Page 10 of Sundown Somewhere

“You’ll have your update by the end of the day,” I say, looking straight at Gus.

“I know. And if it’s later this week, that’s fine too.”

“And Wills,” I add. “Carve out time for me at some point. We need to chat about Project: Second Star. I think I finally have a design.”

“Project: Second Star?” Anton questions.

“None of your business,” Willa shuts him down before he can continue.

“Maybe I just want to know what happened to the first star…”

I roll my eyes, turning to go, leaving that one to her. The first star isn’t important. Technically, the second star isn’t either; it’s what comes after that.

4

DOLLY

Whoever said that the more things change, the more they stay the same, wasn’t kidding.

They should also be shot.

Because, seriously, the more things change, the more they stay the fucking same—making today like any other morning. And not the day that I should be returning to town as a married woman.

Ding!

“Order up!”

Nico’s voice covers the fading trill of the bell, the harsh metallic sound still ringing in my ears, cutting through my thoughts. Pity party, actually. Because despite the fact that it’s been nine days since my wedding that wasn’t, I’m not over it. Which I think is fair.

I did get left at the altar.

If Jeff really had been thinking that I wasn’t “wife material,” he could have brought it up a lot sooner than twenty minutes after I was supposed to be walking down the aisle.

Still, the world seems to have moved on without a care. Oh wait, that’s right, they did. Simply moved on about their business. Which is why I’m right back here with all my regulars. Because the town ROMEOs—Retired Old Men Eating Out—certainly weren’t going to eat their breakfast at home. And God forbid the Sunshine Seekers—the group of twenty-something female townies that walk in to start gossiping the second I flip the open sign—have to find another meeting place.

Plus, then how would they be the first to find out the real reason behind my botched wedding?

I suppose maybe not everyone has moved on without a care. The rumor mill is still moving at quite a pace.

Grabbing the order Nico pushes through the small window, I glance down at it, knowing without looking at the tab next to it who it belongs to. Three eggs sunny side up—extra sunny—with fried onions, ham, home fries, and rye toast. There is only one person in this town who wants his eggs all but raw. Thank goodness.

I shudder, trying not to think about the grossness on the plate I’m carrying, grabbing a bottle of hot sauce as I round the corner of the diner counter, knowing he’ll want that too. This man’s love of Cholula borderlines adultery, and I can’t help but wonder what his wife thinks about it.

“Mr. Hovland,” I greet, slinging the plate in front of him, pretending I don’t see both the yolks and the whites jiggle. “Are you officially a ROMEO now? You’ve been here an awful lot lately…”

Sitting up straighter in his chair, our retiring town pharmacist beams, the impish gleam in his eye not offsetting the fact that he resembles Elmer Fudd—short, balding, and round in the middle.

“Well, now that Brenna has taken over the store, I have some more flexibility,” he explains. “Finally get to join the boys on a more regular basis.”

Right…

I nod, perfectly able to read between the lines. Having run Hickory Hills Drug for all my life, Mr. Hovland solidified himself as a major cog in the gossip mill, and this is his new source. Because the old men of this town talk just as much as the old women. Maybe more.

“I’m sure the boys are happy you’re here,” I comment, catching Judge Robinson nodding out of the corner of my eye as I turn to go. That’s enough small talk for now.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your wedding,” he adds, sucking me back in.

Fuck…