God, Wren wasn’t even sure why she didn’t want to tell her sister. Lark had been her lifelong confidant, the person who knew literally every single one of her secrets.
With the exception of what she and Grayson shared that night in the hotel. And Wren wasn’t just thinking about the bed. They’d lain in the dark for nearly an hour just talking, and then, when he’d pulled her close and…
Wren ran her fingers over her lips, and she could swear she still felt the effects of that kiss. That incredible, mind-blowing, sexy kiss.
“No,” she said out loud to herself in the empty apartment. “No more.”
Drawing in a deep breath, she dialed her sister’s number, certain she was already too late with her warning. Stormy Weather Farm was only about a ten-minute drive from the library, so there was no question Grayson was already back home.
“Hey, sis,” Lark said, her voice easy and breezy enough that Wren knew Grayson hadn’t found her yet.
“He knows,” Wren said, dropping down on the couch and shaking her head over her tone. Jesus, could she sound any more horror-movie dramatic with that line?
“What?” Lark asked. The sound of glasses tinkling and soft laughter in the distance told her Lark was still at the winery. Wren could imagine her sister, balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder as she continued to work.
“Grayson. He knows I was the one working the festival. Not you.”
“Oh,” Lark said, her voice suddenly clearer. Apparently, she stopped whatever it was she’d been doing. “Shit.”
That was an understatement.
Wren squeezed her eyes shut. “He came to the library just before closing. Said he knew we’d switched places.”
“I wonder how he found out,” she mused.
“I’m not sure that matters, Lark.” Mainly because she’d already asked herself that question, and the answer she’d come up with was that Wren, herself, must’ve given it away. She’d done a shitty job impersonating Lark at the festival, and since then, she’d continued to get drawn into conversations with him—at the library and the bar. Obviously, it was only a matter of time before he would’ve put things together.
Answering that question for her sister would add yet another emotion—feeling stupid—to the guilt, sadness, and depression currently whirling around inside her.
“Yeah, I guess not,” Lark agreed. “You know what? I’m glad this happened. I’ve been feeling like shit for lying to Nora because she’s a cool boss and she doesn’t deserve that. Honestly, if that weekend hadn’t come right on the heels of her yelling at me, I probably would have just asked her if I could go to the Taylor Swift concert, and knowing her, she would have said yes. It was a dumb thing to do, and I’m so sorry I dragged you into my stupidity.”
“It’s okay,” Wren said. “I was the one who agreed to go along with it.” And she was the one who’d perpetuated the lie in the three weeks since rather than coming clean to Grayson.
The worst thing was the realization that Lark’s comment didn’t hold true just for Nora. If Wren had confessed what they’d done to Grayson during his first—or even second—visit to the library, he might have been understanding too.
“What a tangled web we weave…” she murmured, recalling something her mother used to say whenever she caught one of them in a lie.
“Was he mad?” Lark asked. “I mean, I know he’s a grumpy ass, but he wasn’t mean to you, was he? Because if he was?—”
“He wasn’t mean. He was just…upset with us. He thinks we were playing a joke on him.”
“You didn’t tell him about the concert and why we did it?” Lark asked, clearly surprised.
“He didn’t give me a chance.”
Lark sighed. “This is all my fault, Wren. I’ll smooth things over with the Storms. If they want to yell and scream at someone, it should be me.”
Wren appreciated her sister’s offer, aware that Lark didn’t fully understand why Grayson’s anger had been directed at her. Once again, she considered telling her sister about the kiss. And once again, she rejected that idea.
Telling Lark she’d kissed Grayson wouldn’t actually be a conversation about a kiss. It would involve opening the door on a whole bunch of shit Wren didn’t talk about to anyone except her therapist. But Lark would understand the weight of what that kiss meant. Hell, her sister would know exactly why it was a big deal, and Wren didn’t have the energy or the emotional capacity to delve into all that when…
When she was standing here devastated over what she’d lost.
Not just the budding friendship but the hope of something more.
Something she’d never expected to have or want.
“I’m going to go find Nora right now and confess,” Lark said.
