Page 87 of Fool Me

CHAPTER

THIRTY

HARLOWE

Every detail of this day has been perfect—from the intimate, heartfelt ceremony that reflected the family my best friend is building with her new husband, to witnessing her renewed bond with her own family blossom. Not to mention, getting to know her found family as they joyfully celebrate the happy couple. It’s been a day of hope for the future.

Watching Vivienne marry Xavier settled something in me too. This isn’t just a new chapter for her, it’s one for me as well. Our friendship is as strong as it’s ever been. She has her life in Denver, I have mine in Timberline Peak, and we’re both happy.

There were moments over the past two years when I felt left behind. But now, I see it was never about Vivienne, or this remarkable group that’s taken her in, it was about me, and how I let my circumstances weigh me down.

I moved to Timberline Peak to be closer to my dad after spending most of my teen years away from him. I poured so much of myself into that reconnection and then into building my new career that I isolated myself without realizing it.

When the avalanche happened, everything shifted. I almost lost him, and while I had every right to be shaken, I let that moment take more from me than it should have. Or, moreaccurately, I let it take root for too long. It’s been nearly two years. I’ll still never forgive Canyon, but I can’t let the anger I have lead me any further down the path it’s taken me on. I don’t want to live a life focused on revenge.

I watch from across the dance floor as Atlas waits at the bar with a grumpy-looking Leo for our drinks.

Life waits for no one—it doesn’t care about your trauma—and I don’t want to miss out on the good things while I’m trying to beat back the bad. Terrible things happen no matter what.

Is it fair? No, but it’s the way things are. I see that through my job all the time.

Tomorrow, when I say goodbye to my best friend and fly home with Atlas, I want a fresh start, one where we can just be without worrying about what people think. My interviews are over and there’s nothing more to be done on that front. I either get the job or I don’t.

I’m emotionally aware enough to know it will hurt if they choose Canyon over me after everything, especially when I firmly believe that, despite the avalanche and my feelings toward him, I’m the better candidate. But that’s not the headspace I want to live in. If that happens, I’ll deal with it and Atlas will be there with me, which makes it all seem a little less daunting.

I’ve been doing things alone for a long time, and I know I could again, but I don’t want to. I want the man walking toward me with two flutes of champagne. More than that, I want to build a future with him that we can both be proud of.

He hands me the flute, sweeping me into his arms and planting a kiss on my temple. “I know I must have told you a thousand times tonight, but you’re so fucking pretty it’s hard to believe that I get to call you mine.”

“Thank you for being here with me. I hope the guys kept you entertained while I did wedding stuff.”

“Very entertained. I’m pretty sure I talked Dom out of adding mini donkeys or llamas to their family. I’m expecting a very nice Christmas present from Indie.” A shiver washes over me when his hand coasts down spine. “But you should know, there’s nowhere else I want to be. If you’re there, I’m there.”

His palm is heavy and warm against the small of my back.

“It just so happens that my obligations to the bride and groom are done for the night. I’m all yours.”

He dips his head and hums against my neck. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours.” I hardly recognize my own voice—it’s breathy and broken. Suddenly, the music is too loud, and the tasting room is too hot.

“I like that way more than I should.”

He’s saying all the right things, and for the first time since we met, the only thing I’m worried about is how good he makes me feel with his sweet words and adoration.

“And I’d like to dance with you,” he continues, but my head is swimming. I don’t want to share a dance with him for everyone else to see. Having Atlas for real makes me want to do selfish things, like steal moments for just the two of us.

“Let’s get out of here for a minute.”

“The night’s not over yet . . . You want to leave?” he asks, but he doesn’t sound upset about the idea.

“No, we’ll be back. I just want a few minutes to ourselves. I haven’t seen you all day, and I just got you.”

He nods. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Ever since you snuck out of bed this morning to have brunch with the girls, I’ve been dying to steal you back.”

Hand in hand, I lead him out of the tasting room, through the back, and away from the noise. “This way,” I say, passing him my flute as we pass an office, dropping his hand to slide the barn door open just enough for us to slip inside. Going first, hefollows before I shut it and lead him down a short, dimly lit flight of stone steps into the barrel room.

I immediately feel better in the cool, serene space.

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