Once We Met Page 4

  That was all the furniture there was in the room. Dan had also given them two metal folding chairs on the balcony and two bath towels, one of which Erika had claimed to take a shower.

  Erika stepped out to the porch, her eyes still looking red but better.

  Avery gestured toward the chair beside her. “You look better.”

  “Eh. I feel like I could start sneezing immediately. I haven’t had something trigger my allergies this way for ages.”

  “But Erika, I thought Asians didn’t get allergies?” Avery teased. An eighth grade math teacher had made that claim once when Erika told him she didn’t have a cold, just allergies. It had been a running joke between them since. They’d bonded as kids over their shared “half-Cuban” status in Miami, which meant that frequently people pegged them for the stereotypes of their “other side”—though in Avery’s case it was Italian, and in Erika’s it was Korean.

  Erika laughed. “We don’t. We stare at all you allergy-prone white people from our dry cleaners and nail salons, listening to our perfect children playing the violin and quoting calculus equations while thinking to ourselves how much it must suck to be you.”

  “Damn you Asians. You get all the good stereotypes. I tell people I’m Cuban and Italian, and they’ll say, ‘Oh, so you have a temper.’” Avery rolled her eyes.

  “Well, in fairness, you do have a temper. And at least they think you can cook. I say I’m bringing something to a potluck, and they think I’m going to show up with Chinese food.”

  Avery sipped her coffee, keeping a straight face. “Korean, Chinese—what’s the difference?” She winked, having had a lifetime of people expecting her to love Mexican food and knowing her friend’s gripe.

  “None. It’s the same damn country. All of Asia. Just one country. Sort of like all you Mexican people.” Erika sat in one of the folding chairs, and it creaked under her weight. Erika settled back, her eyes drifting to the back yard, which needed a good mow. “I’m sure it’s pretty when it doesn’t look like this.”

  Avery sank back in her chair. She hated that this was the way Erika had to experience the Serendipity for the first time. “I know you think I’m crazy for still wanting to do it here.”

  “Honey, it’s not that I think you’re crazy for wanting to do it here. That’s completely natural. It’s just that it’s probably impossible for that to happen. Admit that. How are we supposed to stay here? There’s got to be some other place near here.”

  “I spent a while going through all the apps and hotel sites on my phone while I was in town, and I couldn’t find anything. Even called some places. Everything is booked. It’s a good thing I had the wedding guests book their rooms so early—but now I have no idea what I’m going to do about the people who are supposed to stay here. It’s mostly family, but I don’t think my grandmother or Bryan’s parents are going to want to sleep on an air mattress.”

  Avery covered her face with her hands. Little things that she may not have paid attention to in the past now screamed for attention. But it didn’t look so bad from the outside. In need of repair and some love, but fixable.

  But that’s not even the biggest problem, is it?

  A lump formed in the back of her throat, and she swallowed hard.

  “Erika?” She peeked between two fingers toward her friend, then drew a deep breath. “There’s something else. The new owner of the Serendipity . . . he’s not just any guy. He’s Dan.”

  Erika’s dark brows drew together in confusion. “What?” Then her eyes widened. “Oh no, you don’t mean your Dan?”

  Avery nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s the one. And I’m pretty sure he still hates me.”

  The soft sounds of the Maryland summer filled the stunned air between them. Crickets sang an unending hymn, joined in a chorus by tree frogs and cicadas. The sharp punctuations of mockingbirds trilled from the tall, swaying treetops. Avery closed her eyes, remembering that hazy summer. So long ago. So many heartbreaks later.

  But that had been the first one.

  The first heartbreak is always the hardest.

  “You think he hates you?” Erika’s voice brought her to the present.

  Avery smoothed her hands on her lap and sighed. “Yes.”

  “I don’t know about that. He’s letting you do the wedding here, isn’t he?” Erika pulled a tissue from her pocket.

  “Yeah, but that’s because I offered him a lot of money.” Avery sighed, surprised at her regret. “I think somehow it was easier to think about him when I didn’t have to see how much he doesn’t like me anymore. Like, ‘Oh, remember that guy I fell so hard for when I was eighteen and how I’ve always wondered what happened to him?’ He’s always been my what-if. Now I know. He’s still here in Brandywood, and he hates me.”

