Page 142 of Seale the Deal

Good, right? Remi grins.

I nod furiously. Words are pointless now. Cake is life.

Remi tries a chocolate piece, melts into her chair, and sighs. Chocolate espresso.

Remi is scanning the tray for her next victim, but I just pick at the icing on the cake currently on my plate. I watch as she selects two different samples, one white with some kind of fruit in it and another chocolate with a layer of jam. Her eyes are wide with excitement, like she’s been given the greatest responsibility known to mankind. The more I watch her, the more I know she’s my person. She’s chaotic and unapologetic about who she is and what she wants, right down to helping herself to two cake samples that technically I should be trying since it is my wedding. But I don’t care, because I trusted her with bringing me to Alaska, so why wouldn’t I trust her opinion on cake? Or Tammie Roswell’s offer?

If I can’t tell her about the email, what chance do I have of telling Ruger?

Remi, can I talk to you about something?

She freezes, cake halfway to her mouth. Did you want to try these ones?

I let out a breathy chuckle. No.

I reach into my purse and pull out my phone, tapping through my inbox until I find the email. Then I slide the phone across the table.

Without asking any questions, Remi shoves the bite of cake into her mouth and takes it.

I tap my foot nervously beneath the table while her eyes move across the screen. At first, her expression is focused, but as she keeps reading, her brows lift higher and higher. By the time she sets the phone down, she’s stopped chewing and just stares at me.

Slowly, she swallows.

Wrenley. The way she says my name makes my stomach drop. Is this real?

I checked the email address three times and compared it to the fashion house’s website, I say. I’m pretty sure it’s real.

Holy shit. She picks up the phone again, her eyes scanning it faster this time. Holy shit!

I’m going to need more than that.

Who’s Tammie Roswell?

I let out a slow breath because where do I begin?

She was one of the more senior executives at my ex’s company. Her opinion could make or break a collection. She was brilliant, terrifying, and never once softened a critique to spare someone’s feelings. She tore apart many of my designs over the years, but every single time, they came back stronger because of it. I shake my head. Then one day, she just left with no warning. She decided she was done and moved to Los Angeles. A few months later, everyone was talking about the incredible job she landed and how she’s somehow managed to come out even further ahead.

And she’s seeking you out?

I nod slowly, still hardly believing it myself, and I’ve had days to sit with this.

She puts down the phone and looks at me. Wren, this is huge.

I know.

Remi’s mouth drops open, and she shakes her head in disbelief. I mean, this is exactly what we were hoping for. You have to do this, Wrenley—this kind of opportunity isn’t going to come again. They already want to talk to you, and this Tammie woman is personally making introductions. This is—

Ruger, I cut her off before she can keep painting the life I thought I’d never have.

The second his name leaves my mouth, the excitement in her expression drains away, replaced by understanding.

Oh. She sinks back into her chair. Right.

I didn’t say it, but after our hike, I was convinced this was the place for me, I say. I could actually picture a future that made me happy. I couldn’t imagine leaving all of this just to move to a city where I’d spend every day fighting for a career I thought I needed when I’m already working a job I love here. I don’t know when it happened, but Fabric Delights stopped feeling like this volunteer position to pass the time and started feeling like the life I actually wanted.

Remi nods but doesn’t say anything.

But now, this opportunity is here, and it’s hard to say no, I admit. I care about Ruger so much that part of me wants to delete this email and pretend I never saw it. But what you said, about how I spent years building my life around someone else’s plans, is so true. Maybe saying no is the right choice right now, but what if it isn’t? What if ten years from now, I’m bitter because I did what I did with my ex again? What if I sacrificed my prime working years for love and never gave myself a chance to see how far I could go?