Page 106 of The Runaway Bride of Blossom Branch

“Very funny.” Cate sighed. “I’ll admit, it feels strange. Jason and I were supposed to be house hunting right about now. But that’s in the past. I’m learning how to pivot. Honestly, I’m okay. Maybe not a hundred percent yet, but I’m getting there. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

Leah squeezed her hand. “I’m glad, hon. That was a terrible, awful, no good very bad day. None of us want to remember it.”

Becca nodded. “She’s right. But the thing we’ve been afraid to ask you is...”

Both Cate’s sister and her friend looked uncomfortable. “Go ahead,” she said. “Ask me anything.”

“Are you still in love with Jason?” Leah’s face was sober, her gaze concerned.

This was tricky. Cate had been struggling with similar questions since June 7. “I’ve spent a lot of time pondering that. I feel stupid and clueless when I say this, but I think Jason was right to do what he did. Not the timing. That was agonizing. Still, I’ve come to realize that our relationship was having a few bumps I had been ignoring.”

“Oh.” Leah frowned. “Meaning what?”

“I love Jason. I think I always will. But we weren’tinlove. I was so caught up in planning the wedding that I didn’t see the truth. There were signs...now that I look back. I wish I had been more tuned in to Jason’s feelings. And my own, for that matter.”

Becca scrunched up her face. “I’ve seen you two together for years. If you didn’t have the kind of love it takes to sustain a marriage, how will any of us ever find that?”

“Good question,” Leah said glumly. “Men say we’re complicated, but I think it’s the other way around.”

Cate almost blurted out the truth about Harry. But was there any point? She and Harry were sleeping together. That was an intimate detail she didn’t feel comfortable sharing. Not when the relationship wasn’t going anywhere long term.

There was one last thing Cate had wrestled with...and still had no answer. She looked at Leah. “Do you know why Gabby is acting weird?”

“You asked me that before.” Leah shrugged. “I’ve talked to her several times. And we had dinner one night recently. She seemed fine.”

“So, it’s just me?”

Becca drained her water glass and set it down with a thump. “Maybe she doesn’t know how to help you. That can make people act odd. Especially when their friends and family members are grieving. No point obsessing about it.”

“I suppose.”

Leah nodded. “She’s probably hurting for you and doesn’t know how to express it.”

By the time Cate made it back to Harry’s place, it was almost six o’clock. She had texted him to let him know when she would be home.

Harry had offered to cook. Spaghetti again.

When she walked in the front door, she smiled. “Something smells wonderful.”

He came out of the kitchen and kissed her, his lips lingering until her knees wobbled. When he finally released her, he grinned as if he knew exactly what he did to her.

“It’s just about ready,” he said. “I’ve poured you some wine.”

While they ate, she told him about the museum class and seeing Leah and Becca afterward. “I’ve officially offered my baby sister a job. I hope that’s not a mistake.”

“Why would it be?” he asked. “People usually thrive when they’re motivated. I predict Becca will turn out to be invaluable.”

They chatted a few minutes about Harry’s work, and then he poured more wine for each of them. “This is nice,” she said, relaxing as some of her stress melted away.

Harry stared at her intently. “I feel like I’ve hardly seen you this week.”

“It’s only Wednesday,” she pointed out. But she knew what he meant. They had shared a bed Monday night, but Tuesday had been nonstop for both of them. In fact, Harry hadn’t made it home from the office until 1 a.m. last night. Cate had gone to sleep in her own bed. Harry had scooped her up and carried her tohisroom when he found her missing.

Though they hadn’t indulged in sex, they had slept in a tangle of arms and legs with Cate’s head on Harry’s chest. It had been warm and wonderful.

Now he was looking at her as if it had been weeks of deprivation instead of forty-eight hours. “You never told me what you did Monday and Tuesday,” he said.

“Well, I met with the museum director for an hour...”

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