Page 113 of Back to December
epilogue
BRIDGET
JANUARY 31—ST. BRIGID’S DAY
Winter still clingsto Enchanted Hollow. Usually, it’s dead grass, bare trees, and a bright blue sky, but snow still dots the ground, so it’s lessblahthan I remember from my teenage years. Surely spring is on the horizon.
Valentine’s decorations decorate the square; love is in every single nook and cranny available. Hearts and phrases like ‘’you’re the cream to my coffee’ splash across business windows. That’s one thing this place doesn’t skimp on—the opportunity to celebrate love.
There’s a nagging sense of dread in my chest as I walk down Main Street, but I’ve got no real reason to feel this way. I mean, I’m half expecting Cupid to be waiting around the corner, ready to shoot me with a love arrow as I pass beneath massive pink heart garlands stretched across the width of this street.
That would be weird, though, considering I’m alreadysupposed to be in love. Pink cotton candy love, like the color of Taylor Swift’s Lover album.
My happily-ever-after should be coming up quick.
After all, Ella’s thriving on Ever After Farms with her new family. There are plans to move onto her parents' property, but she’s not in a hurry. Laila is over the moon planning her own wedding to Holden—that we’re planning our weddingstogether.
See? I should be floating on a fluffy cloud in almost-wedded bliss.
My eyes travel down to my ring finger and snag on the gaudy jewel resting there. It’s fine that it wasn’t the right size when Andrew put it there. And it’sfinethat it’s not me. At all. It’s fine that I’ve planned every second of this wedding alone. I mean, it’s my speciality after working at Gilded Vows with my sisters for so many years.
I know Laila has noticed, and she’s kept quiet about it. Ella might too if I weren’t trying so hard to keep up a front. But it’s gnawing on me from the inside.
Especially since Andrew has been so distant.
He travels a lot for work, but he never seems to have time to talk. Texts are short. When we do catch each other on the phone, he sounds like he’s got something better to do.
I take a sip of my coffee and sigh. Maybe I’m expecting too much?
“Penny for your thoughts?”
I practically jump as Weston Reilly falls into step beside me, an extra-large coffee in his hand. The man is an overall pain in my rear; a shameless flirt that I met at Holly Everheart’s wedding last fall. He plays on the same football team as Cade.
“Shouldn’t you be watching your calorie count? The Super Bowl is right around the corner.”
“Kind of hard to play with this.” He motions to a giant brace on his knee, and I want to disappear.
Perhaps I can go find a rabbit hole and stumble across Wonderland.
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugs and takes a long drink from his cup. “I can think of worse places I could be.”
“If you’re forced to sit out, why aren’t you off on an island somewhere enjoying yourself? This place is small. And cold.” I dare another glance in his direction.
His mouth hitches up in a smile. “Maybe I want to fall off the map for a while. Small isn’t bad. And I don’t mind the cold. Perfect cuddle weather.”
Ugh.Does he ever turn it off? I change the subject.
“Shouldn’t you be in PT for your knee? I can’t imagine this place has adequate therapy for someone like you.”
“Aw, Bridget, does this mean you care?”
I huff out a groan and roll my eyes, flashing my left hand at him. “Still engaged, Mr. First Down, Last Nerve.”
“I can see, Spitfire. Wedding stress got you all in knots?”
“What?” I stop mid-stride.
