Chapter 2

2

Autumn

I frown as I open the trash can, tossing inside another dead plant. I don't know what it is about indoor plants that render me a murderer to their poor, lifeless little corpses, but no matter what I do, I can't seem to keep them alive.

Too much water. Not enough water. Plant food. The right plant food. Light, but not too much light. Dappled light? Darkened spaces… I give up.

"I'm sorry," I say to the cactus that lands in after the Devil's Ivy; aptly named, it seems. I don't know how a person can kill a cactus. They're supposed to be hardy and barely need any tending to. Maybe I have needy plants? "I really didn't mean to send you to plant heaven."

I shut the trash can lid to face Bruiser, my cat, looking up at me with judgy eyes.

"Don't you start," I warn. "I don't need a lecture."

He meows and I bend down to pick him up. He's not usually clingy but now and again he likes to let me know he's not always spicy. He just has a strong personality. He likes things how he likes them. Sometimes I wish humans could be more transparent.

Then I think of Beau and laugh out loud. Bruiser gives me a disapproving look; when he's in my arms, it's his time. That doesn't include free thought, especially when I've been thinking about Beau all afternoon.

I admit we've grown even closer these last six months. After I saved his bacon at the charity auction a few months ago by making sure he wasn't eaten alive by the single ladies of Stoney Creek, he kinda owes me one.

He's as sweet as pie, adorable actually, and until this morning I hadn't ever really thought about him like that. Don't get me wrong, Beau's hot. He has this whole geeky vibe going on that reminds me of Clark Kent. He's unassumingly handsome with his glasses on as he pours over his computer at work, but I've seen him out on the town at Moose's — the local bar in town — and when he's dressed up with his hair styled and kick-ass jeans on, he turns every head in the place.

The thing I love about Beau the most is he doesn't realize he's all that. I'd go as far to say he's clueless in that department. In fact, I don't know if he'd know what to do if a woman approached him. I giggle at the thought and that does it, Bruiser squawks and jumps out of my arms.

"I'll remember that when you run out of those expensive kibble biscuits you like," I call after him.

He runs across the room to hop on the couch and catch the last of the sun's rays.

Yes. I'm a lonely cat lady who talks to herself. Depressing really. But since my ex, I've kinda sworn off men for a while. I only seem to attract jerks.

Added to that, my family's recent bombshell about my inheritance has knocked me for six. I really thought as Grandma got older she'd loosen her stupid rules, but it seems she's playing hard ball to the bitter end. We've always gotten along, I love her to bits, but she and my parents are too controlling. I can't and won't be dictated to for any amount of money. I know they mean well, but this far in life my whole thinking has been not to get married or have kids. Maybe I'm defective? Women are supposed to want children and such. I just don't want the same things other people do, and according to those closest to me, that's not okay.

I'm not saying I don't want to settle down some day. I do. I'd love nothing more than to find the perfect man and build a life together, but I'm also fiercely independent and I want to work on my business before I even think about heavy stuff.

Thirty-three is apparently eighty when you're single, unmarried with no kids. No amount of telling my parents and Grandma that people are settling down later in life and starting families in their mid-thirties won't convince them. They're set in their ways, but so am I.

I love my life and I've never been a woman that needed a man to be happy; another thing I shouldn't be admitting to, apparently. We're not allowed to just be happy within ourselves, enjoy our careers without being told we're dried up and bitter and we'll end up alone with that biological clock ticking. There must be something wrong with us if we can't find a man. But what if some of us just can't find a decent one? Dating is hard. It's even harder in a small town. The pickings are slim and choices aren't exactly overflowing.

After fuckface Michael, I'm done. I should've known long-distance would never work. He lived in Memphis, where my parents reside. His parents are friends with my parents, and honestly, when things were good with Michael, I even thought about moving back home. I'm glad I didn't do that now.

Clearly he had too much freedom, and if he wanted to play the field, I don't get why he didn't just do that and not string me along. The sex wasn't even that good.

