Rich Nasser isn’t in Jackson Harbor. He won’t be here for another few days. But knowing he’s coming has made me skittish in my own town.

“Screw you, Rich.” I shove my keys into my purse and head to the sidewalk. I won’t let the anticipation of his presence scare me into hiding.

It’s a ten-minute walk to the bar, but I get there in eight, my steps quicker than usual. Usually, I enjoy the solitude of the short walk, but tonight, I’m anxious for company. I get my wish the moment I step into Jackson Brews.

The bar is bustling with activity. The Chicago Bears are playing on the big screens, and the booths are filled with familiar faces enjoying a meal as they watch the game. I’m struck by a tug of tenderness. For this place. For this town.

Saanvi planned to do a destination wedding from the start—her genius way of avoiding the massive guest list of virtual strangers Mom and Dad wanted to put together for a wedding at home. When she picked Jackson Harbor, I was thrilled and not even a little surprised. She fell in love with this town at first sight, just like I did. She would’ve moved here after college if her fiancé, Liam, didn’t already have a job back in Alexandria. She might not be able to move here with me, but if she can have her special day in the town that stole both of our hearts, I’m happy.

Or I was until I found out about Rich.

Now I wish Saanvi had allowed our parents to throw her the wedding of their dreams back in Virginia. I hate the idea of Rich being in this town—my town—even for a few days.

I could tell Saanvi I don’t want Rich to come, and she would want to accommodate me. If I could find the courage to tell her the truth about him, she probably wouldn’t have let my parents invite him in the first place. But when it comes to that secret, I’ve always been a coward.

I shake my head, trying to scatter the thoughts of my ex and his talents for getting whatever he wants. I take a seat at the bar and put my purse on the vacant stool beside me to save the space for Carter.

“What can I get you tonight?” Cindy asks, already pulling out a pint glass.

“I’ll have the pumpkin ale.”

Nodding, she pours my beer and slides it in front of me.

I scan the crowd, looking for Carter. It’s odd. I don’t know that I’ve ever had plans with only Carter. With many combinations of Jacksons and their girlfriends/fiancées/wives, sure, but Carter and I haven’t had a reason to hang out, just the two of us. And if I’m honest, I would’ve found a way around it even if we did have one. Carter is far too tempting, and I wouldn’t trust myself to resist him if we spent more time together.