Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Aspen shakes her head furiously. “Absolutely not. How could you even suggest that after everything we’ve been through?”
“The past doesn’t really matter anymore,” I snap.
Before Aspen can argue, Oakley clears her throat. “If you have nowhere else to go, you can have the cottage. I’ll stay at Finn’s. That okay, baby?”
Oakley wears a cute little smirk, and I shoot daggers at her, wondering what the hell she’s doing. This wasn’t a part of the plan, then I remember there was no plan. Still, she doesn’t have to be so nice. Aspen doesn’t deserve the courtesy.
“Thank you,” Aspen beams, satisfied to have gotten her way. “Now that’s settled, I guess we’ll see each other around. Oh, do either of you have the keys to the cottage? I’d like to drop off my luggage before going to the bakery to get started.”
I huff. “I’m not handing them over until I pack my adorable and overly generous girlfriend’s things.”
Oakley smiles wide. “Gah, you’re the best. Isn’t he the sweetest?”
“Yeah, he is. Finn was always so caring,” Aspen replies, and it takes every ounce of control I have not to tell her to fuck off as her eyes linger on me.
“He really is.” Oakley turns to me. “The best boyfriend I could’ve ever asked for. It’s like one day I woke up, and boom, we’re dating. So grateful for that.” Oakley’s gaze says it all—she’s pissed.
Aspen doesn’t notice anything is off between us, so I’m convinced she buys it.
“I’ll meet you there at the cottage, then,” Aspen tells me before walking to her car. Once she drives away, I release Oakley’s hand like it’s burned my skin.
“What the hell were you thinking?” She scowls, crossing her arms. “What’re we going to do now?”
“There is no we. You’re going into the inn to eat dinner while I deal with Satan.”
“Do you want me to join you?”
“Absolutely not. You haven’t eaten since lunch. Plus, you’ll have a better time listening to my grandmother talk about the birds she saw in the backyard this afternoon than having Aspen grill you about our relationship. And trust me, she will.” She’s nothing if not predictable.
She pulls the cottage keys from her pocket and places them in my palm. “Be careful with my shit and pack it with care. Also, you’re welcome, and you owe me big time.”
I shake my head, cursing under my breath as Oakley walks inside.
When I arrive at the cottage, Aspen is lifting her suitcase from the trunk. I pass her, unlock the door, and look at all the shit Oakley has lying around. There’s a small pile of clothes on the bathroom floor, and her paint supplies are everywhere. I try to hurry as I put everything in the empty boxes, but I do my best to be careful with her art stuff. Aspen stares at me, but I try to ignore her.
“All this is hers?” she questions when she can’t take my silence any longer. Aspen looks disgusted as she glances at the easel, paintbrushes, paints, drapes, and luggage.
“Yeah,” I say, lifting a few boxes to load them.
When I return, Aspen sits on the edge of the bed and watches me. I refuse to make eye contact with her, but I can tell her mind is running wild.
“How have you been, Finn?”
“Great.” I fold the easel and stack the paint bottles in a box.
“Just great?”
I meet her eyes. “Amazing, actually. For the first time in my life, I’m truly happy.”
The lies keep rolling off my tongue like water. The truth is, I’m miserable, but I’ve learned how to be alone.
A small smile plays on her lips, and she glances down at her ring that reflects sunlight. “I’ve been amazing too. Got engaged a few months ago.”
“Congrats.” I grab more of Oakley’s stuff and head outside because I need air. Aspen’s confession nearly suffocates me as I realize she said yes to someone within months of dating them.
I stall outside for five minutes, hoping I can get the rest of Oakley’s things quickly loaded so I can get the fuck out of here.
When I return, Aspen strips the sheets off the bed and throws them in a pile on the floor. She struts to the small linen closet and grabs fresh ones.
“Just in case you christened the bed.” She laughs nervously, but I don’t crack a smile.
Not taking the hint, Aspen continues to talk and even replays old memories we shared. It’s torture.
The next time I see my Aunt Paisley, I’m going to give her a not-so-nice thank-you for this. She or my mother could’ve at least warned me that the devil would be arriving. While good help is hard to come by on such short notice, they must’ve been desperate to ask Aspen. Regardless, blindsiding me was uncalled for.
“Remember that one time we made love on that hiking trail?” she asks.