I was so sad for one of my best friends, Eden — before she got back with Brooklyn — when she found her boyfriend screwing some other chick. It was awful for her, but I'm reminded it all worked out for her in the end. She's never been happier. Turns out her Mr. Perfect was right there all along, she just had to kiss a few toads to be reunited with her prince. I wish it were the same for me. I've kissed plenty of toads, and I'm just so sick of getting it wrong. If the right guy comes along and I overlook him, they can blame my string of ex-mistakes for my current state of continual resting bitch face. It's hardly my fault that I set the bar too high; loyalty and trust being my top two deal breakers. I can't imagine Beau ever doing anything like that. He hasn't had a girlfriend in a couple of years, but I overheard in the bar one time at Moose's that he's scrum-diddly-umptious in the bedroom. It was some chick who hooked up with him after his ex. Beau and I are close, but it's not like he shares his conquests with me. I also know he isn't a man-whore, far from it. Not that I want to think about my friend in the bedroom, but now that's all I'm doing.

Get a grip!

The only action I get these days is between me and my battery boyfriend. Thank God for discreet packaging, that's all I can say.

Today I have an important meeting with the bank. I have to have all my financials — which makes me worried — and prove that I can service the loan I'm trying to get.

I put on my best skirt suit, blouse, high-heels and set my hair in rollers. I'm lucky my thick, dark hair is easy to tame. The suit color is a pastel blue. I realize I look more like Martha Stewart than a hard-hitting businesswoman, but this suit has always been lucky for me. I wore it the day the shop lease came up out of nowhere. Trust me when I say that shops for lease don't come up very often in Stoney Creek. It's a one-horse town with a vibrant atmosphere and it's full of people who are adorable as much as they are gossipy; that's small towns for you. But shop rentals? Forget it. Most of the shops in the Main Street have been there forever, like Stone's Throw café; it's third generation and shows no signs of slowing down. Then there's Verne's bakery; it's practically famous. Keith Urban once stopped by on the way to Nashville and the bakery went viral on TikTok. Now Verne has to employ two staff members to keep up with demand for her cupcakes, pie and pastries that she has shipped all over the United States. Think big, that's what I always tell myself.

Eden successfully runs her business from home, it's called Bloom Weddings and Events, and she has a small space at the Bassett Distillery for when she runs weddings out of the barn; that's the new outbuilding the Bassett's have spent this last year remodeling and renovating, ready for the wedding season.

The barn is gorgeous. It's old — over a hundred years — and now it's fully restored with big, heavy, double doors, a wrap-around patio, a mezzanine level upstairs for storage, and gorgeous rich oak floors with wood used from around the property. It's rustic but also elegant. I've never quite seen a space like it.

Now they're going to cater for weddings and events too; Callan, Beau's cousin who does all the repairs around the property, has worked over the entire winter with contractors to fit out a commercial kitchen which is located in one of the out-buildings just across from the barn, so everything will be in-house. So far, they have ten spring/summer weddings already booked in, and they've barely done any advertising. That's because Georgia-Blue is a marketing whizz and handles all the social media. It's why I came on board and now have the contract for wedding photography. The Bassett's are amazing people; for someone to book a wedding, they have to buy the entire package which includes Eden for planning (flowers, the cake, decorations, invitations). Then I handle the photography and videography, and finally their catering company for food and beverage. If you want to just come and get married here, that's a no-go unless you plan on purchasing a package.

