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I grabbed her shoulder and spun her back to face me. “We’re not going to talk about ribbon right now,” I spat.
“You’re about a minute behind on your shock, Shelby. I’m over having to tell you about Wilder.”
“I was listening all along,” I muttered.
“Wilder Presley is back in Adams, Shelby Lyn, and you look like you saw a ghost.”
I glared at Missy. “I heard you the first time you said it.”
Missy cackled. “Second time I said it, you heard, but I had to repeat it because the look you get when I say his name says so much.”
I didn’t get a look when she said his name. There was no reason why I would get a look.None.“Where is Jack with my ribbon?” I grumbled.
“So you’re just going to act like I didn’t tell youtheWilder Presley is home?” Missy smirked. “You can’t act like this with me, Shelby. You told me what you said the day he left.” She wagged her finger in my face. “I have known you for nineteen years and one hundred ten days.”
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t acting anyway, just like I hadn’t had a look when she said Wilder’s name. “And this isn’t his home,” I insisted. “When you leave for more than nine years, the place you go to becomes your home.”
“Is that a rule?” Missy questioned.
“Here ya go,” Jack called. He held up three rolls of black ribbon. “These are the last of them.” He made his way to me, and I grabbed the rolls from him.
“Thanks.” I nodded to the orange ribbon. “I need to grab a couple of rolls of orange. I’ll meet you at the register.”
Jack nodded. “Sounds good.”
I grabbed two shades of orange and hoped they would work for the wreath, but my mind was too wound up about Wilder to even notice what I grabbed.
“Shelby,” Missy called.
My eyes darted to her. “What?”
“What is going on in that head of yours right now?” she demanded.
I shrugged and dropped the orange ribbon into my basket. “I think I have two days to finish this wreath, and then I need to start thinking about the Christmas wreaths for the church while I work on the twenty other orders I have for fall or Halloween wreaths. I’m busy, Missy.”
Missy tipped her head to the side and crossed her arms over her chest. “You are so full of shit, girlfriend. The man you had a crush on all of your life is back in town, and you’re going to tell me you’re thinking about wreaths? That you didn’t tell him you loved him?”
I nodded my head. “Yes, you will believe that because you are my best friend, and you know I don’t want to have this conversation at the craft store. And I told him I loved him as a friend. It was a “Have a great life, buddy. I love you.” Turning on my heel, I headed to where Jack stood behind the check-out counter.
“You know I’m just going to come over to your house after I get off of work,” Missy called after me.
I raised my hand over my head. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Missy.” Missy had been my best friend for almost twenty years. She had moved to Adams when we were both ten and had become one of my close friends that summer.
“You want wine or hard booze?” she asked.
I needed a damn tranquilizer if what she had told me was true. “Bring the Southern,” I replied.
“Woo, wee,” Missy chuckled. “This is going to be a fun night.”
I rolled my eyes and set my basket on the check-out counter. “You wouldn’t by chance have a bottle of booze behind the counter, would you, Jack?” I blew my hair out of my face and sighed.
“Uh, well, I think my dad might have a bottle hidden in his office,” Jack stammered. “I could see if I could get you a glass.”
Oh, sweet Jack. He was just a little too naïve for his good.
I nodded to the basket. “I think I can make it home without a glass. Thank you, though.”
Jack looked visibly relieved.
