Page 54 of Hate You, Maybe
“He wants us to meet with him and Hildy in the main lodge after lunch. According to the agenda, the rest of the group will be doing nature painting.”
I let out a little snort. “I’m okay skipping that.”
“Really? I kind of wanted to do the painting.”
“Sorry.” I reach for the mug, pop the lid, and steam curls up, warming my face. I take a long sip, and the hot, dark roast slides down my throat. I can already feel the cobwebs breaking up. “This is the best coffee I’ve ever tasted,” I say on a moan. “I owe you one.”
“You definitely do,” she says. “Because you also got me in trouble with Loren.” Her lips twitch, so whatever happened couldn’t be all that bad. But now I’m curious.
“How exactly?”
“You talked to Bridger yesterday. A lot, apparently.”
I take another sip of coffee, struggling to remember any details of my life before now, but I mostly come up blank. Guess I’m still a little dazed from that wild dream starring Sayla. “But Bridge was at staff development all day yesterday,” I say.
“Exactly.” Her face is smug. “Loren was sitting with him the whole time you were texting. Meanwhile, I was focused on our retreat like we were supposed to be. So I ignored my phone and woke up to a whole slew of snarky messages asking why we aren’t friends anymore.” Sayla chuckles. “I’m going to have to do some damage control before breakfast.”
I flinch. “Oops. Good luck with that.”
“Oh, please.” She waves my comment away. “She was only kidding. Our friendship’s rock solid. You and Bridger do not get to win the friendship wars.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say. “You and Loren take home the gold for sure.” There’s a pause, so I take the opportunity to ask. “What’s the story with her fiancé? I know almost nothing about the guy besides his name.”
“Duh,” Sayla says. “Because Loren’s my friend, not yours.”
“I’m allowed to like her, though.”
“Of course. Everyone likes Loren. She’s the absolute best.”
“Do you like the man she’s marrying, though?” I ask. “Foster, right?”
“Yes.” Sayla sets down her coffee. “He’s a neurologist. He’s been treating Loren’s dad for the past couple years. That’s how they met.”
“Ah.” I blow out a breath. And now I feel terrible for secretly hoping Foster Abel was some kind of jerk. I guess a part of me just wanted to be able to root for Bridger over him. But if Foster is her father’s doctor, I genuinely hope he makes her happy.
Sayla sighs. “I just wish there was something more I could do for her, you know?”
“Yeah. I do.”
Her eyes go soft, and something warm flickers behind my ribcage.
Oh, man. I like this woman.
Reallylike her.
I clear my throat, just as her phone goes off, echoing with the staccato pulse of a FaceTime request. She checks the screen.
“Speak of the devil,” she says, hopping off the bed. “It’s Loren. I’m gonna take the call outside.” She starts for the door. “You’d better get dressed. Breakfast is in ten minutes. And?—”
“On time is late,” I say. “I remember.”
“You’re learning.”
“You’re a good teacher.”
“I am, aren’t I?” A slow smile breaks across her face.
Chapter Fifteen
