Page 94 of The Wish List
“You said you didn’t do relationships,” she reminded him. “If that’s what you want, then I...”
“What?” he demanded. “You’ll change your plans for me?”
She wanted to tell him she’d changed everything. These past few weeks with him had already changed her. “Magnolia and Nashville aren’t that far apart,” she offered, the words sounding lame even to her ears. “It’s a day’s drive. We could have weekends where—”
“I don’t want a casual weekend relationship with you, Beth. I made a grand gesture.” He held up his hands to indicate the bar.
“But you didn’t ask me if it’s what I wanted. Do you know how much of my life I’ve spent with people making choices that I had to work around?”
“You wanted someone to depend on. I’m ready to be that person if you’ll let me.”
In truth, Beth didn’t know what she wanted. Ever since the end of her marriage and even before that, she’d been making choices based on not only other people’s criteria but things she thought were right for her without really checking in with herself to know that they were what she wanted.
“I can’t.” She wished she could give him something else. “Not like this. If you could—”
“I won’t change my plans again.” Declan’s tone was as frigid as the ocean water at the beach in winter. “I thought this would make you happy.”
It should, but all of Beth’s fears about relinquishing her power to choose a future that worked for her came rushing back. Drowning her with doubt and regret. Why had she thought she could make a go of it with Declan? It wasn’t him who was the problem. The past had broken her, and she didn’t know how to overcome it.
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I don’t think I know how to be happy.”
She sucked in a breath as her declaration hung in the air between them. It was the most honest thing she’d ever shared with another person, but it didn’t make things different. It couldn’t fix what was broken inside her.
“Good luck in Nashville,” Declan said, his voice devoid of emotion. “I hope you figure it out.”
Me, too, Beth thought but didn’t say the words because they might genuinely break her open.
Instead she turned for the door before the tears rising fast and furious to her eyes blinded her.
“Merry Christmas, Declan,” she whispered on her way out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“WOULDYOUDAREto wear this dress if you were me?” Freya glanced from Mr. Jingles to survey herself in the mirror hanging on the closet door in her childhood bedroom the day after Christmas. She did not like the person she saw staring back at her.
Her mother’s cat, who was sleeping at the foot of her bed, yawned and began to clean his toe beans, dismissing both Freya and her wardrobe conundrum. She was getting ready to leave for the open house Garrett Dawes had invited her to and wore a skin-tight and ruched black bandage dress that would have made the Kardashian sisters proud.
The sheath didn’t reveal much skin but left even less to the imagination. As the producer on the reality show segment noticed, Freya had put on weight during her time in Magnolia, making the dress even more body hugging.
She wasn’t ashamed of her curves, but the past few weeks showed her that her body and the image the public wanted her to portray weren’t all she had to offer. After the argument with Beth, she’d made the mistake of retreating into her room and checking the reactions to her segment on the reality holiday special.
Some were kind, praising her for showing a more genuine side of herself in her hometown. The ones she couldn’t get out of her mind were the harsh comments, from snarky remarks about the modest dress to her weight gain. Armchair critics seemed to have no problem trolling her for being dull without some sort of drama to make her more interesting.
Freya wished she weren’t affected by the cruelty, but she couldn’t lie—at least to herself.
If she couldn’t change her reputation, she might as well lean into it, which had led her to choose the form-fitting dress for the party. She’d likely stick out like a sore thumb with the hardware store crowd, and maybe that’s what she needed to remind herself she didn’t fit into this close-knit, quaint town. The sooner she stopped trying to, the better.
“You’re going to make me cry with jealousy,” Trinity said, cradling her son in her arms as Freya descended the steps.
Trin had been almost preternaturally bubbly since the blow-up on Christmas Eve. May had been subdued yesterday and spent most of the day in bed, using the excuse that she needed to rest. Beth hadn’t made an appearance other than a text to say she wasn’t feeling well and wishing each of them a happy holiday.
It wasn’t like their older sister to bail when May expected something, and their mother had certainly wanted all of them together for Christmas. As irritated as Beth made Freya, she respected her sister for standing her ground on something. Freya just wished it hadn’t been Christmas and that her manuscript hadn’t been part of the incident. She didn’t want to fight with Beth any longer.
Freya ran her hands along her hips and flashed Trinity a demure smile. “Just something I found in the back of my closet.”
“You look way too big-budget for a town like Magnolia.”
The dress might be expensive, yet Freya’s smile wobbled because it was hard to deny that she felt cheap in it. She suppressed a groan as her mother came around the corner from the kitchen.
