Southern Seducer (North Carolina Highlands 1)

“Oh, Annabel, that’s great news. I’m so glad. I was worried about you.” Mom leans in and crooks her finger underneath Maisie’s chin, making her giggle. “I was worried about you, too, you little nugget.”

“I was scared. My girlfriends warned me the first day could be tough. And it was. Juggling actual work and pumping and eating and not falling asleep at my desk—it was hard.”

Mom frowns. “That job you have is so intense.”

“I know. It’s what I signed up for. But honestly?” I sip my water and turn on the sweet potatoes. I’m trying to replicate Samuel’s recipe, although let’s be real, I’m not half as good at this cooking thing as he is. “The break from constant baby duty was nice. I mean, I had to pump every two and a half hours. I could’ve stretched it to three, but I was terrified of leaking through my bra, so I didn’t have huge stretches of uninterrupted time. But my day, it wasn’t constantly interrupted by a crying baby. I got to interact with adults. I got to eat my lunch in peace at my desk.”

Mom’s frown curls into a smile. “Would you have ever imagined work would be a break?”

“No,” I say, laughing. “But it’s true. I felt like I could breathe a little easier, being on my own. Also helps that our nanny is awesome. Maisie was pretty content when I got home earlier. Which is really saying something, because it was smack dab in the middle of her usual witching hours.”

“Good. All good things.” Mom looks back down at Maisie. “Any word from Beau?”

Another sip of wine. “No.”

I texted Samuel when we got back to Charlotte. He replied with a standing invitation to Blue Mountain and a smiley face emoji.

Other than that, I haven’t heard a peep from any Beauregard. Beau included.

Not gonna lie, I’ve thought about reaching out to him. But I haven’t had the time. Even if I did, I’m not sure what I’d say.

Hey, I think you’re a shit for what you did, but I miss you and hope you’re well?

“Do you think it makes me a jerk?” I ask Mom. “Not checking in on my best friend? The guy who’s likely got a brain injury?”

Mom shrugs. “He hasn’t checked in on you. And after what he did…”

“I know.” I swallow. “I just miss him like crazy.”

I was an idiot to ever think I could keep things casual with Beau. That was a mistake on my part. I don’t regret what we did. I don’t want to take back what went down between us during those weeks, because they were some of the best of my life.

But I do regret losing him this way. Not as a lover necessarily, although that’s awful, too.

More than anything, I regret losing him as a friend.

There’s a hole in my life where he used to be.

Take today, for example. He would’ve been the first person to check in on me throughout the day. Would’ve made me laugh when I needed it.

He’d be the first person I called after I got home to fill him in on how it all went. We’d have dinner together over the phone and we’d talk about everything and nothing. He’d ask about my boss and my clients. I’d ask about the latest happenings at his resort and his family.

It’s weird and it’s horrible, not having him to call anymore.

It’s my worst fear about our whole situation coming true.

That’s what hurts the most.

I want to wallow in my misery. But Mom is here, and the baby needs to be put to bed. Sweet potatoes are boiling over.

This is my real life today.

My new normal.

So I give the potatoes a stir and ask, “How’s Larry?”

Mom smiles again, blushing.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Beau

“Ho-ly shit,” I breathe, climbing out of my car.

I’m in my Sunday best. Custom-made suit. Gucci shoes, socks, and belt, because I need to take small pleasures where I can get ’em.

I chafe a little against my shirt collar and tie. My clothes are tight in the arms and chest, loose around the waist. Still can’t eat much.

But that doesn’t spoil the magic set out before me.

The rain stopped two days ago. We’ve had sun ever since, these magical seventy-degree spring days that are right out of an Asheville Chamber of Commerce brochure.

It’s late afternoon now, the light golden and warm. The lawn, neatly mowed, is set with three hundred matching white chairs. They face an enormous chuppah made of magnolia branches and what must be at least a thousand white blooms. I can smell their scent from here.

Sweet. Earthy.

My heart spasms.

Why God must everything, everything, remind me of Annabel?

Why do I have to see all this and think, yeah, this is exactly how I’d want our wedding to look and feel?

The gauzy fabric that forms the chuppah’s roof billows gently in the breeze against a backdrop of the Great Smokies. Milly’s assistants are tying bunches of magnolia leaves and blossoms to the chair at the end of each row. Blankets in shades of green and white are draped over every other chair, lest guests catch a chill during the ceremony.