Page 71 of Pink and Country

I shook my head. “No, we came back late last night. He said nothing about leaving early.” I shrugged.

“Guess we’ll come back some other time then.”

“Can I help you with something?”

Dahlia shook her head. “No. Not really. Jack wanted to say hello.”

“Huh, I—”

The little boy traipsed in our direction, Bernice in tow. “Look, April. We’re best friends.”

“I think Bernice loves you very much.”

“Jack, we’re leaving,” Dahlia said. “Uncle Carter isn’t here. We’ll come back another day.”

The boy squatted down and patted the cat’s head. “Bye, Bernice.” And without a warning, he hugged me next. “Thanks, April, for letting me play with your cat.” He grinned, and I ruffled his hair.

They both waved me goodbye as they drove away.

Inside, my mind wandered back to Carter. It wasn’t his style to leave without a note. Something felt off. I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly.

Did I do something to scare him away? Did the whole Nashville thing confuse him?

Fear prickled at my spine. I let go of the breath I was holding, praying Carter was okay.

For the rest of the day, I switched between worrying about Carter and working on my manuscript, moving chapters around. My mind wasn’t into it. I looked at the time on my phone screen at least a dozen times.

At the end of the afternoon, unable to focus anymore, I busied myself in the kitchen. Wherever he was, I was sure Carter would like a home-cooked meal after his long day. I decided on broccoli and cashew pasta. Unable to find cashews in the pantry, I sent him a text message, hoping he’d stop by the grocery store on his way back here.

He never replied.

Exhausted from the weekend, I sat in the living room, before the fireplace, a glass of white wine and a novel in hand. Around eleven, I climbed to my room. Carter didn’t make it home. I ended up making pasta with basil and tomatoes instead. For half an hour, I picked at my food, before throwing it away. I put the plate I fixed for Carter in the refrigerator and stuck a note on the plastic wrapper.

If you’re hungry. April

I woke up feeling like someone had sat on my chest all night. My shoulders and neck were strained. Covered with the white duvet comforter, I stretched my arms and legs. On the nightstand, I grabbed my phone. Carter had sent me a cryptic text message around two in the morning. The tightness in my chest increased. Something was wrong. Was I stupid for being mad at him? We were nothing more than friends. I was acting silly. Carter had engagements and probably tons of meetings every week. I shouldn’t worry. After breakfast, I went for a walk to clear my head. Last night, for the first time since I came to Green Mountain, I had insomnia. I tossed and turned most of the night. It was a miracle I didn’t hear the chime of my phone in the middle of the night when Carter texted me.

After forcing myself to eat a few bites of oatmeal—I still wasn’t hungry—I got dressed and ventured outside. Close to the gate, I returned Saunders’s call.

“Hey, Bubble Head, how is it going with your man?”

I sighed. “He’s not my man.”

“Did you guys have dirty sex the other night?”

I sighed. Again. “If you mean in Nashville, no, we didn’t.” I braced myself for the questions that would come.

“Did you panic?”

“Why do you think I’m the one to blame?”

“Well, are you? Tell me the truth, girl. It’s okay if you’re scared. But it’s also okay to let go.”

“Saund. Stop. Carter was the one who stopped our make-out session. He said he didn’t want us to be a fling and walked me back to my room.”

“Blimey. You’re kidding, right? You snogged, and he turned you away?”

I buried my face in my hand. “It wasn’t—”