Page 41 of The Charm of You

She lifts her confused gaze onto me, and the crease between her thick brows deepens the longer we stare at each other. “Are you asking because we saw Emily last night? Babe, Queen Winchester is not exactly the best judge of character. She only likes people with money and status, but she might make an exception if you can carry your own in a gardening conversation. That’s a big if.”

I bite my lip to keep my smile from spreading. I probably shouldn’t appreciate her assessment of Emily as much as I do.

“I know you were friends of sorts in high school, but trust me—you and Emily Winchester would not even be in the same Bible study group today. She’s unbearable, and life is too short to pretend she’s not.”

I full-on giggle now. I appreciate Maren’s candidness as much as I find it funny. “She and I did have more of a frenemy thing going on back then.”

She agrees without hesitation. “Emmy was always competitive with you. She wanted to be cheer captain so bad, she offered a bribe to your coach.”

“That was a rumor!”

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t true.”

I sip more of my drink and settle the cup between my palms again as my stomach rolls. “I’m not fishing for compliments or anything. I’m just starting to wonder if I was a nice person. Or was I a super uptight and oblivious and annoying cheerleader everyone hated behind her back? More than that, am I still that person?”

“Caroline, everyone genuinely loved you.” She leans forward. “Even girls like Emily, who wanted to hate you, loved you. You were always generous and full of life. We knew you were bigger than Sapphire Creek, and everyone’s thrilled for you going out there and living your best life.”

My throat dries, so I indulge in another drink. Even though it’s a delicious medium roast with cinnamon and apple cider flavors—there’s a reason it’s called Fall in a Cup—it doesn’t go down easily.

“The only thing I hated was when my mom would enter me into the same pageants as you because I knew I never stood a chance. But we were both just so beautiful and had our own special qualities.” She mimics what I assume her mother used to say to her with a good-natured smile.

“She wasn’t wrong. You were—and are—a knockout.” I laugh and squeeze Maren’s hand. She gives it a brief squeeze too before retreating. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you when she passed. How have you been?”

Her shoulders slump. “She’s been gone for six years. Some days, it feels like it’s only been a day, and others, it feels like twenty years flew by. Both terrify me, but I’m getting through it. There’s nothing else I can do, right?”

I nod in solemn solidarity.

“It was a little easier with Dixie around, but she’s married and living in Savannah. It can get lonely.”

“At least she’s close, right?” I offer. I’d think it would be wonderful to have family nearby like Maren and her younger sister, Dixie.

She hums. “What about you? You haven’t been back home since you were a teenager. I’m sure you have a lot of reminders about your dad.”

I tuck my hair behind my ear and sigh. “I haven’t had a lot of time to really think about him. My mom never talks about him, and this weekend was a bit of a whirlwind.”

Her burst of laughter shocks me.

“What?” My own lips twitch. “Why are you laughing?”

“Sapphire Creek has been a whirlwind? There’s a word no one has ever used. Sleepy or quaint, maybe, but not a whirlwind.”

“What else would you call it if you returned home from the Big Apple for the first time in ten years to reconnect with old friends, refuse a proposal, and kiss a bad-tempered mechanic?” I smother my mouth with my hand, my eyes wide as I realize what I’ve done.

So much for pretending.

Then again, this is Maren. We’ve been friends since we were kids and played in the very sandbox at the park a few yards away. I trust her, and it’s good to set the truth free, even if it’s a partial truth.

Maren gives a low whistle, and an amused grin stretches from cheek to cheek. “When you said the deal with your boyfriend was complicated, you weren’t kidding.”

I throw my head back and groan.

“I want every detail,” she asserts. “Are we still on for shopping with Addie later?”

I mumble a confirmation as she slides out of the bench to tend to the customers whose chatter filters over me like the breeze rustling the branches overhead.

Biting my lip, I rest here for a few more minutes, dreading my walk back to the shop. What can I say this time to explain myself? Dare I apologize to Austin yet again? There must be some kind of statute of limitations on ridiculous and embarrassing things a person can commit against another human, right?

I just wish I was actually embarrassed by the inappropriate kiss I shared with Austin. That would be a lot easier than my real feelings, which only conjure a cocktail of R-rated thoughts and fantasies.

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