Page 27 of A Vine Mess
I glanced at her quickly, pleased to find her beaming at me. “Thank you. And just like you have a super special nickname for me, I’m giving you one.”
I raised my hand and moved my fingers in abring it ongesture. “Let’s hear it then.”
She tapped a finger to her chin thoughtfully, then said, “Wills.”
I snorted. “Very original.”
Ella hummed happily. “I think it’s cute. Reminds me of the Prince.”
I raised a brow, gesturing to my body. “I hate to break it to you, but I definitely don’t give off princely vibes. I’m more like…Quasimodo.”
Ella snorted right as she sipped her water, accidentally inhaling it into her windpipe if the wheezing, hacking sounds she made trying to clear it were any indication. She bent in half, gasping for air as I pounded on her back.
“Jesus, Wildflower.Breathe.”
“I’m…trying,” she croaked.
At last, she straightened, inhaled the first deep breath she’d managed in minutes, and let out a disbelieving chuckle. “Quasimodo,” she said with a head shake. “You are so far from Quasimodo, it’s not even funny.”
“I never would’ve said it had I known it’d nearly send you to your death.”
Ella waved me off. “I’m fine. But damn, Wills. Who knew you had a sense of humor?”
I shrugged. It existed—at least, it used to. Now, that part of me lay buried deep beneath the layers of a relationship that hadn’t worked out and all of the ways I’d tried to forget about it.
Maybe the townsfolk of Apple Blossom Bay were onto something when they glared, whispered behind their hands, or outright avoided me when I walked down the street. I wasn’t exactly the most friendly man.
But I used to be. Before…everything.
And now here I was, hurtling down the highway on a journey that would ultimately end with me right back where it all started—and fell apart.
At the very least, I was making it my personal mission to ensure Ella attended Sam’s wedding with me, if only for emotional support. Showing up alone, and facing all of those people by myself wasn’t high on my list of priorities. I knew if I asked, and explained the situation, Ella wouldn’t hesitate to do me a solid. But I didn’t want her to feel obligated, didn’t want her to feel like some human shield I needed between me and my and Mellie’s families.
I wanted her towantto be by my side, exactly like I wished for her to be since the day I met her.
Ella was quiet as she marveled at the scenery around us, which wasn’t too different from where we lived, actually. That was until she realized how unreliable cell phone reception was between St. Ignace and Munising.
She held her phone up toward the ceiling and whined. “How do people live like this?”
“They get used to it,” I deadpanned. “Now stop being a brat and just enjoy the ride.”
Ella gasped theatrically. “Well, I never…” she said, affecting a horrible high-society accent.
I chuckled and spared her a quick glance, pleased to find she was grinning at me.
The rest of the trip passed quickly after that, and soon, we were driving through the small town of Munising.
“Oh my god,” Ella said as we pulled into a parking space down by the city dock, where boats of various sizes were tied up, including the cruise ships that took tourists out for a view of Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. “This is…dreamy.”
I hummed in agreement. “It’s truly one of my favorite places.”
A lot of people knew about the area, of course; I’d spent enough time here on quick trips over the years to ingratiate myself with the locals. I liked to pretend I was one of them. And I’d heard the stories about how this small, sometimes sleepy town turned into a hotbed of activity between Memorial and Labor Days.
It was a lot like Old Mission in that regard, when our town of six hundred residents swelled with an influx of tourist activity from June to September and beyond.
But there were even more who had no idea such a natural gem existed on the shores of Lake Superior in this one-stoplight town.
“You’ve been here before?” Ella asked as we got out of the van and crossed into the grassy bayshore park.
