Page 3 of White Horizons

“We could always learn Morse code and send each other messages,” I say jokingly.

“I bet Bryce would like that,” he replies as if he’s actually considering it.

Bryce is my sister’s son. He’s five going on fifteen, and I love it when he comes to stay with me. Recently, I got him his own tool belt, and he’s had the best time helping me fix this place up. I want him to feel like he’s contributing. I want him to feel like this is his home too.

I actually got really lucky with this house. Right after we came off the mountain that fateful day, I ran into Tripp Redd in the ski lodge. He’s a guy Ash and I have known for years who also happens to be the son of Ash’s realtor. The second I saw him, I knew. It’s as if the moment I decided to take my life in my hands, there he was, and honestly, I like everything about this house way more than Ash’s.

Then again, I’ve spent the last ten months staying in and renovating it mostly on my own, making it exactly what I want. It was kind of a dive before, a little smaller, older, and not updated, but I’ve given it life and I feel like I have to myself as well. The time spent working with my hands has kept me company, inspiring me to write some new songs for an album we’d like to release next year. It revived me in a way, and I love the outcome.

Aside from the elevation difference between our two homes, Ash loves a country feel, but personally, I prefer more of a modern, clean-line look: white, light-colored wood, airy spaces. I won’t get the sunrise he does since I’m on the northeast side of the lake, but getting up early has never been my thing unless there’s fresh powder, so only seeing sunsets is fine with me.

“Speaking of installations, I’m still dumbfounded over these floors.” He glances down and then out across the room. “The herringbone pattern is something and really does make the look of this space. You sent me pictures, but they don’t do what you’ve done here justice.”

I follow his gaze and look for any places where the wood might have not lined up perfectly, but I don’t find any. This floor took me a long time, and I’m damn proud of it.

“Thanks. I’m just glad I decided to use the white oak. At the time I wasn’t planning on Moose, yet here he is, and the floors aren’t too scratched. At least not yet.”

Ash and I found a dog while on our last tour, the Round Up. His name is Whiskey, and he lived on the bus with us. When Ash pulled his disappearing act last year, Whiskey went with him, and I not only suddenly found myself homeless here at the lake, but also dogless. I wasn’t planning on Moose, but Bryce loves dogs, and I wanted him to have one at my house too. I surprised everyone when I bought a poodle—after all, it’s not a very manly dog—but this dog is amazing. He’s standard size and trending toward seventy pounds. He doesn’t shed, I keep his hair clipped short ensuring there’s no terrible poodle fluff, he’s wicked smart, and so far, Bryce hasn’t had any allergy problems with him. He’s dark brown, and where I thought Bryce would name him Bear, he said no because his legs are long like a moose.

Hearing his name, he pops his head up from the bone he’s currently chewing on and observes us suspiciously. We both look at him, and he cocks his head to the side. Ash chuckles.

“So, are you ready for tomorrow?” I ask, patting him on the shoulder as I walk back to the kitchen. I grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator and toss it to him while grabbing one for myself. I’ve been nervous all day about tonight and this weekend, and I hate that I am. I hate that she still makes me feel this way.

“I’ve been ready,” he declares. He smiles, and it’s such a real, sure expression that if anyone had any doubts about his love for Avery, this would squash that—not that they do. “I just want her to have the day she’s always dreamed of.” He cracks open the bottle and takes a long pull.

The day.

Ash and Avery’s wedding day.

“As long as you’re there, nothing else will matter to her in the end.” I give him a reassuring smile.

“That’s exactly how I feel.” He glances at Moose, lost in thought, and then looks back at me. His expression is one of contentment but tinged with hopeful anticipation. He’s happy, and I’m very happy for him. “I know I see her every day, but there’s something about seeing her at the end of the aisle in a white dress and walking toward me. I’m anxious, but in the best way.”

My chest tightens and my nostrils flare as I try to rein in my emotions. Yes, he’s had me and my family for years, but that doesn’t completely erase his loss and the feeling of being alone. I know he would argue differently if I asked, but I don’t need to; I know him well enough. Losing his only parent, his grandfather, at thirteen left its mark, but after tomorrow, he won’t be alone anymore.

Me on the other hand, I’m not looking forward to seeing Emma at the end of the aisle. It’s a vision I don’t want as a memory. Have I seen her off and on over the last year? Yes. It’s kind of hard to avoid her given who our friends are, but it doesn’t get easier. Instead, my mind wanders to the “what could have been” scenarios of our life, and then I get angry—angry with her for lying to me, angry with myself for even allowing myself to go there, and then angry for days as I dwell on why I did.

“Well then, we should probably get going,” I tell him. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we get to your girl and that aisle tomorrow. Besides, the wedding coordinator has texted me twice to remind me I had better be at the rehearsal on time.” I pick up the remote and turn up the music to keep Moose company while we are gone. “As if I’d ever be late and deal with Avery’s wrath.”

Granted, Avery hasn’t been a bridezilla like celebrities are so often portrayed, but her friends are making up for it. Emma and Cora have had their hands deep in the planning, and I’ve received no less than fifteen emails over the last six weeks with instructions and requests. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they’re enjoying this more than Avery.

“Yeah, she’s already texted me three times,” he says in a flat tone as he sets his water down and then pulls out his phone to see if he has any new notifications. Ash is staying here with me tonight to give Avery and her friends their house, but I’m not sure why; whenever he’s not with her, he’s like one of those rude, annoying people who constantly talk on FaceTime in public with the volume turned all the way up. As much as they talk, he may as well have just stayed home.

“Do you think she’s this intense with her day-to-day life, or with just her job? I can’t imagine living like this.” I chug down the rest of the water and toss the bottle in the recycling bin.

“Who knows. Avery said she’s the best, so that’s why I’m tolerating her.” He shoves his phone back in his pocket while I make my way to my office where I grab a small silver package off the bookshelf.

Following me, he takes the present and holds it almost endearingly. Instead of keeping it in their house, he had it hand delivered to mine so Avery wouldn’t find it. It’s a pair of blue diamond solitaire earrings that cost a fortune, but they’ll match her blue diamond engagement ring. Blue is kind of their thing, and they even wrote a song together called Blue to Blue, which was nominated for song of the year at the CMAs next month.

“Well, we shouldn’t keep them waiting then.” I clap him on the shoulder.

“No, we shouldn’t.” His energy shifts to excitement and a smile takes over his face.

Meanwhile, my insides are shifting to dread, and the motto I’ve firmly adopted for this weekend takes hold.Fake it till you make it.

3

EMMA

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