Page 93 of Fairground

Regan groans, slapping her hands over her eyes like Molly just said the worst thing imaginable. “No, please don’t say that.”

“If you’re reacting like that and he hasn’t even proposed yet, I’m going to go ahead and guess you don’t want to marry Declan,” I point out. Declan's Regan's boyfriend of about six months now and though they were dating casually before then, it's only inthat time that they'd become more serious about seeing only each other.

Regan drops her hands with a long sigh. “Look, it’s been fun. And yeah, he asked me to be exclusive a few months ago, which I agreed to, but… I don’t see myself marrying him. I turn thirty this year, and I still feel like I’m looking for that...something, with him. Like there's a spark or something missing. Maybe I'm asking for too much and should just settle. Maybe I should break up with him before it even gets to that point. I don't feel like a priority for him. I don’t feel like there’s any real passion or future between us. I don't know what to do.”

“Honestly, he’s kind of a wet blanket, don’t you think?” I say with a shrug.

Molly nudges my shoulder with hers, rolling her eyes. “Rae, don’t be rude.”

“I’m not trying to be rude,” I counter. “But, like, why’d you keep him from us for so long anyway? If he’s so great, why were you hiding him?”

Regan’s cheeks flush as she rubs her hands together nervously. “Because I knew this is exactly how you guys would react when you found out I was dating him.”

“Well…” I draw out the word, glancing at Molly and then back to Regan. “You don’t even really like him, so am I wrong?”

Regan lets out a groan, covering her face with her hands again. “I don’t know. Probably not. I should end things.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Well, I do. You don’t like him, he’s being weird, and that’s all the confirmation you need. You know what to do.”

“Oh, like Cash has never been weird before,” Lydia chimes in, making her grand entrance into the living room. She’s wearingone of her signature flowy linen pants, paired with an oversized tank top so loose I can clearly see her bra.

For the town’s reverend’s daughter, she sure as hell doesn’t dress like one.

I laugh and shake my head. “Okay, fair, but Cash has always been clear about how he feels about me. Yeah, I’ll admit he’s done some weird stuff before, but…” I shrug, grinning.

“Exactly,” Lydia says, throwing her hands up dramatically. "Men can just be strange sometimes."

"Hold on, not all men," Molly counters and we all roll our eyes because yes, Colt Marshall has never wavered on his undying love and support for Molly. Best friends since they were kids, a decade spent apart and a divorce for Molly, none of that stopped Colt from going after her once she moved back to town.

Regan looks between us, her lips twitching like she’s fighting off a laugh. “You guys are impossible. I get it. I don’t really like Declan. The relationship has run its course, and I should probably end things now that I see I’m not a priority to him.”

“You love us.” Molly winks, popping another almond into her mouth.

Regan groans again, but the smile finally breaks through. “I do. I just need some time to think about how I’m going to end things. He’s really a nice guy.”

“Take your time,” I say, grinning at her. “But not too much time. You deserve better than a guy who’s already half out the door.”

“And someone who actuallylikeshanging out with you and isn't looking for an out. You're a freaking catch, Regan,” Lydia adds, and I nod because Regan with her thick, dark auburn hair and bright blue eyes has the best personality out of all the Marshall's.

With Cash as the exception, of course.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Regan says, laughing now. “I’ll figure it out.”

The conversation shifts as we settle deeper into the living room, and I glance around at these women who’ve somehow become my family. I feel so much lighter here. Just as I’m about to suggest she take another shot of the tequila we’ve declared our official Wednesday night drink for girls’ night—my first decree as mayor of Whitewood Creek—my phone buzzes on the coffee table. Cash’s name lights up the screen.

Cash:Come here.

I roll my eyes but can’t stop the smile pulling at my lips.

Rae:So freaking bossy. Sorry, it’s girls’ night.

Cash:It wasn’t a suggestion.

Rae:And why, exactly, would I walk away from this glorious bottle of tequila to trek all the way back to your dad's house?

Cash:Because I’m not at the house. I’m at the egg farm. With a whole new batch of baby chicks.

Cash: [Attachment: a photo of Cash covered in tiny, fluffy, yellow chicks as he laughs.]

---