Page 10 of Fireworks & Forehead Kisses

On my way out the back of the house, I said bye to Hank and then started the two-hundred-yard trek across the field to my farmhouse. About halfway, my phone vibrated. When I pulled it out of my back pocket, I saw it was a message from Garrett.

Garrett:Hey Ash, give me a call when you get this.

It was Friday night; I was alone; my niece had just been cheering for me to apply to go on a dating show to find a husband. If there was a time that I would feel especially vulnerable, this was it.

But I knew I had to be strong.

Maybe if he’d told me that he was unhappy, if he had communicated with me about wanting to work on things, then I would take his call. But he’d blindsided me. I had no clue that he was going to break up with me. Everything had been great with us. In fact, I thought we were going to get engaged. He waiteduntil our anniversary to tell me it wasn’t working. He took me out to dinner and told me that my wanting to settle down and have kids after twelve years together was too much for him.

So no, I was not going to call him back. I swiped his message to the left and deleted it. Just like I had his voicemail. There was no reason to torture myself.

I’d just put my phone back in my pocket when it vibrated again.

“Seriously,” I mumbled to myself.

When I pulled it out, I expected to see another text from Garrett. Instead, it was a text message from a number I didn’t recognize.

Unknown:Hello Ashley. My name is Declan Wolfe. It has come to my attention that you were hired by my grandmother, Estelle Wolfe. Unfortunately, your position within the company has been restructured; therefore, your employment is terminated effective immediately. Regards, Declan Wolfe, CEO, Wolfe Enterprises

I stared down at the text in disbelief. I’d heard of being broken up with by text but never fired by text, especially since I hadn’t even technically started. How was that even possible? Why was I getting fired by someone who hadn’t hired me?

Shit.

What is the saying? When one door closes, just open it; it’s a door. Or something like that. If not, it should be. Maybe this was a sign.

Maybe I should open the door and apply forMarried by a Matchmaker.

4

DECLAN

“Doyouhaveto go in today?” Serena whined as she rolled over in bed, and her jet-black hair fanned out on the white silk pillowcase.

“I do.”

She exhaled an exaggerated sigh as her hands stretched above her head. The sheet slipped down her toned body. Her large green eyes lifted to mine as she held out her bottom lip in a pout. “I thought you said we could go shopping.”

“I told you it’s going to be difficult now for me to get time off in the middle of the week.”

When my grandfather was alive, my schedule had been much more flexible. He’d been a control freak who was allergic to delegating tasks, which freed up my time. The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. I’d often wondered if he hadn’t had some form of OCD as well, but it had gone undiagnosed. He was also hyper-vigilant and could be very obsessive over tasks.

I removed my black card from my wallet and placed it on the nightstand. “You can take my card.”

A tiny grin lifted on her plump lips as she rolled back onto her stomach, closed her eyes, and breathed a resigned, “Fine.”

It wasn’t that she needed my money. Serena came from generational wealth; her family was old money, but she was successful in her own right. She’d worked as a fashion and runway model for the past ten years and was at the top of her field. She just enjoyed being spoiled, which was something I was both capable of and willing to do.

I stared down at my fiancée and felt…something was off between us—a disconnect. I told myself that it was because I’d just had a huge loss in my life. But there was a voice inside of my head that was saying it was more than that. Things had been different between us even before I got the call that my grandfather had passed away in his sleep.

Ever since Serena returned from her last runway show in Milan six months ago, there had been a shift in our relationship. A distance. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was a disconnect. It felt like even when we were together, she wasn’t really present. I needed to talk to her. To see what was going on. Serena traveled a lot for her job, but in the past, we’d always picked up where we left off. It didn’t matter how long we’d been apart; weeks, months—it was like no time had passed. When she got home last fall, we never got back in sync.

Our relationship was not traditional. I’d never considered myself to be in love with Serena. I cared about her, but I wasn’t even sure I was capable of being in love. She knew that and had always been satisfied with what I could offer her. She, on the other hand, had claimed to be in love with me and our life. Now, it felt as if she was just going through the motions.

Two years ago, I’d asked her to marry me. The proposal had been expected since we’d already been together for five years at that point. It was the logical next step. We were set to walk down the aisle in the summer. The plan was to have a small wedding in Italy.

I wasn’t a romantic. I didn’t consider love to be a prerequisite of marriage. In my view, marriage was a contract, an agreement, a commitment. Serena felt the same way. Or at least that’s what she told me. The only thing I asked was that we were honest with one another and on the same page.

Something in my gut was telling me that we weren’t anymore. I may not be able to name it, but I knew that I needed to find out before I left next week. I was going to be gone for six months.

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