  “You remember you’re here to get married?” Erika tilted her head to the side as she gave Avery a wary look.

  “I know, but what if this is one more thing that’s supposed to throw me off? Make me doubt?” If it were anyone other than Erika, she wouldn’t say such thoughts out loud. But Erika was the one person she could actually say this to.

  “Don’t tell me you’re convinced this is all that family curse stuff. You don’t still have feelings for this guy, Avery. It’s been twelve years. And time has a way of romanticizing past relationships. You barely knew each other.”

  Avery’s fingers curled into her palms. Even though Erika had been the only person she’d ever spoken to about Dan, Avery had brushed the whole thing off, acting like it had meant a lot less than it had. What choice had she had, anyway? Mom had deleted Dan’s contact information from her phone and forbidden her to use social media for her entire senior year.

  Mom had always been strict, but things went haywire after that. Avery’s curfew had gone from ten to eight. On the weekends. No parties or school dances.

  Not after she’d screwed up so badly with Dan Klein.

  She chewed on her lower lip. Something about the air here normally brought her a sense of calm she didn’t find anywhere else, but she didn’t feel it right now. Bryan had teased her about her love for Brandywood until he’d come with her last summer. She was glad she’d brought him. He had complained the whole time, of course, but when she’d suggested the Serendipity for the wedding, he’d agreed to it with only minor wrangling.

  She sighed. She’d been so sure that if she skipped right to the place where love had found a way in her family, everything would go smoothly—curse or not. “It’s not that I really think Bryan and I won’t get married.” Avery swirled the lukewarm coffee in her cup. A gnat tried to dive toward the sweet liquid, and she swatted it away. “But even you have to admit there have been a lot of crazy things happen, just in the past few hours.”

  “Not that crazy. So a guy you once slept with bought and is remodeling your wedding venue, and there’s nowhere for you or your family to stay for the wedding, and your wedding probably shouldn’t happen here.” Erika frowned, then winced. “Okay. I take it back. You’re cursed.”

  “Don’t forget the part where my best friend who came all the way from Miami to help me with wedding plans is ridiculously allergic to ragweed.” Seeing the gnat had succeeded in drowning itself in her coffee, Avery wrinkled her nose and set the cup down on the floorboards.

  “But look. Even if all that stuff really was real, you and Bryan love each other, right? This is what you want? To be here and to get married here. That won’t change because your wedding venue changes.”

  Avery shook her head slowly. “Unless the fact that I’m trying to do it here and I can’t is exactly why my wedding won’t happen at all. It honestly feels like something is trying to stop everything. Like I thought I was so smart by trying to outsmart fate by holding the wedding here, and now that’s the one decision that will blow it all up.”

  “So don’t do your wedding here. It’s that simple, Ave. Maybe it’s not a bad thing. You and Bryan have had this super-intense thing. You only dated for four months before getting engaged an
d moving in together. Maybe this is fate stepping in, giving you a chance to take a breath before marrying so fast.”

  Her words cut in a way Avery didn’t quite know how to explain. They’d even gotten into an argument when Avery had called to tell Erika about her engagement. Erika hadn’t shown the enthusiasm Avery had hoped for, and the thought of it still stung.

  What was worse, when she’d vented about it to Bryan, he’d been so furious, she thought he’d hold it against Erika. She’d learned a lesson that day: never vent to Bryan about Erika.

  “I know you think us getting engaged was just another impulsive move on my part—”

  “It was impulsive. But I didn’t blame you, did I? Bryan’s the one who proposed. I was just was . . . surprised. You’ve come a long way in becoming more cautious, which I appreciate. Maybe a smidge too cautious considering how anxious you were about that Uber thing earlier.”

  “Bryan brings out a more cautious side of me. He’s everything I needed to get back to my more responsible side. My delivery schedule for clients has never been more timely, I’ve gotten organized, and I’m making healthier choices. He encourages me in those things.” Despite her best effort, Avery couldn’t help keeping the defensive tone out of her voice.

