Page 74 of The Pretenders of Copper County
Especially since I knew his happiness wouldn’t last.
Janissey had finally come through a couple of hours ago. I had the proof Chris had asked for and more. Dante’s unsigned plea agreement, detailing his many crimes, was waiting on my phone, weighing down my pocket. And I knew Chris deserved to know the truth, deserved better than for me to protect him at the expense of letting him live. But I also knew it was going to hurt him, badly. And at some point in the past ten days, that had become completely unacceptable to me.
As I stood against the caretaker cabin, keeping a watch over the clearing, Watt caught my eye and broke away from the people he’d been chatting with. He strolled toward me, pausing only to grab a couple of beers from one of the coolers someone had brought.
“Sunday.” He handed me a drink, then took up a spot beside me, propping his back against the cabin wall to look over the assembly just as I did. “Nice of you to have us over.”
Without moving my head, I side-eyed him up and down. He wore an insulated vest over a thick Henley and work-worn jeans, his booted feet braced slightly apart. In some ways, he gave off the same steady, tree vibes that my older brother Webb had—as though Watt, too, had grown out of the land he tended and would stay planted here until he died. But Watt didn’t feel quite as settled as my brother. His eyes traveled around the group over and over again like he was searching for something or someone. Possibly for my husband.
My fake husband.
My…
MyChris.
“I had nothing to do with this gathering,” I told Watt honestly, confirming what he had to have already guessed. “I just set up the folding tables and stayed out of the way.”
Watt grinned and brought his beer to his lips. “Still. I doubt this was what you expected your honeymoon to look like.” His eyes slid toward me. “Strange choice you two made, coming here.”
“Oh myGod, Gideon, try this fig compote!” Parker cried, drawing our attention. He grabbed a muscular guy by the arm and stabbed a finger toward one of the dishes Chris had set out. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth!”
“You wanna tell Jamie that, or should I?” the other man—Gideon—said wryly.
Around the fire pit, laughter broke out as an O’Learian wrapped up a story I figured everyone had heard a dozen times, and folks sat back in their folding chairs—chairs they’d broughtthemselves,mind you, since people around here were apparently prepared to crash a charcuterie spread at a moment’s notice—with contented smiles.
Further away from the fire, a gaggle of children ranging in age from toddlers to maybe twelve-year-olds sat in a circle, laughed and shouted as they played keep-away with Cupcake the dog, while Vega, Derry, and Zach—who seemed to have undergone some kind of personality transplant in the last few days and had actually dragged himself over here yesterday to help Chris clean up the cabin he’d graffitied—watched over them.
Dolores, Chris’s new camper, chatted animatedly with Parker’s boyfriend, Jamie, and Cal, the other baker, probably comparing notes about what it was like to be a redhead in a world that both loved and feared them. Meanwhile, her henpecked husband, who’d barely said a wordall evening, sat in an Adirondack chair and watched his wife with a little smile on his face, like he hadn’t a care in the world now that he’d parked his RV and his wife was enjoying herself.
I understood that feeling acutely.
“I suppose itwasa strange choice,” I said in answer to Watt’s earlier question. “But Chris is happy.”
“Seems like it.” Watt picked at the gold label on his bottle. “You know, Oak never said how long you and Chris had been married.”
He sounded faintly suspicious, and I fought not to show any reaction as I shrugged. “A while now. Sometimes, it feels like forever.” Other times, it felt like the nine craziest days and nights of my life.
“Uh-huh. He also didn’t mention where you guys are from. Or how you came to be on a honeymoon of indefinite length. Or what either of you do for work. Why do you suppose that is?”
I turned to face him, eyes narrowed. “Iguessit’s because I told Oak we wanted privacy…. not to share our business with a whole nosy town.”
Watt didn’t take exception to my cranky tone. In fact, he nodded like this was exactly the sort of reply he’d expected. “You know, I had my doubts about you and Chris, at first.”
“Doubts? What doubts?”
“About who you really were.” His eyes met mine. “I love my cousin, but the man doesn’t have a normal friend. They’re all famous rock stars, or Hollywood actresses, or foreign royals, or private bodyguards, or government agents.”
I locked down my expression. “Is that so?”
“Yep. So when he messaged to say his friend was dying to renovate my neighbor’s campground and he was bringinghis new husband, I sort of wondered which kind of friend you were.” He regarded me thoughtfully. “You and Chris definitely didn’t seem married that first day?—”
“Pfft. Not married? That’s ridiculous.” I scowled. “Sounds like wishful thinking to me.”
“But then I saw the two of you together more over the last few days,” Watt went on, unbothered and unhurried. “I saw the way you look at each other. I saw the way you take care of each other. Like, when you ran around doing errands for him the day after his accident at the lake. Or when he refused my invite for the two of you to come over and watchJohn Ruffianyesterday. Dead giveaway that he was trying to protect your dignity?—”
“Protect my— No. No way. Chris declined because he’s still recovering from his virulent and highly contagious lung pestilence.”
“He seems to have made a miraculous recovery,” he noted, watching Chris now. “And by my calculations, you two were probably ready to watch the creepy doll factory episode.” Watt’s voice held equal parts pity and amusement. “So I’m thinking Chris gave up the comfort of a big-screen TV and a living room that’s more than six feet wide just so Ollie and I wouldn’t see you scream.”
