Page 23 of Wedding or Not

This time when he turns away, he keeps walking until he’s out of sight.

CHAPTER 7

A week later, I open my eyes before six in the morning, wide-awake and with my mind whirling.

My first thought is that I need to check email and social media for new inquiries and interest in Blossom Park to ensure all the new activity hasn’t died overnight.

My second thought is that Wes comes back home today.

He’s been in DC at his company headquarters for several days. Although most of his work can be done remotely, he’s called in for meetings at least once a quarter. Normally I appreciate having a few days without worrying about running into him, but this week I’ve been antsy.

Waiting for him to get back.

As much as I’d like to convince myself it’s all because we can’t further The Plan when he’s out of town, I can only lie to myself a certain extent before reality catches up.

I kind of want to see him.

Just for him.

Shaking the thought away since no good can come of dwelling on such things, I reach over to grab my iPad and begin my morning check.

Thousands of new followers since yesterday.

Endless comments and mentions.

A thrilling number of new event inquiries.

When I scan through the schedule, it’s clear that Natalie booked a lot of events yesterday. We’re now completely filled through September, and all the desirable time slots through the winter and into next spring and summer are already booked.

In just over a week, our entire fortunes have changed. Our prices are higher than they’ve ever been. Last Saturday broke our record for the number of regular visitors to the garden, and each day this week, that record has gone up.

Maybe we can do it.

We can climb our way out of the hole. And I’ll never again have to feel that painful mingling of guilt, fear, and despair I’ve been living with for the past six years.

“You awake up there?” That’s Natalie, calling to me from downstairs in a pseudocareful tone. She’s normally a later sleeper than me.

“I’m awake.”

“Coffee? Audrey made it, so it’s good.” Natalie is notoriously bad at making coffee.

“Yes, please!”

Natalie climbs the stairs, carrying two tall mugs. After handing me one, she walks around the bed and climbs under the cover with me.

She’s still wearing a cute knit pajama set with smiling suns on it.

“Why are you awake so early?” I ask her.

“I don’t know. It’s annoying. But I woke up wired and couldn’t go back to sleep. I can’t believe all this is actually happening.”

I’ve propped myself up on pillows, and I tilt my iPad in her direction. “Same with me. Look at all this.”

Together, we review all the online activity that’s safe for me to look at. (I know better than to do searches to see what people are posting about me personally.) We giggle and chat for over half an hour about everything happening with Blossom Park as we finish our coffee.

“It’s so strange to be excited when I look at the schedule instead of that sick, heavy feeling.” Natalie has bigger eyes and wider lips than me, and she’s beautiful even first thing in the morning without makeup and with unbrushed hair.

“I know. I really thought that sick, heavy feeling was going to be my constant companion for the rest of my life.”