Bassett Brothers Bourbon Distillery is set on a huge property of around two hundred acres where the whole family live in separate housing spread across ‘the farm', as they affectionately call it. I can honestly say that it is one of the prettiest views I've ever seen, with fields of barley and wheat, a backdrop of oak trees running parallel to the far side of the landscape where the sun sets. Then Stoney Creek runs through the middle of the property. The creek, which is more like a lake, is stunning in itself. The grounds are immaculately kept with full-time grounds people. The trees on the farm alone range from oak, maple, poplar and dogwood with its pretty pink flowers; the changing colors in the leaves alone make the surroundings iconic for wedding photography all year round. Hudson, Grayson's best friend, sometimes helps out on the farm too. He runs a cotton farm on the neighboring property, something I absolutely adore because the cotton is so pretty with its pink and white flowers in bloom. I'm trying to convince him to let us shoot some wedding photography there, but he's a bit of a grump. In fact, he's earned the nickname GP — Grumpy Pants — from Georgia; something he's aware of but chooses to ignore.

I climb into my SUV and take a few sharp breaths. "You can do this," I tell myself. "You are a strong, capable woman who can achieve anything."

It's better than running into the bank and begging my bank manager to give me a loan so I don't have to be forced to get married; something I'm sure would spread like wildfire around town, not to mention sound absolutely atrocious. My grandmother isn't a horrible woman; in her eyes, she just wants what's best for me and my brother. She loves us, I get that. But we're not in the dark ages where people had no choices and didn't know any better. I mean, my parents followed suit with the arranged marriage situation, and while they're still together, they've never acted like they're in love with each other. That's a hard thing to admit and it used to upset me a lot, but they make it work in their way. My father is shrewd and knows how to make money, he's kept the family in the lap of luxury and has always worked hard; my mom has wanted for nothing, neither have us kids. He's not affectionate, but he's also never been horrible. He's a good dad in every sense of the word, but it's like we have to fit into his world, not the other way around. Also, unlike my mom, he pretty much stays out of the meddling. As long as I get married soon and have babies, he'll leave me alone, but the fact is, I don't even know if I want kids. I've never really been maternal. I was kinda hoping my brother would cover things there, but so far at thirty-five he's showing no signs of settling down or having children. I wonder why he's not being hassled all the time. Maybe because I'm the girl and it's kinda expected.

Then I think about Mom and her expectations. I've never felt like what I do is quite good enough for her. She would've loved me to be a lawyer, or a doctor, or a neurosurgeon. A photographer is too flighty for her and I couldn't possibly earn enough to support myself. My mom doesn't believe in doing anything for the love of it. You do a job to get paid and get paid well. You buy a big, huge house with ten bedrooms and twelve bathrooms and spend your entire life decorating it. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that, or with how my mom chooses to live her life, but that isn't for me. I don't want a butler, a cook and a chauffeur. I just want to do what I love and enjoy my life every single day, and if a guy comes along that wants to sweep me off my feet, I'm not opposed to that.

I want that. I just don't want to give up on my hopes and dreams like I did with my exes.

I've done that so many times and when we finally break up, I'm left with nothing.

I'm always left picking up the pieces because my life revolved around their life and what they're doing; just like my parents. That's how they live. My mom is a trophy wife and she loves it. She loves having prestige and pretty things. She enjoys her charity dinners and events and wafting around Memphis like she was born to rule, and that's fine, but that life isn't for me.

Every time I go home to visit, all I get is questions asking when I'm coming back for good, and Mom's trying to set me up with a friend's son who has a well-paid job and can keep me in the lap of luxury. It doesn't matter how many times I tell her luxury isn't important to me — I want so much more than that. She doesn't listen. She doesn't get me. In the end, I just give up or we end up in an argument.

At least being here in Stoney Creek gets me away from being badgered in person. Though, my mom's disapproval is only one haughty text away.

I sigh.

My life isn't that bad.

I have so much to be grateful for.

I just let those few little annoyances get to me, especially in times of stress like right now when my entire life and career depends on this one appointment. If I can't get my videography equipment, then I can't video weddings. And if I can't get my roof fixed, if we have any more unplanned rain this spring, I'm going to be canoeing around my living room.

Take the bull by the horns. That's what Beauster would say.

So that's what I'm going to do.

I'm going to take the bull by the horns and shake it. Goddammit will I shake it.

I hold my head high as I exit my car and head toward the doors of the bank. My destiny is in their hands now…