  “And that’s great. Really. You were sort of floating along, being carried by the wind for a while.”

  Ouch. Not that Avery could argue. She’d gone through a rough patch the first few years after college, and then moving to San Diego.

  Erika reached up and rubbed a knot out of her shoulder, as though the conversation had her tense. "I’m not trying to question your relationship. It all seemed a little fast. But we’re here now, and we’ve got a bigger problem to deal with—and I don’t mean your ‘curse.’ Maybe we should come up with a list of alternatives?”

  “Unless . . . the fact that I’m now worried about doing it here is meant to discourage me so that I don’t do it here, which will keep the curse going. Which means I have to do it here.” Avery grimaced as the words came out of her own mouth.

  Erika blinked at her. “Do you even hear yourself? This isn’t Disney World. Curses aren’t real. You’re making my head spin with all this.”

  If she was honest, Avery would admit she was making her own head spin. Did she really put that much weight in “the curse?”

  Her mom had been engaged twice before Dad, as had her grandmother before Abuelo.

  Although, her parents’ marriage had ended in divorce, so perhaps that shouldn’t be an example to live by.

  Her great-grandmother had been engaged a whopping four times.

  But even if the curse wasn’t true, she’d been dreaming of having her wedding here since she was a girl. She’d visualized saying her vows in front of the shimmering waters of the lake, dancing under the golden glow of sunset, while the scent of sweet mulled apple cider drifted from the buffet set up with the Smith Island cake she’d fallen in love with as a toddler and a display of Italian cookies, cannoli, tres leches, and mini flans.

  Was she ready to let all that go?

  Not yet.

  She’d always had an inexplicable tug to the Serendipity. My first proposal happened here, after all. She smiled at the memory. Gosh, she hadn’t thought about that for years. What had that little boy’s name been that she’d played with that summer? Johnny?

  “We could be married. Then you’d never have to leave.”

  Avery rubbed the glossy surface of her manicured thumbnail. “I’ve always wanted my wedding here, Erika. The curse stuff—it’s just extra motivation.”

  Erika reached over and set a hand on Avery’s knee, which had been bouncing nervously without Avery even noticing it. “Okay.” Erika’s voice was gentle but firm.

  “Okay?” Avery raised an eyebrow.

  Erika grinned. “If this is where you have your heart set on, then I’ll do whatever it takes to help you have the wedding of your dreams there.” She sniffled. “Even if your chosen wedding site is actively trying to kill me.”

  Avery’s heart lurched. Thank God for Erika.

  Chapter Six

  Dan dumped the contents of the box on the linoleum floor of the kitchen in front of where Peyton was sitting. A random spool of pink thread tumbled from the pile of junk and rolled across the floor, leaving a trail of string until it bounced against the old black refrigerator and spun to a stop.

  “Great,” Dan muttered. He exchanged a look with Peyton, who gave the pile a skeptical look. By now, Peyton had been with him long enough that they’d figured out that both Ken Harrison and his daughter had practiced a similar level of organization and disposition for cutting corners. In fact, they’d run into so many half-assed repair attempts, they’d made the family’s last name into a verb and started saying things around the house were “Harrisoned.”

  Brenda had handed Dan a box at closing and told him some important things were in it, including the keys to the storage unit where she’d stored all the furnishings, which she’d also sold to him. He hadn’t needed the keys yet, because he wasn’t ready to furnish the place again—or so he thought.

  “I’m looking for a key?” Peyton inspected the tangled pile of junk skeptically.

  “Yeah. There should be a tag on it that has the storage unit information. I think.” Dan plucked a few soy sauce packets from the top of the pile. “And if you see anything like this, just toss it.” He stood, steadying himself on the counter.

  Peyton pushed a dark lock of hair from his eyes. “You’re not really trying to move all the furniture back, are you?”

  “Right now, I’ll settle for getting those women beds. I gave them the air mattress I had up in my room, but it won’t be comfortable. I didn’t want to promise them beds tonight, but if I can swing it, I’d like to make it happen.”

