Page 131 of Seale the Deal

Your place. I like that.

We all get into our respective vehicles. Brandt and Remi pull out first, and Ruger follows.

So, Ruger says. That was weird, right?

The hike?

Brandt and Remi.

I stare out the windshield, trying to buy myself a few seconds.

Carpooling makes sense, I say carefully. Good for the environment.

Ruger scoffs. Come on.

I look at the man I’m falling madly for, knowing Remi doesn’t want him to know. I think if there is anything to tell, we should let them tell us.

Ruger takes a breath, seemingly appeased by my answer, at least. He doesn’t push it further. Instead, he reaches across the console, takes my hand, and presses a kiss to my knuckles. My heart flutters at the feel of his lips against my skin, and it doesn’t stop as his thumb brushes over the top of my hand.

Thanks for entertaining my need for a hike, he says. I enjoyed it.

Anytime, I say.

And I absolutely mean it.

Chapter 27

Wrenley

DAYS LEFT ON VISA: 39

Remi and I climb the steps to Audrey’s front porch, our boots thumping against the wood.

The second I told Remi about the bridal shower idea, she was all in.

I am so pumped for this, Remi says, a basket of stuff for centrepieces in her arms. Do you know how many crafty people are in this town? I have a general idea for what we’re going to do, but I’m so excited to get some more ideas.

I chuckle as I knock on the door, and a fleck of chipped paint flakes off with the motion. Like much of Alpine Harbor, the house wears the marks of the salt air, but the bones of its charm remain. The door swings open to Audrey’s smile.

The bride is here! she calls, her voice carrying into the house. A cheer answers back from somewhere inside. Come in.

She steps aside, and we enter. The hardwood floors gleam under the light, crown moulding tracing the ceiling in crisp lines. Through the hallways, I catch sight of a kitchen island topped in quartz, and modern-looking cabinetry lines the walls. The house feels like the past and present carefully stitched together.

We’re downstairs, Audrey says warmly, leading us down a hallway toward a staircase. The steps creak under our weight as we follow her into the hum of voices below.

The basement opens up into a large open space. String lights loop across the ceiling, casting everything in a golden glow. Tables line the walls, scattered with finger food, and two large carafes marked hot water and coffee sit next to a basket filled with a colourful array of tea bags. The hum of voices rises and falls, punctuated with bursts of laughter.

The moment people notice me, conversation ripples to a pause, then surges again, louder and warmer. Smiles spread across faces, voices call out greetings, hands lift in waves. I see Bonnie across the room, a conspiratorial eye looking around. She’s next to an old woman who looks a little lost as to why she is there.

Remi leans closer when she notices me looking in their direction. That’s Agnes. The one we needed for the marriage certificate.

I nod. I see.

Wrenley!

Beryl’s gravelly voice cuts through the noise. She’s at a table in the corner, surrounded by a spread of fabric flowers and spools of thread. Audrey sits beside her, seeming to have picked up where she left off when she answered the door.

Remi nudges me toward them. Go. I see Walter’s wife, and she is a genius crafter.