Page 38 of Aisle Come Back to You

She seems to see right through me as she knowingly nods her head. “Let me guess, those plans include Blair Bennett.”

I nonchalantly shrug my shoulders, attempting to dismiss her judgmental tone. “Well, yeah, but Ronnie’s going to be there, too. We’re helping with wedding favors.”

We may be separated, but that doesn’t make it easy to shake the feeling that I’m somehow in the wrong here. Despite her obvious attempts to keep her distance, and the gossip about her dating other people, it seems that old habits are proving hard to break.

“Right, and I’m sure you’re hating every minute of it,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Considering she’s been one of my best friends since childhood, I think it’s understandable that I would be happy to see her. So no, I’m not hating it,” I say, not hiding the defensiveness in my tone. I was never a fan of this attitude before, and now I’m even less inclined to appreciate it when I no longer have to put up with it.

“And I’m sure your silly little crush on her has nothing to do with it,” she challenges, placing her hands on her hips as she tilts her head to the side.

“Even if it did, that’d be none of your business. Considering you’ve been nothing but vocal about needing this separation and divorce, I’m simply not in the mood to revisit the same argument that we’ve been going in circles about for years.”

“And this is exactly the reason why I did. I’m tired of playing second best to the one you’ve always wanted.”

I try my best to suppress the guilt, but it stubbornly persists. As much as I wish I could be the guy who could argue and say that she’s wrong and I’ve only ever wanted her—she’s right. As much as I loved Jenny and tried to be the husband she deserved, a part of me always longed for Blair.

My face falls. “Jenny—”

“No,” she starts, raising a hand to stop me, “I’m no longer looking to hold you back from spending time with the one you really want to be with, so go.”

I sigh, wishing I knew what to say, but unfortunately, I’m at a loss.

“Seriously, Ford, just leave already,” she insists, and although I wish our parting could be more amicable, I recognize that I won’t be the one who comes out on top. I’m pretty sure neither of us is truly winning here. A part of me knows this is probably a test, like so many others that she’s subjected me to during our marriage, but I don’t have it in me to keep fighting this same fight. Instead, I do as I’m told and make my way toward my car.

Arriving at Ronnie’s parents’ house, I wish I still felt as excited about seeing Blair and Ronnie as I did earlier. Regrettably, during the drive over, all I could focus on was what a letdown I’ve been to the people who counted on me and loved me themost. Not only did I let Jenny down, but Blair as well when I knowingly let the wrong woman walk down the aisle toward me.

The only consolation I have now about this afternoon is that we won’t be working on today’s project at Ronnie’s future place with Pete. Dealing with Jenny has already soured my mood enough, and I’m certain it would only worsen if I were forced to spend even more time with that guy. Luckily, it seems like today will only be the three of us.

While heading toward the front door, I take out my phone and shoot Ronnie a text, letting her know I’m here. Luckily, she promptly responds, letting me know they are in the backyard and to let myself in.

While it’s clear Pete has been trying to make his place the nicest in Evergreen Grove, the real honor has always gone to the Prescotts. With its expansive size and breathtaking beauty, the place boasts a giant and inviting porch along with an eye-catching red door and shutters, truly defining its unique character. He can try all he wants to outdo this place, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be next to impossible.

Heading back down the front steps, I let myself through the side gate, the familiar scent of freshly bloomed flowers filling the air, reminding me once again, why it truly is the best in town. Ronnie’s mom has more than outdone herself. The backyard is large and sprawling with a massive array of different colored flowers. That’s not the only thing she’s prided herself on growing, as she’s also renowned for cultivating the most delicious fruit and vegetable garden in town, which she’s constantly sharing with her neighbors and friends.

In the distance, a stunning red barn catches the eye, but the true beauty lies in the expansive, sparkling pond. It’s hardly surprising that Ronnie has chosen this spot to get married next week.

“There’s the golden boy. He finally made it,” Ronnie cheers as she waves me over to the table where the two of them have set themselves up at, currently filled to the brim with tiny jam-filled jars, likely made from Mrs. Prescott’s garden.

Yet, it’s not the first thing that catches my eye; instead, my focus goes to the beautiful doe-eyed blonde sitting at the table. Today, she’s opted for a more relaxed look, wearing an oversized band T-shirt and black biker shorts, her hair pulled up into a giant messy bun on the top of her head, with random strands falling to the sides.

While Blair might have been the catalyst for my fight with Jenny today, all those negative thoughts evaporate as soon as I see her. I can’t concentrate on that, not when I can finally immerse myself in the intoxicating feeling that comes along just from being this close to her. My top priority, though, is not dwelling on our conversation from last night, as it would surely turn my face bright red as the two of them gave me shit for it. I’ve known these two long enough to know exactly how that would go down.

“You know, you two heathens could easily have joined me today. In fact, I ran into your parents there,” I say, doing my best to focus my attention on Ronnie, even if all I want to do is stare in Blair’s direction.

“And risk ruining the reputation for being known as the town’s resident bad girl that I’ve spent years and years building? No thanks,” Blair tsks.

“Plus, not all of us enjoy being suck-ups. The second I turned thirteen and my parents let me, I stopped going and haven’t looked back,” Ronnie adds, her gaze downward as she skillfully wraps a blue ribbon around one of the jars.

“I’m not a suck-up,” I defend, placing a hand over my heart as I walk closer. “I can’t help that I enjoy seeing my mom happy.”

“Sorry bud, that’s quite honestly the definition of a suck-up,” Ronnie says, finally glancing up.

“Fine. Call me whatever you want. I can take it,” I say, lifting my hands in the air, as if beckoning for them to continue.

“Whatever you say, mama’s boy,” Blair happily obliges.

I chuckle and roll my eyes. “There are worse things I could be than a mama’s boy.”

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