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She’s right. Bran isn’t a game player, I sensed that right away, after our first chat in the pub after the festival. And neither am I. I’m not the sort of woman who ghosts, no matter how upset I am.
Pulling in a bracing breath, I compose a text to Bran—Congratulations on your acquisition. I know you’ll make a lovely park for the community to enjoy. Sorry I bolted this morning without telling you that in person. I had a wonderful time with you the past few days, I just needed a little time alone to process. Stay in the room as long as you want, by the way. There’s no one checking in tomorrow. And again, congrats and best wishes.
I read the text aloud to Nancy, who agrees it’s mature and kind, and then hit send. Heart fluttering in my chest, I put the kettle on for coffee and more ginger tea for Nancy, and nervously await Bran’s response.
I check my phone as I’m dribbling water over the fancy pour-over carafe Nancy uses for coffee and again after I finish my cupcake, but there’s nothing. Not so much as a thumbs up on my message.
I check after our first episode of Downton Abbey ends and halfway through the second, when Nancy pauses the show to warm up some more broth, but silence reigns.
My stomach continues to sink and my chest to ache until, just after episode three, my cell dings in my pocket.
Breath held, I pull my phone out to see a new message from Bran that reads—Thank you. I had a wonderful time, too. I hope you’re well, wherever you are. I went back to my family’s place. It felt like that was the smart thing to do. Best wishes to you, too and…I’ll see you around town, I guess. Take care.
“He’ll see me around town,” I repeat after I’ve conveyed the message to Nancy, my stomach now in full-on knots. “That’s it! Three days of whirlwind romance and lobster and acrobatic banging and he’ll ‘see me’ around town.”
“But he also said to take care,” Nancy reframes. “And that he hopes you’re well. He’s probably just playing it safe until he sees if you’re open to continuing the courtship.”
I roll my eyes. “It wasn’t a courtship. It was sex.”
“Sorry, I’ve been watching too much historic television,” she says. “But I’m also not sure you’re right. From everything I’ve heard, Bran is a relationship guy.”
“Except with me,” I say, sinking back into the cushions. “But that’s fine. I don’t want a relationship anyway, not with the man who took my ski hill and couldn’t be bothered to see my side of the story. I can’t get past the whole ‘he could have had any mountain, why take the one right next to my resort,’ thing, Nance. It’s a romance buzzkill of the highest order, no matter how much the stupid parts of me are dying to see him again.”
Her forehead furrows with sympathy. “I understand. That would be hard for me, too. But I’m guessing his stubbornness is coming from a good place. He really wants to make something fabulous for Jingle Bell Junction, to prove he’s more than a rich city slicker who profits from this place, that he’s really part of the community, you know? It’s complicated.”
I sigh. “But you know what isn’t complicated? Cheesecake. Would it be wrong to take a piece out of your freezer and thaw it out? Even though I’ve already had a cupcake?”
“No, it wouldn’t be wrong. It would be what you deserve on a day like today. On big loss days, calories and worries about good nutrition don’t exist.” She rises from the couch. “I’ll have one with you. I’m feeling much better after remembering to eat second lunch.” She crosses to the fridge. “And you can stay over tonight if you want. We can binge more British T.V. and have girl time. Elliot’s out of town on business until tomorrow evening.”
“Thanks,” I say, gratitude for her sweet friendship banishing some of the ache in my stomach. “That would be great. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Then you don’t have to be,” she says as she fetches the cheesecake from the freezer. “Now come pick your slice. Unless you wanted the cherry topped one. That’s mine. I claim it in the name of Baby who has suddenly developed a craving for cherries.”
“And what Baby wants, Baby should have,” I say, joining her at the island. “I’m happy with blueberry or strawberry. Or both if I’m honest. Defeat makes me hungry.”
“You mean a new challenge makes your hungry,” Nancy says, sliding all three pieces onto a plate she sticks in the microwave to defrost. “That’s all this is—a new challenge you’ll figure out how to face in time. You just need to give your brain time to marinate on the problem and come up with solutions, but you’ll get there. No doubt.”
I wish I had her faith in me.
And I wish my brain would marinate on business instead of Bran Ratcliffe, but as the night wears on, it’s Bran’s face I keep seeing on my mental screen and when I go to sleep in Nancy’s guest room, it’s his arms I wish were holding me tight.
I’m starting to wonder what I’m really broken up about—losing the mountain or the man—and what, if anything, I can do about that.
It might just be too late, too complicated, too…not meant to be.
ChapterEleven
BRAN
Two Weeks Later
Valentine’s Day
My cell rings, making my heart leap with hope until I see Chase’s name on the display, and it slides back down into my churning guts.
It’s not Kayley.
It’s never Kayley, but that doesn’t stop my chest from tightening every time a call or text comes through.
