“Cancel the wedding.”
Gillian swayed. She stared at the man she’d loved, so handsome in his favorite suit and the tie that matched his eyes, eyes now staring back at her with misery in their depths. She locked her knees to keep from sinking to the ground. “Wait. Just wait. I don’t understand. Why do this now? Tucker bought the building. My design center dream isn’t happening. You won.”
“No, I didn’t. Not really.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. Long seconds passed before he straightened his spine and looked at her. The misery was gone. He’d made a decision. “I’ve had time to do a lot of thinking these past two weeks. Seeing your reaction to the news today crystallized things for me. This business of yours is more important to you than I realized. It’s more important to you than I am.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” he challenged. “Look, Gillian, if our basic goals and dreams are incompatible, that makes us incompatible. Oh, it probably would have worked between us for a few years, but the entire time, resentments would be bubbling beneath the surface. Eventually, they’d blow us apart. Better it happens now before we have a kid or two who’d get caught in the explosion.”
“So, you decide to make a preemptive strike,” she said bitterly. “You make this decision today all on your own based on an expression on my face.”
“No, I’m making it now because I finally have the guts to do something I’ve known needed doing for at least the past four months. Marriage between us wouldn’t work, Gillian, and I think deep down, you know it too.”
Bridal jitters. She’d told herself it was bridal jitters. “We have that counseling—”
He cut her off. “It’s too late for that.”
“Why? Shouldn’t we at least try?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Our problem isn’t fixable, Gillian. I tried. I loved you. I didn’t want to hurt you. But then New Year’s Eve…”
When he didn’t finish his sentence, Gillian narrowed her eyes. “What about New Year’s Eve?”
He dragged his hand down his face. His voice was tight as he said, “I knew I couldn’t fix it. I knew this had to happen.”
“And rather than talk to me, rather than be honest with me, you decided to act by letting Tucker McBride buy my building? Did you even have the flu, Jeremy?”
“No.”
I knew it. Gillian closed her eyes. “You need to leave.”
“I wish…” He let the sentence trail off and then sighed heavily. “It’s better this way.”
Then Jeremy turned around and left through the backyard gate.
She was glad to see him go, she realized. Except, he took her dreams with him.
Gillian sank to her knees on the brittle grass. Sensing her turmoil, Peaches bounded toward her. She wrapped her arms around her puppy and held on as if the pup were a life preserver flung from a sinking ship. As Peaches’ rough pink tongue covered her cheeks in kisses, Gillian broke.
* * *
For Tucker, growing up in a small town west of Fort Worth in a ranching family meant a yearly trip to the Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo, a three-week-long event held annually at the end of January and first part of February. Invariably, the Stock Show ushered in the coldest weather of the year, often accompanied by an ice storm that all but shut the city down. When Jackson told him yesterday they had “Stock Show” weather on the way, he’d decided to revisit another McBride tradition. He’d pulled deer meat from the freezer and whipped up a big old pot of venison chili, his dad’s recipe. He took it to the shop and invited friends and family to drop by for a bowl of red. Now, it simmered on the stove in the break room and filled the air with a spicy aroma that made him nostalgic for home.
Sorting through the morning’s UPS deliveries in the Enchanted Canyon Wilderness School headquarters stockroom, he decided he might just make a run up to Fort Worth this weekend. Check out the rodeo.
Tucker was thinking about reconnecting with his roots when he heard his soon-to-be cousin-in-law say, “I’m so worried about Gillian.”
His head came up, and he went as still as a guard dog on alert, listening intently. Caroline and Maisy had stopped by for chili and to pick up Maisy’s special order that had arrived yesterday.
“It’s been two weeks since the breakup, and she’s hardly left her house,” Caroline continued.
Curiosity guided Tucker’s footsteps closer to the stockroom door as Maisy replied, “She’s a mess, for sure, and I’m afraid it won’t get any better until her wedding day has passed.”
“Yep. It will be a painful weekend for Gillian.”
“We’d better plan on spending it with her—whether she wants us there or not.”
“I know. I haven’t known Gillian nearly as long as you have, Maisy, but still, this is worrisome. I saw her last night at the twenty-four-hour drugstore. At midnight.”
“Midnight?”
“Uh-huh. I had to run in to pick up some hydrogen peroxide because River tangled with a skunk and we had none in the house.”
“That stinks,” Maisy said.
“Tell me about it. It was loads of fun. Anyway, I’m walking up to the counter, and I see Gillian standing in front of the freezer section. Wearing pajamas and a robe and house slippers.”
Tucker almost dropped the box in his hand. Maisy made a scandalized gasp. “Gillian? Our Gillian?”
“Yes!”
“No. Oh, no. Gillian Thacker did not go out in public wearing pajamas and house shoes.”
“She did. It’s true. I saw her standing in front of the freezer case staring at the ice cream. She had a coat on over the robe, at least, but I don’t think she’d combed her hair all day, much less put on makeup.”
“I can’t believe it.”
Tucker couldn’t believe it either. Gillian Thacker was the most put-together woman he’d seen this side of a North Dallas trophy wife. Even that first time they’d met, after hiking in heels across cotton fields, she’d taken care to touch up her lipstick.
Maisy continued, “In that case, this situation is even worse than I thought. Did you talk to her?”
“I tried,” Caroline replied with frustration in her voice. “I called her name as I walked toward her. She startled, then waved and muttered something about needing to buy cat food and sort of scurried away.”
“She doesn’t own a cat.”
“I didn’t think she did, and she didn’t have any cat food in her basket that I could see—just toilet paper, tissues, tampons, and dog food. And three bags of Cheetos.”
“The necessities. Cheetos and ice cream are Gillian’s stress eating go-to. She doesn’t keep them in the house. She had three bags, you say?”
“Yes, and she might have doubled back for ice cream. I didn’t stay around and watch her check out. It was obvious she wasn’t happy that I’d spotted her.” Caroline hesitated a moment, then added, “Depression can be a serious condition.”
“I don’t think she’s had time to become seriously depressed yet,” Maisy replied, her voice strained with concern. “She’s still in shock. She’s mourning. You know Gillian, she does everything in a big way. She’s going to mourn with a capital M for a little while.”