Page 32 of Seale the Deal

There’s a weird half beat of silence, and I feel the urge to fill it.

Dusty rose! I blurt.

Ruger must have had the same idea because at the same time, he says, Yellow.

Dusty rose and yellow, Remi slides in smoothly.

Together? Beryl’s face wrinkles with polite confusion.

I look at an unconvinced Beryl, then at Remi, who is keeping her face even, but I see a note of worry in her eyes. She doesn’t know what to say, and this is my place to shine.

More of a gold, really, I say quickly. With sage accents.

Beryl smiles. Well, that sounds lovely. I hope to see you around town, Wrenley.

As soon as she’s out of sight, Remi turns on her brother. Yellow?

Ruger looks defensive immediately. I like the colour.

Okay, but a yellow wedding? Remi asks. I’d look terrible in yellow.

I didn’t realize my wedding was all about you.

I press my lips together, trying not to laugh into my coffee.

Remi points at me. Don’t encourage him.

I’m sorry, I say, absolutely not sorry. I’ve just never experienced anything like this. That’s two people heavily invested in a wedding we weren’t even planning to have.

And now, apparently, have to, Ruger says, then drags a hand down his face. I shouldn’t be surprised we can’t quietly get married and move on with our lives, but now we have wedding colours?

Nice save, by the way, Remi tells me.

I shrug. Taking a million courses on colour theory really helps in moments like these.

Silence settles over us as we watch the waves on the ocean. Then Remi starts laughing, and for some reason, I join her.

Ruger looks between us. What are you two laughing about?

This whole thing, Remi says. It’s so absurd it’s… funny.

Ruger shakes his head, but I catch the edge of a smile pulling at his mouth.

And as I sit between the Seale twins, watching them bicker about whether this is funny or deeply inconvenient, I realize it doesn’t feel like me dragging people into my disaster anymore.

It feels like we’re all in this together.

Chapter 4

Wrenley

DAYS LEFT ON VISA: 89

We didn’t get a chance to see much of the town because apparently, walking ten feet in Alpine Harbor without getting trapped in a thirty-minute conversation is physically impossible. Every person knew Ruger and Remi. And thanks to Bonnie, everyone already knew Ruger was engaged. Once people confirmed I was the fiancée, conversations started growing the way snowballs do rolling downhill, with more people wandering over to introduce themselves, ask questions, and casually absorb every detail they could get of my existence.

In the city, you can hide in plain sight. Blend in with the crowd, slip through the cracks. The odds of running into someone you know are practically zero. But here? It’s like The Truman Show. Everyone’s got a story, a cousin, an opinion, or all three.

It’s beyond exhausting.