Page 37 of Bluebell Promises

“She asked specifically if you could take him,” Ben said. “I told her that you’re a traveler and don’t usually stay in one place.”

Wren looked strangled with a mix of pain and confusion. She set Pierre down, then reached for the leash in Ben’s hand to secure him.

“Now that I see him,” Wren murmured, “I can’t imagine letting him go again. But maybe that’s just insanity.” With her camera bag on her shoulder, she turned and walked to the edge of the forest, plunging into the shadows. Ben followed close, confused.

For more than twenty minutes, they walked to the coast. Ben ached to ask Wren what was on her mind, but he had the sense that Wren needed quiet. He listened to the sounds of the woods instead, the rustling of the leaves and the twittering of birds. It was a place in flux, shifting from summer to autumn, and Wren stopped frequently to take photographs. She included Pierre in several of them, clearly amazed to have him before her again.

Ben found himself itching to take her hand as they walked through the forest with their little dog. Her little dog.

When they finally reached the rocky coastline, Wren sat on a flat rock, sipped her water, and watched as the waves crashed and sprayed white droplets everywhere. Pierre sat companionably beside her, following her gaze. Ben grabbed a rock not far from them, wanting to keep his distance. His tongue was heavy with personal expectation. He desperately wanted to ask her out.

Unless this was a date already? Was that why she’d asked him here?

His head swam.

Finally, Wren spoke. “You know,” she began tentatively, “things got really messy for me back in Greece. I tell everyone that I came back to Bluebell Cove for a photography assignment, but that isn’t really true. I had to escape Greece. I had to escape myself.”

Ben kept his face stoic. He had the sense that she was telling him something essential.

“It’s just that I don’t know if I can build anything with anyone right now,” she whispered, dropping her own gaze down to the dog. “I’ve been through a lot this year, and I don’t think I can give anything to anyone. I feel dried out.”

Ben’s heart lurched with feeling. Wren was admitting she had feelings for him. But she was also admitting that she couldn’t follow up on those feelings for reasons she didn’t want to get into right now. Ben didn’t know whether to celebrate or drown in sorrows.

“But I’d really like to be friends with you,” Wren whispered. “It’s so great that you’re at family events, and I love Landon and his kids. So maybe we can make things easy on ourselves?”

Ben nodded furiously, pretending that this was what he wanted as well. “That sounds really good to me,” he said. “Let’s make it easy.”

Wren smiled so brightly that it seemed to evaporate the ocean water from the rocks. Ben’s smile widened, but the beginning of a migraine wiggled up the back of his neck and entered his head. He hadn’t realized till right now how desperately he’d wanted to fall in love with her.

19

At the beginning of October, it seemed that all Bluebell Cove knew, now that it was fully autumn, was rain. It came in buckets, pummeling down on the sidewalks, driveways, and their cars. Unfortunately for Wren, it was moving day, so she ducked in and out of Ivy’s place with her suitcases, shoving them into the back of the new secondhand car she’d purchased four days ago, a Chevy. It was funny to have a car again. It was her first in many, many years.

Juliet, Ivy, and Celia were there to help as well, but in the end, there really wasn’t much to move. They followed her in Ivy’s car, parking behind Wren’s to help her carry everything into her one-bedroom house, which was located three blocks away from the Harper house. She was renting it month by month, so she could leave whenever she wanted. That was what she told herself.

At nearly five months pregnant, incredibly, her loose dresses still made her look only a little chubby rather than fully pregnant. She sat on the sofa in the living room of her new place with the dog Pierre beside her, watching the rain. Ivy had ordered pizza, and Celia and Juliet were opening a variety of alcohol-free and full-strength wines.

Wren had never hosted any of her sisters at her own place before. She’d never even had her own place before, not really, not during her numerous travels, her hotel stints, her week-by-week apartments in anonymous cities. Her heart leaped with excitement and fear. Was she going to bring the baby back here after giving birth? Was there enough space for her and the baby? She supposed there would have to be.

They raised their glasses and clinked, cheersing Wren’s new place.

“It’s so cute, Wrennie,” Juliet said. “Perfect for you.”

“I hope we can come by whenever we want?” Celia grinned.

“Of course,” Wren said. “I’d expect nothing less than nosy neighbors. Especially here in Bluebell Cove.”

The pizzas arrived, topped with chicken and black olives and red onions and jalapeños. Now that she was in her second trimester, Wren didn’t struggle as badly with nausea, and she ate like the food was going to disappear before she got to it.

Celia scrubbed her hands on a napkin and smiled. “I forgot to ask about the photos! How did it go?”

“It was great,” Wren admitted, smiling nervously. She wanted Celia to like what she’d done.

Yesterday, Wren had walked around both the inside and the outside of the Bluebell Cove Eco-Lodge, taking pictures for a website and social media rebrand that Celia thought would bring in more customers year-round rather than just during the summer months. After years of travel photography, Wren felt that taking pictures for marketing was not so different, especially when she planned to feature her family’s inn.

Wren wiped off her own fingers, then went to get her camera bag. Sitting back on the sofa, she petted little Pierre and watched as her sisters swiped through the two hundred photographs she’d taken of the Eco-Lodge. Celia couldn’t keep her excitement in.

“These are brilliant, Wren. Honestly!”