Page 4 of Red, White, and You

And it’s that tug in my gut, that deepknowingwithout truly knowing that decided the outcome long before I admitted it to myself. The signs are all there. From the name of the camp to the number of the cabin…

The unmarked envelope, hand-delivered by courier. Inside the envelope was the flier and a small, bright green Post-It note attached to it that read:

Paid in full. Cabin 17.

My favorite number. The day I met my ex-husband.

“You’re doing this, aren’t you?” Chris asks.

Of course I am. It’s so obviouswhy, but I can’t tell Chris. She doesn’t even know about my marriage, first of all, and second, I don’t want to speak my assumptions out loud for fear that I’m wrong. For fear that I’ll go there andhewon’t. For fear that I’ll make this leap and Brady won’t be waiting for me within Cabin 17.

But I have to know—and there’s only one way to find out.

Tightening my fingers around the strap of my duffel, I brace myself for what I’m about to do, then give her one curt nod. “I’ve lost my mind, haven’t I?”

But even as I say that, I know it’s not true. Insanity was leaving Brady West in the first place. Returning to him might be the most sound decision I’ve made in my forty-three years of life.

So, on the off chance that this invite is from my ex-husband, I can’tnotgo.

Brady

With no way of knowing when or evenifshe’ll show, my chest is a tight knot of anxiety—a rare feeling that I’m not a fan of. But this woman has always been able to make mefeel; whether pleasure or pain, Brielle Donovan-West heightened all of my senses, amplified every experience. She’s a tornado, my ex-wife, a force to be reckoned with. She changes worlds with a look, alters lives with a word. She turned mine upside down the second she walked into it.

Then she absolutely decimated it the day she left.

I’ve never been the same.

And there’s absolutely no way she’ll show.

The cabin number is way too obvious. Even after all this time apart, choosing Cabin 17 was a dead giveaway, wasn’t it? A glaring neon sign that told her exactly who was responsible for the invitation. Add to that the fact that I gave the camp my last name…

Would knowing that I’m behind this make her want to come… or stay away?

It’s the unknowing that has me unable to sit still. An itch that can’t be scratched.

I groan as I pace the small cabin, scanning the space to make sure I’ve set everything up perfectly. I check the cabinet in the bathroom again, ensuring—and not for the first time—that I’ve supplied her with all of the things she once loved. Her favorite face cream from La Mer, assuming she still uses it; a plethora of eye masks; a bottle of makeup remover with the little cotton pads she always had tucked beneath the sink…

A vase of fresh flowers sits on the bathroom counter, peonies in various shades of pink…

Brand new linens hang from every towel rod. The bed has been outfitted with bedding and sheets with price tags that made my eyes bulge…

Little touches and details that now make me question myself.

This was a stupid idea.

She’s not going to come.

If she’s anything like the woman I’ve read about over the years—a workaholic who eats, sleeps, and breathes success in everything she sets out to do—a summer camp for adults is her worst nightmare. I can only imagine the look on her face when she opened her mail and saw the brochure. Surprise, undoubtedly, quickly followed by disgust. She probably thought it was a prank, a poor excuse for a joke made by one of her colleagues. The formidable Brielle Donovan-West taking a week off toplay?

Unheard of.

Jesus, I’m an idiot. Why did I think this would work? She’s not the girl I fell in love with anymore. Chances are, she’s not even the career-driven woman who left me because our differences grew too monumental to conquer.

ThisBrielle is the CEO of a highly regarded law firm. A cutthroat attorney who has never lost a case.

She’s not going to frolic in the forest.

And sending the invitation anonymously? Fuck me, that’s just creepy. I should have picked up the phone and called. Like a normal, non-creepy person.

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