Angi wasn’t sure how to respond and so asked the first question that came to her mind, “Is that why we didn’t get along? I probably shouldn’t have played into that narrative, but it was kind of nice to have an outlet—even misguided—for all of my anger.”

Before Mariella could answer, her eyes went wide with alarm like she’d seen a ghost. “No, no, no, no,” she whispered, color draining from her face.

Angi reached out a steadying hand and then turned to see Alex Ralsten, Dylan’s friend or at least his soon-to-be tenant, walking toward them from the back of the building.

She knew from Dylan that the native New Yorker had been spending more time in Magnolia in preparation for The Fit Collective’s big move. He’d even gotten the company to agree to make a sizable donation to the dance as a sponsor when she’d explained the goodwill it would foster within the community.

He was looking down at his phone, punching in something on the screen with his thumb. As if he could sense the tension coming from Mariella, he looked up with a start, and the device clattered to the concrete floor.

Angi cringed as she glanced down and saw that the screen had shattered.

If Alex noticed, he didn’t react. He bent with stiff movements to pick up the phone, and when he straightened again his features were devoid of any emotion.

The same could not be said for Mariella.

“What’s wrong?” Angi asked, shifting toward her enemy-turned-friend like she was the other woman’s protector.

“I can’t...this isn’t...he shouldn’t be...”

“Well, this is a small world,” Alex said with a sardonic smile. “Or a small town at least.”

“Why is he here?” Mariella spoke to Angi, but her gaze remained locked on Alex.

“He’s the CEO of the company I told you about.”

“No,” Mariella repeated. “Why?” she demanded.

“I needed a change,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “I assume you can understand my motivation for that.”

“You had to know I was here.” Mariella lifted a hand to her throat, gripped the scarf she wore like it was choking her. “I spent most of the wedding weekend avoiding you.”

Angi studied the handsome man. His features remained neutral, but there was a flush of pink across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and she noticed he gripped the shattered phone so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

He’d been a guest at the first wedding hosted at the Wildflower Inn, the best man of the groom, a US senator from a lauded political dynasty. To be honest, Angi hadn’t paid much attention to Alex. He was undeniably handsome but far too polished for her. Mariella hadn’t mentioned knowing him or what their shared background was, but Angi did not like seeing her usually unflappable friend in this kind of state.

“Are you suggesting this town isn’t big enough for the both of us?” Alex demanded, his full mouth curled into a slight sneer.