Tiffany took her mother’s arm and lifted the wine from her hand. “I’m sorry, Avery. I think Mom’s one over her limit.”
“No.” Avery had to force the word out, her chest now coiled into a hard knot. “It’s all right.”
Tiffany leveled an apologetic—possibly even piteous—look at Avery and mouthed, “I’m sorry.” As she led her mother away, she said, “I’ll call you.”
Avery nodded, but she remained rooted in that spot while the guests rose from their tables to gather in a seating area that surrounded a fire pit, where gifts had been stacked on and around a chair.
In one way she felt numb. In another, she swore she was on fire. A million thoughts spiraled in her brain, thousands of emotions clashed in her chest. But an overwhelming sense of betrayal clouded everything.
There had been a million things about her divorce and her marriage Avery hadn’t understood when they were happening. Things she still didn’t understand now. But after all the fights, all the counseling, and all the tears, she’d come to believe that David was simply more committed to his life as a soldier. And that a soldier’s life would never be congruous to a wife and family. Avery had believed his reason for wanting the divorce: because his heart belonged to the US Army.
But it was now obvious his heart had belonged to someone else as well—and it hadn’t been Avery.
She took a slow, deep breath. The air stuttered into her lungs, and tears stung. Her brain was already busy stuffing the hurt into dark corners to protect her heart. The pain didn’t stem from losing someone she still loved or still wanted. This was pain born from the deepest kind of betrayal. She’d dedicated her entire adult life to making David happy, to supporting his dreams and goals, to seeing him succeed—even while sacrificing her own—because they’d made a promise.
Until death did they part.
Which was when she had an epiphany. One she should have had a hell of a long time ago: promises meant shit.
Her parents promised they’d always love each other—lie. Her mother promised she would always take care of Avery and her sisters—lie. Her oldest sister, Delaney, promised she would keep the family together after their mother left—lie. The boy Avery had loved promised escape and everlasting happiness—lie. The man that boy had become had promised their divorce was because of who he’d become in the army, not another woman—lie.
Lies. All lies. Every important turning point in her life had been based on one lie or another.
With her head spinning in confusion, her heart swimming in hurt, Avery turned toward the kitchen and pushed through the swinging door. Staff the Mulligans had hired for the night busily filled pitchers with drinks, arranged trays with more of Avery’s desserts, and whisked in and out of the kitchen with wine and coffee. Thankfully, they let Avery have the quiet moment she needed to pull herself together.
She pressed her hands to one of the granite counters, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath to ease the stabbing pain in her chest.
“Congratulations, honey.” Phoebe’s voice startled her, and Avery jumped, turning toward the door where her aunt had followed her in. She looked so young and fresh in a pretty violet dress that pulled out a purple hue in her blue eyes. Her silver hair was down, styled in loose curls to her chin. “Sorry, sweetie. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I was just thinking about this cake,” Avery lied, forcing her gaze to the paper in her hand. “It’s going to need structural support.”
“Maybe Trace can help you out.”
Trace. Avery barely resisted rolling her eyes. Another disappointment. Another rejection. At least he hadn’t broken a promise. Yet.
“This is a great foot in the door to the wedding business,” Phoebe said, squeezing Avery’s shoulder. “Nancy’s already raving about you.”
Avery nodded, trying to pull herself out of the murky hole she’d fallen into. “Weddings bring in a lot of money.”
“And they lead to other events. The Hadleys want to talk to you about catering their daughter’s baby shower in July.”
“Great.” Avery had to admit, Phoebe was a marketing dynamo. Luckily, Avery was also quite good at pretending nothing was wrong. She should be; she’d been pretending for years. Pretending as long as others had been lying. Did that make her a liar, too? “These special events will really help float the café for the first year.”
Phoebe patted her hand. “Come out when you’re done here, and I’ll introduce you to the Hadleys.”
“Phoebe?” Avery said as her aunt pivoted to leave. When Phoebe turned with an expectant smile, Avery said, “How about if I set up a private meeting with them, upstairs at the café so they can see how pretty the event space is coming along. Maybe they’ll choose to have the shower there. I’ll create a selection of my best pastries and serve sparkling wine. Can you just get a few good dates for the meeting? I’m exhausted and starving, and if I don’t sit down and eat something without sugar in it, I think I’m going to faint.”
Phoebe laughed. “Of course, honey.”
On Phoebe’s way out, a figure beyond the swinging door caught Avery’s eye. She did a double take just as T
race put his big hand against the wood to hold the door for Phoebe, but his gaze held on Avery.
Her stomach jumped, flipped, and fell. God, he took her breath away, even when she saw him again after being gone only a short time. They’d both been on the job site together all day, and she’d seen him a dozen times in passing, but he was showered and dressed in clean jeans and a gray, long-sleeved Henley with LINKIN PARK emblazoned on the front. His hair pitch-black, his eyes electric blue, his body hard as rock.
He definitely released butterflies in her belly and drew her attention away from the lingering sting of betrayal.
“Hi there, Trace,” Phoebe said. “Here to pick up Pearl?”