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“You can’t just ignore it, Ky.” Her eyes are full of sympathy and understanding.
Alara knows how close I am with my mother, even if she drives me crazy sometimes. We work side by side, and it’s devastating to find out she’s not the person I thought I knew. I feel so betrayed. I can only imagine how my dad will feel when he finds out.
“I know, but I’m not sure I’m ready. I mean, how could she, of all people, do this? She’s used our family, her ‘perfect’ marriage”—I put the word perfect in air quotes—“to sell her bridal designs and brand the business. Do you know how many photoshoots we’ve done as a family to benefit the business? Ones where she and my dad look so in love? Her perfect Nilsen family. I didn’t know I was helping to perpetrate a lie. What a joke.”
She doesn’t say anything but blows out a breath.
She knows, as well as I do, how much my mom has marketed us as one big happy family. It’s an essential part of the brand at this point. Brides think it’s good luck to have their dress designed and made by us because of it. And now I find out that none of it’s true.
“I’m really sorry.”
I nod. “Anyway, last night was a great distraction to keep me from thinking about all of that.”
“But you’ll have to?—”
“I know, but I’m not ready. I need a day or two to process it.”
“But don’t just bury it, Ky. That’s not healthy.”
I divert my eyes to get away from this conversation. Alara is always who I tell big news to, but now that I’m saying it out loud, I’m not sure I was ready to believe and accept it myself.
That’s when I seehim.
“Oh my god.” I move to pick up the menu but remember it’s no longer on the corner of the table because the waitress took it after we ordered. I scan the table, pick up a napkin, and put it over the bottom part of my face.
“Um…” Alara looks over her shoulder and turns back around, laughing hysterically, drawing attention to us. “You’re not being inconspicuous, you know. If anything, you’re making yourself more obvious.”
“I left his hotel room early this morning in order to dodge the awkward morning thing.” I slide to the far end of the booth, hoping to stay hidden.
“And did the walk of shame through the lobby.”
I drop the napkin and throw a creamer at her. “What am I going to do?” She turns around again, and I throw another creamer at her. “Stop looking!”
“Who’s the little boy? He’s cute. I didn’t know Rowan Landry was a single daddy.” She raises her eyebrows up and down several times.
“He’s not. Henry Hensley is.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You really need to stay off the hockey blogs.”
“I didn’t learn that from the hockey blogs. You know I love the sport. I grew up with it, so how can I not know so much about it?”
“Want to sneak out the back?” she asks.
As I’m about to say yes and leave some money on the table, Rowan walks my way. “Damn it.”
I’m guessing he’s taking the boy to the glass wall where all the kids want to watch the chef flip the pancakes. He usually makes a show of his art, making pancakes into shapes and figures.
“He’s coming this way, isn’t he?” Alara’s amused smile makes me almost pick up another creamer, but I refrain, too scared to move in case I draw his attention to our booth.
“Here you go, ladies.” Our waitress cuts him off in the aisleway, and he has to stop with the boy in his arms who’s still eyeing the window. “Pancakes and strawberries.” She slides me my plate. “And the waffle flight.” She puts Alara’s dish in front of her. “Enjoy. I’ll be back to check on you.”
The damage is done because Rowan is staring at me. The slow grin that grows on his face brings to mind all the times he made me come last night. I had an amazing night with him, and my body reacts as if I didn’t get enough.
“Leigh,” he says as if he’s been waiting to run into me for a year instead of mere hours.
“Hey.” I lift my hand.
He steps up to the edge of our table. The boy doesn’t give us any of his attention, staring over Rowan’s shoulder at the pancake man. Our eyes lock for a moment, neither of us saying anything or acknowledging the awkward coincidence.
