“Did you thank Weston for me?” Tess asked as she face-planted on her bed, surrounded by vibrant red Cartier boxes and bags. “I know I give him a hard time, but that’s because you’re my girl, and I’d go to battle for you. And I know Paris happened because it was the most convenient option forhimnot to let you venture too far. But it’s still been pretty epic.”
“You’re a little tipsy, huh?” I said, laughing at the dazed expression on her face as she flopped over.
Tess made a snow angel in her shopping bags. “I’m having the best time.”
Warmth settled in my chest, and I couldn’t help being grateful to Weston. He’d put that glowing smile on my best friend’s face.
Would Tess have preferred a week of my undivided attention on a beach while we drank fruity drinks and sunburned? Maybe. But Paris was an experience we’d never have had without Weston—and we most definitely never could have hadthisParis experience without him, because neither of us could have afforded private jets and luxury hotels and top-shelf liquor. And I was ecstatic Tess could have an experience like that at least once in her life. Even if Ididhave to marry my boss to make it happen.
“I did thank him,” I assured her, moving some of her shopping bags to the floor. “And I told him your impression of him has mildly improved.”
She scoffed. “Lena!”
“What?” I said, “It’s true.”
“Okay, Queen Kincaid,” she said as I flopped down next to her. “My God, the fireplace in this room is the size of my living room.”
“I know. The one in my room at Lochbrae is the same size. I could light up a whole Christmas tree in it.” As I studied the elegance of the room, I couldn’t help thinking that I preferred Lochbrae’s more rustic stylings of ancient portraits of men in kilts and the cool medieval suit of armor that Agnes insisted was authentic.
“So, what did he say?” Tess asked, her cheeks flushed.
I rolled onto my side, staring at her. “Who?”
“Weston, when you told him my impression was onlymildlyimproved.”
“Oh,” I said, lowering my voice and laughing a bit. “He was offended. Obviously. But in a playful way, I guess.” And then it got kind of weird. I bit my tongue, keeping that part to myself.
She’s still a little miffed that I married you, that’s all.
Areyou?
What the hell was I supposed to say to that? Even now, I didn’t know.
“Why are you whispering?” Tess asked.
“Sorry,” I murmured. WhywasI whispering? Maybe because talking about Weston like this, when I realized just how much effort he’d put into the weekend for Tess, felt like acknowledging something I couldn’t name.
“Can I see that photo of him again?” she asked. “The one where he’s standing out by the fence.”
I found the photo she was talking about. I’d snapped it of Weston early one morning. He’d been out for a walk around the property with Milo, kitted up in his hiking trousers and a long-sleeved gray shirt with his sleeves rolled up. There were muddy pawprints on the front of his shirt where Milo had jumped on him.
“Yeah,that’s the one,” Tess said, impressed. “CEO by day, Scottish rancher by night. Like a superhero. Does he spend a lot of time rescuing damsels in distress?”
“Do you mean, is he my own personal Bonnie wrangler?” I quipped. “Because yes, he is. It’s the least he can do for his fake wife.”
Tess tilted her head, regarding me with another one of those funny looks. “You’re living like you’re in some sort of fairy tale.”
I snorted. “Life is too busy for this to be a fairy tale. I still have too many meetings with Houston in my calendar and an entire summer festival to plan so the town warms up to the thought of Kincaid Energy moving in with the wind farm project.” I rubbed my eyes. “And so many of Pete’s affairs to still sort through with Weston. If this was a fairy tale, I’d be frolicking in the sheep pastures with a margarita.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t say ‘lounging in bed with a pizza andHearts of the Highlandson repeat.’”
“That would work too,” I said, the corner of my mouth twitching. “Though I feel like I’m getting enough of the Highlands in my real life right now.” Sure, it may not have been a fairy tale that I was living in the castle, but in the quiet moments, when it was me and Weston holding hands to sell this marriage, it felt like a fantasy.
Then I’d blink and the fantasy would disappear.
“How are things going as Mrs. Kincaid, anyway?” Tess was saying as I broke from that line of thinking.
“What do you mean?”
