to put the top of the cake in the walk-in for Ashley and Madigan.”
“The walk-in?” he said, a brow rising with interest. “That sounds hard. Need some help?”
Yep, mouth sprains were definitely a thing. “I think I’ve got it.”
Across the room, Paul spun Chrissy out, twirled her back in, dipped her into a kiss, and Mira watched them, waiting for the ache to hit her, waiting to feel…something. But there was nothing, not until she looked at Cole again. He’d been watching them too, but the way his eyes met hers now? Thatmade her feel something, a tightness at the back of her neck, a current flowing under her skin, flames licking at her throat.
He nodded once, as if coming to some sort of agreement with himself, then said, “I have an idea.” While she held the top of the cake in one hand, he took her other hand in his and met her stare. “Whether you need my help or not, I am following you into that freezer.”
CHAPTERELEVEN
COLE
It only tooka single sideways glance to make sure Paul noticed him following after Mira like a love-sick puppy into the kitchen. Maybe it was a dick move, but with how much it hurthimthat Mira had no choice tonight but to watch her ex and his wife dancing together, he couldn’t imagine what it felt like for her. Sofine, he’d be a dick. Wouldn’t be the first time. Wouldn’t be the last.
Stepping into the freezer behind her, he closed the door and turned around in time to watch her reach up, stretching her body out long to set the cake carefully on one of the upper racks. When she pivoted to face him, her eyes wide, she asked, “So, what was your idea?” her breath making a cloud in the frigid air.
“Sometimes”—he took a step toward her, but only one, because when he did, her fingers curled nervously at her sides—“couples at weddings can get…inspired.”
“Inspired?” Her throat bobbed.
He nodded. “To do things.”
