Page 103 of Irresistible
“I’ll tell him.” Once my boots are on, I stand up. “What if I wait until I’m ten or twelve weeks and we know for sure everything is—”
He’s shaking his head before I can finish. “And you continue suffering the way you are? You’ll either make yourself sick or you’ll drive him off. Come on, sis. Where is that girl who said the hell with this when she wanted out of pageants? The girl who got the fuck out of Dodge when she realized her husband was cheating?”
“You’re right.” I nod. “You’re right,” I repeat. “I’ll tell him soon, I promise. Tonight I want to just pretend it’s not happening and have a good time. I know it’s ridiculous, but…”
“It’s not ridiculous. As long as you really can have a good time, I think it’s fine to have a night out and not be obsessing about it the way I know you are. You also need to come clean to Sofie. She’s always been able to talk sense into you.”
“If she’d been in town and you hadn’t been here right when I was finding out, I would’ve. But I also don’t want to make it weird for her since he’s her brother-in-law.”
“Sofie would never be weird with you.”
“You’re right. Again.”
He laughs. “Setting world records here today, telling me I’m right twice in one day.”
I sigh and then smile when Dakota comes out of her room. I did her hair in two French braids, and she looks so cute.
There’s a knock on the door and Dakota flies to the door.
“Can I open it, Mama?”
I lift her up to look out the peephole. “Is it Wyatt?”
“It is,” she says excitedly.
I set her down. “Okay, go ahead.”
She flings the door open, and Wyatt stands there looking like everything I’ve ever dreamed of in his green sweater that matches his eyes and his messier-than-usual hair. He’s shaved the scruff, and his cheeks are pink from the fall evening.
“Hello,” he says, looking at the two of us. “You both look beautiful.“
“Thank you,” I say. I nudge Dakota and she thanks him, shy all of a sudden. “You look great too.”
He smiles. “Thank you.”
“We’re ready,” Dakota says, reaching out to take his hand. “Right, Uncle Logan?”
“Right,” he says, getting up from the couch. He rubs his arms. “Damn, I can’t get used to how much cooler it is up here.” He grabs his jacket and follows us out the door.
We start walking toward the gondola station, tourists and locals milling around the shops on Heritage Lane.
“It’s so busy around here,” I say to avoid any awkward pauses.
“Within the next few days, you’ll probably need an extra half hour before work to exit the resort parking lot and drive through town,” Wyatt says.
“It’s that bad?” I make a face.
“It can be.”
Dakota asks Wyatt about the gondola ride, and he tells her about that until we’re approaching the station. We get tickets and stand in the short line, waiting to get on.
“Hey, Wyatt,” the man operating the gondola calls. “Long time, no see.”
“Hey, Benny. Good to see you.”
When the doors open, we step inside, along with as many others as can fit, and we take a seat by the windows.
“We’re going to the top of the mountain?” Dakota asks again.