Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Now, here I am, watching my ex when my thoughts should be on my fiancée. It’s like everything happens in slow motion. Caryn’s voice is muffled, like she’s underwater, while Ev’s is crystal clear. Ever the professional, Evangeline greets her newest visitor just as Caryn makes it known she’s with me. The look my ex gives me turns my insides to stone. Again, deserving. If I were Evangeline, I’d kick me off the property, but she would never embarrass her parents or the farm like that. Besides, I was the ass for showing up here. I knew better.
I can’t take my eyes off Eve as she stalks past me, giving me a death glare. I miss when Caryn slips in the mud, falling on her rear. Her legs splay out in front of her, while her tight skirt keeps her legs pinned to the ground. I don’t know how long it takes me to realize she’s on the ground, her backside and hands covered in mud, but it’s long enough for Caryn to give me her version of a death glare.
Honestly, I should probably walk off into the sunset at this point.
When I look back on today, it’s going to be one of those moments where I learned to do the right thing. The problem is, doing the right thing may also end up being the wrong thing.
As fast as my feet take me, I’m by Caryn’s side. Tears of anger and humiliation stream down her face.
“Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?” she snaps.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Why is there mud? Where’s the pavement?”
“This is a farm.” I look at her heels and mutter under my breath. “I suggested you change your shoes earlier.”
“It’s not my shoes’ fault there’s mud, Zane.”
Who am I to argue?
Before I pull Caryn to her feet, Evangeline is at Caryn’s side, pushing me out of the way.
“Hey there,” Eve says softly and with such compassion. My memory serves me well, this isn’t the first time something like this has happened here. “I’m Evangeline.”
As soon as Eve says her name, my somewhat softening insides are back to hard, rigid stone. Caryn throws daggers at me. We’ve never talked about Evangeline in the years we’ve been together. Caryn never wanted to know about my past girlfriends, saying they were in the past for a reason. Except my father made it very clear Evangeline meant something to him and my mother.
Eve doesn’t seem to catch on or care. “Come on, let’s get you on your feet and cleaned up.” She helps Caryn stand, knocking my hand away when I offer help. My ex guides my fiancée into the shack and toward the back. I stay there, taking everything in and how it’s changed over the years. It’s much warmer, more homely, and more like a store than a place to seek some semblance of warmth during the tree selling season.
“I suggest you make yourself useful if a customer comes in,” Evangeline says to me before disappearing through a doorway.
As tempted as I am to follow, I stay where I am, afraid she, being Evangeline, may bite my head off. Literally. I’ve done enough to piss her off for the rest of her life and today has only added insult to the wounds I left behind. In hindsight, I should’ve called and told my dad I was coming so he could warn Evangeline.
While the ladies are in the back, likely plotting my demise, I go back outside and shake the snow off the trees, stand a few upright, and add wreaths to the missing hooks. When a customer pulls in, I greet them, and surprisingly remember everything Mr. Holcomb ever taught me about trees and tell the customer what they need to know.
“Zane?”
I turn at the sound of my name to find the man who welcomed me into his home as his own—the man who could’ve been my father-in-law—had I not screwed everything up.
“Mr. Holcomb,” I say, unsure if I should be happy to see him, give him a hug, or stand there and accept the punishment I’m definitely due.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
Punishment is definitely coming my way.
“Uh, no sir. I . . . uh . . .
He nods.
The door to the shack opens. Caryn steps out looking rather pissed, and heads right to the car without saying a word to me. She’s wearing sweatpants, something I’ve never seen her in, and a pair of boots that I know aren’t hers. The bag she carries dangles from her fingers. Once I get into the car, she’ll let me have it. This I’m sure of.
As soon as she’s walked up the small incline and out of sight, Mr. Holcomb clears his throat. It’s not one of those I’d like attention clearing of throats, but more of a what in the hell is going on? gruff one. I hang my head in shame, embarrassment coursing through me, and in utter disgust with myself.