Page 64 of Heartbreaker
“Hey, at least we don’t have to scout locations. We have the perfect one right in front of us. It’s where you’ve always wanted to get married. Right here, at Willow Pond.”
Tears prick the corner of my eyes. He remembers that? I think I’ve only mentioned that once. Somewhere between our third and fourth dance at Moxie’s wedding—a beautiful ceremony on the cliffs of New England between her and Nic Swanson, her long-time boyfriend and a former wrestler who retired after a career-ending neck injury—John asked me where I wanted to get married. I told him Willow Pond Farm was the only backdrop I’d ever imagined. But that was…That was four years ago.
“Let me do this for you, Sweetheart,” John says.
“You do more for me than I’ve ever done for you.”
“That’s not true.” A breathy laugh fills the space between us in a warm, misty cloud. He tucks a few loose strands from my braid behind my ear before his fingers trail down my jaw. “I don’t need a piece of paper to know how much you love me or how much I love you, but I want it. And one day, Savannah, I am going to ask you to marry me.”
“Guess I’ll just have to keep waiting, then,” I say, with an exaggerated sigh.
He rolls his eyes and leans in for a kiss. Our lips brush just as a loud rooster’s crow sounds behind us. John sighs. “That damn chicken.”
“Oh, don’t be like that, Buddy loves you.” I try to bite back a giggle, only to fail as his brow rises to meet his hairline.
Buddy the Chicken is the oldest chicken we’ve ever had at the farm, and by far the nosiest. Over the years, he’s had a knack for perfectly timed interruptions, especially when it comes to me and John.
Untangling myself from our embrace, I stuff my hands into my coat pockets, walking backward to the coop to collect eggs and clean it out. “Better get inside, Mamá has missed your mornings filled with coffee and contemplation.”
“Are you done?” John asks, bringing the conversation to a halt. He glares over the table as one server clears away the dirtied plates and silverware while another sets the black checkbook in front of him. “Because I am.”
We just spent two whole hours listening to his sister tell us—in excruciating detail—about the vacation she and her fiancé had taken with none other than Leeland Cabot. That’s right, she and Samuel are joining us straight off the plane from Cabo, Mexico, where they just spent a week with John’s father and his girlfriend. Sorry, hisfiancée—I always forget that.
Leeland invited us, too, but my boyfriend sent a simpleNo, thanks.We’re goodin reply to the group text. John and I had work, and I knew better than to push him when he told me about it over dinner later that night. Over the last month, Ari has called more times than I can count—at least once a day—up until the day she left, begging him to reconsider. And now, that same energy is being used to try and convince her big brother to attend their father’s wedding…on New Year’s Eve…in Hawaii. After our luncheon with Leeland last April, John made it clear that he had no desire to see his father again. However, his sister has yet to receive the message.
“Ari, let me say this as simply as I can…I don’t care.”
“Brooks—”
“Idon’tcare,” he says, interrupting her. “And I hope you got it out of your system because I don’t want to hear about Cabo or Leeland or the wedding again. We’re not going, just like we didn’t go to Cabo. I want nothing to do with him.”
I slide my hand across the white linen and retrieve the checkbook, slipping our joint credit card inside and handing it to the server with an apologetic smile.
“Does Mom know you went on this trip?”
Samuel scoffs, earning a glare from Ari. “Don’t look at me like that,” her fiancé says. “I told you this was gonna come back and bite you in the ass.”
“Where does she think you’ve been the last week?” John asks.
“With Samuel’s family,” Ari says.
The server returns the bill to me and I sign it, keeping a close eye on my boyfriend as he simmers. I’m shocked he let her go on as long as he did, but it was better she get it out now before Debra and Grandma Aggie arrive. Speaking of…we need to get a move on if we’re going to be at the airport on time.
John rolls his lips between his teeth, glare narrowing on his sister. “Ari, I’m warning you. Do not bring this up again, but especially not around Mom.”
Ari huffs, straightening in her chair. “Fine, but only if you promise to consider going to the wedding.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“C’mon, Dad really wants you there.”
“I don’t care what he wants.”
“Careful, big brother,” Ari says, tossing her napkin on the table. “You’re starting to sound just like him.”
I gasp as she leaves without another word, and Sam sighs before pushing up from the table to follow her. John’s gaze is fixated on her retreating figure, but the emotion from moments ago has been completely replaced by something far more dangerous: betrayal.
“Good morning, Debra,” I say, joining her on the porch with two steaming mugs of coffee. She glances up from her book, eyes narrowed behind tortoise-shell eyeglasses. She’s been out here almost all morning. I first noticed her on my way in from the barn with Papá earlier. We got up earlier than usual to finish daily chores before Thanksgiving dinner preparations. That was two hours ago.
