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Chapters (85)
  1. BOOKS BY LOUISE BAY
  2. ONE
  3. Rosey
  4. TWO
  5. Byron
  6. THREE
  7. Rosey
  8. FOUR
  9. Byron
  10. FIVE
  11. Rosey
  12. SIX
  13. Byron
  14. SEVEN
  15. Rosey
  16. EIGHT
  17. Rosey
  18. NINE
  19. Byron
  20. TEN
  21. Rosey
  22. ELEVEN
  23. Byron
  24. TWELVE
  25. Rosey
  26. THIRTEEN
  27. Byron
  28. FOURTEEN
  29. Rosey
  30. FIFTEEN
  31. Rosey
  32. SIXTEEN
  33. Byron
  34. SEVENTEEN
  35. Rosey
  36. EIGHTEEN
  37. Byron
  38. NINETEEN
  39. Rosey
  40. TWENTY
  41. Rosey
  42. TWENTY-ONE
  43. Byron
  44. TWENTY-TWO
  45. Byron
  46. TWENTY-THREE
  47. Rosey
  48. TWENTY-FOUR
  49. Rosey
  50. TWENTY-FIVE
  51. Byron
  52. TWENTY-SIX
  53. Rosey
  54. TWENTY-SEVEN
  55. Byron
  56. TWENTY-EIGHT
  57. Rosey
  58. TWENTY-NINE
  59. Byron
  60. THIRTY
  61. Rosey
  62. THIRTY-ONE
  63. Rosey
  64. THIRTY-TWO
  65. Byron
  66. THIRTY-THREE
  67. Rosey
  68. THIRTY-FOUR
  69. Rosey
  70. THIRTY-FIVE
  71. Byron
  72. THIRTY-SIX
  73. Rosey
  74. THIRTY-SEVEN
  75. Byron
  76. THIRTY-EIGHT
  77. Byron
  78. EPILOGUE
  79. A month later – New York City
  80. 14 months later - Star Falls
  81. MR. MAYFAIR
  82. Beck
  83. Beck
  84. Stella
  85. BOOKS BY LOUISE BAY

He gives me a two-fingered salute and heads out. I order another beer and surreptitiously scan the rest of the bar. Is there anyone else here I need to talk to? Any other old-school influencers?

The runaway bride next to me is on her phone. She has long fingers, and she’s gripping the device like she’s holding on to a life raft. I wonder if she really is a runaway bride or if she’s an extra from a film or a model from a photo shoot. None of the potential explanations for the white dress explain why she’s sitting on the stool next to me.

I wouldn’t consider myself a nosey person. Not normally. But I’ve come back to Star Falls after fifteen years and nothing much seems to have changed. The woman next to me is the exception. I’m surprised Jim didn’t ask her to fill out a questionnaire so he could report back to the rest of the town about who she is and why she’s at Grizzly’s. This town likes to know every single detail of each other’s lives.

The bartender asks if she wants another drink. The woman pauses for a second before she asks for tap water. I want to offer to buy her a drink, but then it would get awkward, because she might think I’m making a pass at her. I wouldn’t be. Not that she’s not attractive—she is. Big blue eyes and flawless skin and dark hair that’s curled at the ends and seems to go on forever.

I’m staring.

If we were back in New York right now, I would have had a drink thrown in my face at the very least.

But we’re definitely not in New York, and I’m not sure she’s even noticed my staring. She’s too lost in her thoughts. Probably she’s thinking about the groom she jilted or the town she just rolled into. I’d pay more than a penny to know what exactly is on her mind.

When the bartender delivers the water, the bride asks, “I checked at the little inn on the corner, the one with the snowdrops in pots on the stoop? To see if they had any rooms for the night—two nights maybe—but they were completely full. They suggested I try here. Do you have rooms?”

There’s only one inn in town—snowdrops or no snowdrops.