“Spin it what way?”
He hesitated, guilt shadowing his eyes. “The whole ‘resilient Americana’ angle. The quaint tourist town that’s fighting tostay relevant. I guess they wanted someone who could… get in behind-the-scenes.”
My throat tightened. “So you’re saying it was just a coincidence that I happened to live in the town your magazine’s about to dissect?”
It wasn’t fair. I knew that. He never claimed that he came back for me, just that he stumbled across an old flame that still happened to have a spark. But he fact remained: he was on a mission to destroy the town I loved.
The town that, despite all its flaws, was a part of me.
“Margot.” His voice softened. “You think I’d come back here if it wasn’t—”
“Miss Wade!”
I flinched as the wedding coordinator appeared at my elbow—sleek ponytail, clipboard, the faintest whiff of disapproval. She assessed us both through a steely, narrowed gaze, like we were nothing more than misplaced centerpieces.
“There you are. They’re calling the bridal party for the head table.”
“Right.” I stepped back, grateful for the interruption. “I’m coming.”
“Of course you are,” she said crisply, already pivoting toward the far side of the terrace.
When I looked back, Teddy watched me with an expression that twisted my insides—frustration, affection, and something dangerously close to regret.
The reception was halfway to full swing by the time I found my seat. Candlelight flickered against champagne flutes, the bay below glittering with slivers of moonlight until it disappeared in a black horizon. Everything smelled faintly of roses and mingled clouds of cologne and perfume.
The string quartet transitioned to a jazz trio, and Jesse’s parents sat at the end of the second table, flanked by the kind of people who thoughtsummerwas a verb.
Serena glowed—a soft gold version of herself in lace and pearls. Beside her, Jesse was the billboard for easy charm, laughing just a bit too loud, his hand always finding her shoulder or the back of her chair.
I tried not to notice Teddy, hovering near the edge of the terrace with his camera, catching candid shots of the picture-perfect smiles and tight-lipped conversations. Every time the flash went off, my pulse jumped.
“Margot!” Serena’s voice cut through my thoughts. “I believe I forgot to tell you how beautiful you look.”
She meant it, too—she always did. Serena had this effortless way of making everyone around her feel like the main character, even when she was the bride-to-be. It was also her way of resetting the stage after an argument, pretending harmony could be restored with a compliment and a smile.
“Thank you,” I said, forcing a smile of my own. “You look—”
“Like I’m in desperate need of a proper meal?” she finished with a grin.
“Exactly that.”
We both laughed, and for a moment, the tension in my chest began to loosen.
Then Jesse leaned in, his tone saccharine. “You’re the hometown writer, right? Serena’s told me all about your book. What was it called again?”
Perhaps he was only acting like we hadn’t met twice already. Or, maybe, he was so far gone that he barely had any grasp on reality anymore. Judging by his drooping eyelids and unfocused stare, I would’ve put my money on the latter.
“The Bluebell Kind,” I replied.
“Right.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Charming title. A memoir, isn’t it?”
“More of a reflection.”
“Hmm.” He sipped his whiskey, then tilted his head. “That’s fascinating. I’ve always admired people who make a living airing their personal laundry in print. Takes guts.”
Serena’s eyes flicked between us, a silent plea.
“It’s not really about me,” I said lightly, fighting to keep myinsidethoughts from spillingoutsidefor the second time that evening. “It’s about community. The kind of thing that’s hard to find in a big city.”
