Chapter 223 (1/2)

What the fuck am I supposed to do all day while my mum has Tessa prancing around town? I could go find them, it wouldn’t be hard, but my mum would probably be upset, and after all, tomorrow is her wedding day. I promised Tess that I’d be on my best behavior this weekend, and even though I’ve already broken the promise, I don’t need to make it any worse.

Chapter one hundred and thirty-four

TESSA

Your hair looks so beautiful.” Trish reaches a newly manicured hand across the table to touch my head.

“Thank you. I’m getting used to it.” I smile, looking into the mirror directly behind our table. The woman at the spa was appalled that I had never dyed my hair before. After a few minutes of persuading, I agreed to darken it slightly, but only at the roots. The final color is a very light brown fading into my natural blond toward the ends. The difference is barely noticeable and looks much more natural than I expected. The color isn’t permanent; it’ll only last a month. I wasn’t ready for a longer-term change, but the more I look at myself in the mirror, the more I like what I see.

The woman did wonders on my eyebrows, too, plucking them into a perfect arch, and my nails and toes are painted a deep red. I declined Trish’s offer to get a Brazilian wax; as much as I’ve considered getting one, it would be awkward to do it with Hardin’s mother, and I’m fine with shaving for now. During the walk to the car, Trish teases me about my flimsy shoes, the same way her son does, and I hold back from making a dig at her daily tracksuit-wearing.

I stare out the window the entire drive, taking in every single home, building, store, and person on the street.

“This is the place,” Trish says minutes later as she pulls her car into a covered parking lot nestled between two small buildings. I follow her to the entrance of the smaller of the two.

I notice that there’s moss covering the entirety of the brick building, and the sight of it calls forth my inner Landon, as references to The Hobbit pass through my mind. Landon would think the exact same thing if he were here, and we’d share a laugh while Hardin griped about how terrible the movies are and how they destroyed J.R.R. Tolkien’s vision. Landon would argue back, as always, claiming that Hardin secretly loves the movies, and Hardin would flip him off. Selfishly, I imagine a place where Hardin, Landon, and I could live close to one another, a place where Landon and Dakota could live in Seattle, maybe in the same building as Hardin and me. A place where one of the few people who actually care about me won’t be moving across the country in a few weeks.

“It’s pretty warm today; do you want to eat outside?” Trish asks, gesturing to the metal tables lined along the terrace.

“That would be fine.” I smile, following her to a table at the end of the row.

The waitress brings a pitcher of water to our table and places two glasses in front of us. Even the water looks better in England; the pitcher is filled with ice and perfectly shaped lemon circles.

Trish’s eyes search the sidewalks. “We have one more joining us . . . she should be here any—There she is!”