“I know,” I whispered, but not before flushing at the sudden proximity.
I really needed to stop acting like a lovestruck teenager around him. It was getting out of hand.
Serena turned, catching our expressions. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah,” I retorted. “If your dream wedding involves the smell of starch, hair gel, andmoney.”
“Margot,” she warned.
“I’m just saying, this doesn’t look like your vision.”
Her mouth opened, then closed again.
The planner sent me a disapproving glare and led us through more rooms—the cocktail lounge, the bridal suite, and the terrace bar. Serena nodded and smiled in all the right places, but her eyes were elsewhere.
When the tour ended, she thanked the planner and promised to “think about it,” which was Serena-code for,“No, but I’m too polite to say it out loud.”
As we walked back to the car, she sighed. “It’s too...”
“Then tell Jesse that,” Teddy encouraged.
“It’s not that easy,” she breathed. “He has a certain vision too, and I don’t think it’s right for me to ignore it.”
When we piled back into the car, I palmed the flyaways on my scalp and clicked my seatbelt in place. “Have you ever heard of compromising?”
No one said a word as Teddy turned the ignition and the engine roared to life.
“I don’t really care, honestly,” Serena whispered, peering outside at the maple trees as we pulled back down the drive. “As long as I get to marry Jesse.”
Teddy met my eyes in the rear view again, and he shook his head. He was right—it wasn’t the right time. Confrontation, to Serena, might as well have been the same as chugging a bottle of poison.
Afterward, none of us wanted to go home yet, so Teddy suggested grabbing lunch at the marina.
The Catch was small and casual—flowers climbing the shiplap walls out front, the faint clatter of fishing boats rocking against the docks. Compared to the touristy heart of Bluebell Cove, it offered an off-the-beaten-path alternative when the locals needed a breather. For the most part, it was frequented by whatever fishermen wandered down to the Cove from Port Camden.
We sat at a table overlooking the water, separated by a thin sheet of vinyl that blocked the frigid ocean gusts.
Serena scrolled through her phone, half-listening while Teddy told a story about almost falling into a tide pool of sea urchins on a shoot a couple months ago.
I watched him absently as he talked—hands animated, eyes bright, entirely oblivious to the elephant-sized butterflies stomping through my stomach. The years had filled in the sharpness of his features, given him a quiet confidence he didn’t have at eighteen, or even twenty-two. He still laughed the same, though, head tilted back, eyes crinkling at the corners.
And I resented the fact that I couldn’t look away.
“So,” he said suddenly, turning to me. “I still have your coat at the house. Would you like it back?”
I wanted to say that it was less of a house than it was a palace, but I bit my tongue.
“Are you holding it hostage?” I quipped.
“Maybe I am.”
I arched my brow. “What are the terms of its release?”
“I’m still working out the details.” He grinned. “But I’m considering something along the lines offorced quality time.”
Serena strained for a subtle glance at me, still glued to her phone.