  Peyton gestured at the pile of junk. “You sure that key is even in here?”

  It had better be. Brenda Harrison was in Georgia. If she hadn’t given him the key, that meant even more delays to getting into the unit. “I’m not sure of anything. But that’s where she said it would be.”

  “Hello?” Avery’s voice rang out in the hall, and Dan left Peyton there, searching through the junk.

  His heart slammed into his chest as he rounded the corner. She’d changed into khaki pants and a more casual sleeveless blouse and loosened her hair from the uptight bun into a ponytail. She still didn’t look like she was here for anything other than a business meeting, but damn—that ass. He checked himself, stopping his gaze from traversing her figure.

  She’s engaged, idiot.

  And it’s Avery.

  Dan gave her the easiest smile he could, sure he looked awkward. “How can I help you?” Trying to be cordial to this woman just might kill him.

  “I was thinking of going into town to grab a sleeping bag. Any place you can recommend? The closest Target is an hour away.”

  “Uh, yeah. Floyd’s. They have all that stuff. Tents, kayaks, hiking boots.”

  A divot formed between her eyebrows, the corners of her luscious lips turning up. Nope. Stop thinking about her lips that way.

  “If you’re telling me we all need tents, I may go cry.”

  “You, cry? Never.” Dan chuckled sarcastically. The first time he’d met her, she’d been crying. Hell, he was pretty sure she’d cried in some form or another every day he’d spent with her.

  “Hey! Cheap shot.” She glared, giving him a look of mock outrage. “Not all of us can be stoics, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. There’s only so much room for perfection in this world.” He winked. Being able to say whatever he wanted to her now was fun and oddly freeing. No pretense. No anxiety about wanting to make her like him. Hell, even with the average woman he met, he tried to be polite. But he didn’t have to do that with Avery. “Anyway, you should be good without a tent. I’m doing my best to get some furniture for the place.”

  “Thank you, I really appreciate it.” Avery clasped her hands in front of her tensely. If she had somethin
g else on her mind to say, she was struggling to do it.

  He cleared his throat. If someone ought to pay for the sleeping bag, it shouldn’t be her. Hell, he probably had a sleeping bag at his parents’ house, where he’d stored the few belongings he’d been able to recover from his place with Melissa before she’d changed the locks. His ex-girlfriend had been brutal in the division of possessions when he’d broken up with her—but Dan had been the idiot for getting rid of most of his things when they’d moved in together. And money for basics like a new mattress had felt low on the scale of priorities.

  Regardless of all that, he hadn’t thought twice about it when he was thinking of himself. But with Avery and her friend here, he couldn’t be so practical.

  As much as Avery had created a disaster for him to deal with, this situation wasn’t her fault either. That she’d never called to check on her own reservations seemed ludicrous, though. But he supposed that with her family coming here for so long, they had a certain way of doing things and feeling like plans would be taken care of.

  He sighed, cutting the awkward silence short. “You know, I think I have a sleeping bag. It’s not here, but I can take you with me to get it and then drive you into town for anything else you need, if it’s helpful.”

  Avery hesitated, looking over her shoulder for a split second. Then she nodded. “Yeah, that works. Let me just go tell my friend. She took so much Benadryl that I think she’ll be down for the count tonight. I may need to go buy some groceries next week, too. My fiancé is picky. Is it all right if we store them in your fridge?”

  “No problem.” Dan fidgeted as Avery slipped away again. He had little in the fridge anyway. A six-pack of beer he’d bought in anticipation of someone stopping by. All six remained. And a half-filled carton of milk, which he had with cereal every morning and with his peanut butter and jelly sandwich at lunch. Add that milk and some butter to a box of mac and cheese at night, and that rounded out his culinary skills.

  Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure he wanted Avery to know those details about his life. Back when he’d been on the force, they’d occasionally get calls to check on the shut-ins or elderly. Their fridges sometimes looked like his. Of all the tasks Dan disliked, that was the one that haunted him the most. People didn’t know just how many lonely people there were within the boundaries of their town.