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Andy definitely hadn’t packed this bag.
Thea’s tag adorned most of the clothing, and I recognized the name of Bunny’s favorite shop on some others. All the pieces in the bag were meant for an actual newlywed, not someone who needed hotel breakfast attire to face their fake husband downstairs.
Thankfully, I found a robe hidden at the bottom and pulled it on. It wasn’t exactly the sweats and oversized shirt I preferred to wearing the morning, but still acceptably modest.
I walked down the stairs, following the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of soft jazz music into the kitchen. Andy stood by the sink, his eyes fixed on the window into the backyard, the morning sun filtering in and hitting his face. I sucked in a breath.
Devastatingly handsome. That’s what Thea had called him, and I agreed.
He wore a loose-fitting pair of sweats that hung low on his hips and a skin-tight shirt that outlined every muscle on his toned body. A faint hint of blonde scruff peppered his chiseled jawline overnight, softening his face. I could almost imagine waking up next to him: dreamy azure blue eyes and tousled hair.
How did he not have a girlfriend?
I’d never outright asked the question. Andy had always been polite and kind, but unattainable. I envisioned him with a startlingly beautiful woman who spoke seven languages, had a corner office, and went to lunch with her equally stunning and accomplished friends. He didn’t date women who made minimum wage and lived in apartments with leaky sinks and past-due collections notices—women like me.
I shook any thought of Andy’s love life, or lack thereof, out of my head and cleared my throat.
“You’re up early,” Andy said, turning from the window. He smiled, eyes dropping to my robe before his cheeks went pink.
I followed his gaze, finding that the modest robe in the darkened bedroom turned sheer in the bright kitchen. Fantastic. I sighed deeply, pulling it tighter.
He cleared his throat. “Bunny came by with breakfast.” He nodded toward the breakfast nook in the corner of the room as he turned to the coffee maker. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Do you have any creamer?” I asked. He frowned, and I waved a hand. “Sugar is fine.”
I wedged myself into the corner of the nook. At least I’d kept my undergarments on. Andy could lend me a shirt and pants to get back to my apartment for some proper clothes.
“How are you feeling?” He placed a cup of coffee and a glass of water in front of me.
“A little rough,” I admitted. “How badly did I make a fool of myself yesterday?”
He shook his head, sliding in opposite me. “Not even a little. Besides, even if you were hammered, which you weren’t, the hot topic of conversation was one of Bunny’s friends making out with the bartender.”
I shook off any residual embarrassment, my eyes widening. “Wait, are you talking about Cornbread? And which friend?”
“The guy with the tattoos is named Cornbread? I don’t know the woman. Red hair, my age, maybe a little older.”
“Jenny? Jenny made out with Cornbread?”
“I guess?” he answered, unsure.
I sipped my coffee, cocking my head. “How have you managed to live in Franklin Notch for so long without knowing anybody?”
He shrugged. “I lived in Franklin Notch, but I never reallylivedhere, if that makes sense.”
It did. His parents might have had a Franklin Notch address, but their country club and Mason’s lodge membership were in Pierce. The richest family in Franklin Notch chose to spend their time and money in Pierce, a town that capitalized on the fleeing mills rather than following them into bankruptcy.
“Right. Well, sadly, your wife is a townie.” Andy tensed and the smile on my lips faltered. “Not what you signed up for?”
“No.” He shook his head, “That’s not it. I just…”
“Don’t want me calling myself your wife? I guess it’s weird when it’s just the two of us.” I opened the pastry box, picked out a cinnamon roll, and placed it in front of me. The morning had already proved awkward enough. I hadn’t meant to make it worse.
“That wasn—”
Embarrassment prickled at me, and I cut him off. “Do you want some of this? Where do you keep your plates? I should get a knife, too. I probably shouldn’t dredge up all that alcohol with something sugary, but I’m not about to head out looking like this.” I gestured down at the sheer robe, immediately wishing I hadn’t. “Which reminds me, can I borrow some clothes so I can pack for our trip? I can’t wear anything in the bag Bunny packed.”
“Sure,” he said. “I’d love half if you’re offering. Knives are under the coffee maker. Plates are to the right of the sink.”
