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Maybe he would beg her to stay.
After the show last night, people had crowded around her. Brodie and his wife, Abby, Jeremy, Ben…so many excited faces, so much excitement about the “phenomenal” performance. Lorelei’s manager had sent a text message.
Leslie: I couldn’t stay for the show—had to take care of my girl—but I watched it onEntertainment Todayand the clips on social media. You stepped in when Lorelei needed you, and we can’t thank you enough.
She’d tried to text back, but it had neither shown as delivered nor read, so she assumed she’d been blocked. Lorelei and Leslie had put the festival behind them.
Now, it’s my turn.
Last night, Jaime had hugged her. He’d kissed her cheek. He’d praised her, but he hadn’t asked her to stay. Hadn’t even brought up her plans at all.
She stared at her empty suitcase. She’d opened her drawers, pulled shirts and dresses off hangers, but she hadn’t actually packed anything.
Half of her wanted to run over to his cabin and demand he tell her what he was thinking. She was deeply hurt. She was angry. How could a man go from wanting to spend his life with someone to letting her go in the space of four days?
The other half understood. He’d seen his friend’s body twist in the sudden gust of turbulence. He’d witnessed Booker hit the ground, and the scene replayed in his mind on repeat.
She thought he’d gotten past the worst of it, but if he could discard her so readily, he hadn’t.
He doesn’t want me enough to fight off his demons.
What about Kinny’s croquembouche?
Her heart ached for all she’d lost.
Well, if she couldn’t make the birthday cake, she could at least give the little girl a special present to remember her by. As she dusted off the beloved Renzo’s red apron her great grandfather had worn, she wondered for the hundredth time if she was being too hasty.
Jaime was at the rink right now, at a team practice to help the new goalies acclimate to the players. She could head over and talk to him, at least give him a chance.
Her phone blared with Lorelei’s “My Mama” song, and an unexpected wave of affection crashed over her. She grabbed it. “Mom?”
“Grace, sweetheart. I want to talk to you.”
The dire tone had her plunking her ass on the arm of the couch. “What’s wrong? Is Dad all right?”
“He’s fine. Why would you ask such a thing?”
“You sound so serious. Not to mention, you rarely call.”
“Oh, come on. You know I don’t like the phone. Besides, I’m busy. How on earth can I run Renzo’s and be on the phone with every cousin, kid, and uncle?”
“But I’m not every cousin, kid, or uncle, Mom. I’m me.”
“Where is this coming from?” Her mom’s tone softened. “You’re my baby girl.”
“I know. I’m not feeling all that great right now.”
“Are you sick? I don’t want you traveling when you’re not well. Can you stay a few more nights in that cabin? Or I can get you a hotel. You want me to get you a hotel?”
“No, Mom. I’m not sick. Thank you, though. What’s going on? Why did you call?”
Her mom gave a bitter chuckle. “Well, hang on. Let’s make something very clear. I do love you, Grace. Very much. Now, why aren’t you feeling great?”
She’d always been open with her mom. The only reason she hadn’t told her about Jaime was because she knew it would make her worry. Her mom’s greatest fear was having one of her children leave the family, and what was a stronger motivator for that than falling in love? “I fell for a guy. Pretty hard.”
“Yeah.” Her mom sighed. “That’s what I figured. Why else would you stay away for nearly three months?”
“Because I love what I do. Because I’m celebrated here. I’ve loved every minute of it.”
