Page 78 of Finally Moore

“Yeah, but didn’t she leave the guy?”

“No. Why would you think that?” Tilly asks me.

“Oh, I…” I pause, not sure I want to admit to eavesdropping on their phone call. “…just assumed.”

Tilly frowns. “Why would you assume that?” she presses, and I bite my lip. “Scarlett?”

“Okay, fine. I totally listened to him on the phone. He was all excited that she called, mentioned herperfect timing.” I wave it all off. “Anyway, I assumed that they’d be ringing in the new year together. But I guess, when you’re newly divorced with three kids, running off for a romantic weekend in Chicago isn’t that easy.”

“Oh, Scarlett.” Tilly shakes her head. “Did you break up with Scott because you thought he was getting together with Amanda?” When I don’t answer her, she gasps. “You did, didn’t you? You know, Scar, I expected better from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How many books do we read where the couple is happy and in love, only to break up over some stupid misunderstanding that could’ve been cleared up in an instant if they would’ve just been adults and talked to each other?”

“Almost all of them,” I tell her and wince.

“Why didn’t you just ask him? Confront him after the call?”

“What are you saying, Tilly?”

“It took a few shots of tequila, but Jax was finally able to pry it out of him. That call was Amanda telling Scott that she and her husband worked things out. That their date—that whole experience—as great as it was, made her realize that she still loved her husband. So, yeah, he was excited because he was already head over heels for you and didn’t need to feel guilty about leaving Amanda hanging. And, as you can imagine, the timing was perfect—”

“Because my family was leaving, and we were going to talk.” I collapse into a chair. “I think I’m going to be sick.” I can feel my chest tightening, my breathing increasing to the point of near hyperventilation. “I ruined it, all of it. If I wouldn’t have snooped or at least asked… God, I’m so stupid.”

Tilly chuckles as she hands me a tissue. I hadn’t even realized I’d started crying. “You’re not stupid, just in love. You are, right? In love with my brother, that is?”

“Yes,” I admit. “So much so that I’ve been a shell of myself, trying to figure out how to live in a world without him this past week. What am I going to do?”

Tilly taps a finger to her chin. “I know I said I was done meddling, but I have an idea…”

Chapter thirty-three

Scott

“Sir,Iapologizebutthis is a couples only event,” the host indicates again.

“I understand. Really, I do. I had a date lined up, but she had to cancel at the last minute.”

Yeah, even my own sister flakes out on me.

Not that I blame her. If I had to choose between being home with my significant other or out with my sibling on New Year’s Eve, I’d choose the former. I know I should’ve just called it quits, but I haven’t seen Zach in years and, honestly, I really needed to get away for a weekend. Reset my mood. Then return to Tral Lake with a renewed sense of excitement. Because as it stands right now, everything makes me think of her and I don’t need to bring that kind of negativity in with me next year. Nope, my focus is on me and the restaurant. Just because we’re a small town doesn’t mean we need to be condemned to endure small flavor.

“Again, I empathize with your situation, sir. But the event is specifically arranged with two individuals in mind. The menu catered with the expectation of two people sharing not only a meal, but an experience. I, unfortunately, cannot let you in.”

I sigh. “Can I please talk to Zach? We’re friends. I’m sure if I could just explain the situation, he’d understand.”

The host chuckles. “I assure you Mr. Young is extremely busy and doesn’t have time to come out here and explain to you what I’ve already stated very clearly. Now, sir, if you wouldn’t mind, there are couples behind you waiting to get in.” I pull out my cell phone, and the man eyes me suspiciously. “Sir, what are you doing?”

“If you’re not going to get Zach for me, I’ll call him myself.”

“As I said, Mr. Young is very busy—”

“And instead of allowingMr. Young’sfriend, who hepersonallyinvitedto attend,through to his seat, you’re quoting some nonsense about how my pathetic table for one will disrupt his event.” As soon as the words leave my mouth and realization hits me, I hang up the phone. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what came over me.”

The host gives me a sad look.God, when did I get this pathetic?

“Excuse me… sorry,” I say as I work my way back outside. I take a seat on the stairs once I’m finally free of witnesses to my utter humiliation. “What are you even doing?” I ask myself.

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