“Pat is my date, Mom.”
“Oh, please. Do I look like I was born yesterday?”
“It’s true.” Jo wrung her hands, and he frowned wondering what she was doing with her fingers and then his eyes widened as he noticed she’d switched the diamond ring to her left ring finger. “As a matter of fact, we’re getting married.”
“What?” Garret looked as if they just claimed the sky was yellow and two plus two was nine.
Mr. and Mrs. Cook gaped at them. Mrs. Cook broke the silence first. “And this is how you tell us? Most people call or even write! What did we ever do to deserve such inconsideration from you?”
Jo smiled, and for once, Pat suspected she was suffering actual joy at her mother’s disappointment. “Aren’t you happy for us?” She hooked her arm through his and yanked him closer.
Garret scowled at him, but he didn’t know what to say. Pat agreed to pretend he and Jo were dating for a week. But marriage or being a fake fiancé was never on the table.
Mrs. Cook rolled her eyes. “No one likes a thunder stealer, Josephine. You’ll have your wedding, but this week’s about Ryan and Maggie.”
Jo laughed without humor. “Unbelievable. You could find the negative in anything I do.”
“This isn’t about you!” her mother shrilled. In a huff, she rose from her recliner, leaving a tangle of yarn in her wake, and stomped out of the room.
Jo looked at her father expectantly. “Daddy?”
He sighed. “You’ll have to wait until after your sister’s wedding. She got engaged first, and I’m not paying for two at a time.”
Pat’s stare jerked to Jo and his heart sank as he recognized the apology in her eyes. She knew. She knew and she didn’t tell him. “Julie’s engaged?”
Her apologetic eyes said it all. She’d kept this secret from him for a while.
Considering that he was supposed to be engaged to Jo, he should have done more to hide his shock. But part of him always believed Julie would eventually snap out of it and realize what an ass Lance was. He never actually expected her to marry the jerk.
And the longer Garrett watched him, the more transparent Pat felt. Rubbing the back of his neck, he glanced at Jo. “We should really get going. My mom’s expecting us.”
Chapter 3
“You missed the turn to your house.”
“I know.” Pat pulled into the parking lot of O’Malley’s and slammed the car in park. “Too far, Jo!”
“I’m sorry! She was saying so many hurtful things, and I wanted to hurl something back at her.”
“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about Julie! How long have you known?”
Her brows pulled tight. “He proposed about four months ago.”
“What the hell? We don’t lie to each other—ever. How could you keep this from me?”
“Well, look at you! You’re a mess. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m not a mess!”
“Pat.” She flipped down the visor, and his reflection flashed before his eyes. His complexion was blotchy and his skin wore a sheen of sweat. In a softer voice, she said, “I know you love her, but this isn’t healthy. People move on. We have to let them.”
His gaze dropped to his lap. “I just… I just thought I’d eventually have a shot.”
“I know.” The weight of her hand rested gently on his shoulder. “Me, too.”
He sighed. “I didn’t grasp how much I actually believed it would eventually happen, until I realized it wouldn’t. She’s actually going to marry him.”
“Did you really believe she wouldn’t? I mean, she moved to Maryland with him years ago. I don’t think she ever planned on returning to Jasper Falls.”
But in his head, she always came home. They had a charming little house on the outskirts of town and three little kids, all with pale blonde hair, like their mother, and his blue eyes. The youngest daughter would be sweet and precocious like Julie, the oldest would be brave and brazen like Jo, and the boy would be a Clooney through and through.
He needed help. In his head, he even had a list of names for their fake chocolate lab.
Grabbing the keys from the ignition, he shoved open the door. “I need a beer.”
Stepping into the dimly lit bar brought about a rush of nostalgia that was cut short by the unfamiliar changes in the lighting and painted walls. He frowned, noting the obvious improvement but rejecting it on principle.
“Okay, way too much shit’s changing,” Jo said, taking the words right out of his mouth.
O’Malley’s had always been owned by his family. But last winter, they sold it to his future sister-in-law and her sister—Peppin or Paris or something. He scanned the bar and assumed that was her.
“What do you want to drink?”
“Order me something from five years ago so we can reverse the hallucination I’m having,” Jo murmured. “Since when does O’Malley’s put out candles and flowers?”