Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Joy, I don’t know about this,” Hope tries to tell her.
But Joy’s not hearing it. She puts her hands on Hope’s shoulders, looking deep into her eyes and speaking firmly. “You have a chance to rip every page out of your story and completely rewrite every chapter. Whether it’s with Roy or not, you deserve to choose it with your whole heart and mind, with zero doubts.”
Hope freezes, hearing the truth in her sister’s words. Suddenly, Hope is wrapped around Joy like a jellyfish, arms and legs and hair going everywhere as they hug and sway in the lobby. “Love you, sis.”
“Love you more. Now, get out of here before the early lunch-edition reporting is over and people see you.” Joy looks behind her as she extricates herself from Hope’s hug.
“Oh!” Hope hears what Joy means—that there might be people here on Roy’s side, not ours. Ours? When did it become ours, not hers? “I’ll call you later.”
And then we’re crossing the parking lot and getting in the car. I glance over to find Hope looking shell-shocked, staring vacantly with her jaw dropped open. “You okay?”
A slow smile steals across her lips, and she nods. Ever so softly, she whispers, “Yeah, I think I am.”
Chapter 7
HOPE
“Where to?” Ben asks, starting the car.
Joy’s words are echoing in my ears and bouncing around in my head as I try to make sense of them. There are people rooting for me to leave Roy? I expected a few jealous types to want him for themselves, considering he’s always had girls chasing him, but I never thought people would want something different for me.
Something better for me than Roy?
“Rosemary’s Diner.” It was the first recommendation I had for him, and I’m sticking with it. I need to know if Joy’s telling the truth, and Rosemary doesn’t have an ounce of fakeness in her. She’ll give it to me straight.
“She on Team Hope?”
It’s a valid question, considering I’m volunteering Ben to go out in public with me, the bride on the lam, after telling him I can’t be seen without there being dire consequences. He might’ve offered to play tourist to my tourist guide gig, but this is way more than a sightseeing excursion looking at town from the safety of his car with all arms and legs in the vehicle, please. “If anyone is, she for sure will be. I helped refit her new dentures a while back. You wouldn’t think it’d be a big deal, but to Rosemary, it was. I trust her to not snitch.”
I’m 96 percent certain of that decision when we walk in the front door of the diner. Still, a nervously held breath escapes out of me when Rosemary looks up from her spot behind the grill and waves her spatula in my direction with a perfect white smile. “Whoo-wee, Miss Thang. You know how to rile ’em up something fierce, don’tcha? Want your usual?”
She doesn’t ask me why. She doesn’t give me a hard time. Rosemary just wants to feed me the way she feeds everyone. Like today is any other day.
She’s also setting the tone for what’s acceptable in her restaurant, because once she acts like everything’s normal, everyone else does, too, going back to their lunches. Nobody says a word, but I can still feel eyes on me from every direction—judging, measuring, wondering.
I nod. “Yes, ma’am, please. Can you make it two?”
Her eyes cut to Ben standing at my side, and her lips purse slightly, but she doesn’t say a word about the stranger’s appearance. We’re accustomed to tourists, but Ben being here with me is a different matter entirely, and we all know it. “Yep, two Barlowe specials coming up. Why don’t you take the back booth?” She jerks her chin toward the corner, where there’s a two-seater table with no window view, which means I won’t be spotted. Rosemary’s a smart lady.
Ben slides in after I do, sitting opposite me but able to keep his eyes on the rest of the restaurant. He scans the diner slowly, challenging someone to say one negative word to me and give him a reason to set them straight. He feels dangerous—to everyone else, but somehow, safe to me.
I didn’t expect to have people on my side. I didn’t know I had a side. I thought Roy and I were the same team and people were cheering us both on, happy for us. But maybe not.
“Glad to see you came to your senses,” a man whispers as he walks by, presumably to get a refill on his drink even though it’s more than half-full already. “Give it a few days till you come back officially, m’kay? I’ve got the fifteenth in the pool. And when you do, you tell that Laurier kid to leave you alone.”
Is he serious? I don’t even know who he is, but he’s obviously a townie, or close enough to one to know the gossip and be included in the betting. Actually . . . I look at the woman sitting at the table he goes back to. Is that Mrs. Suman? That’d probably make the man Mr. Suman.