The Holiday Swap(9)
“Makewell’s Bakery?!” Her shock turned to dismay. Makewell’s was a trendy new chain that had started in New York and recently moved to L.A. Cass had stopped in the last time she had visited Charlie in the city and had been appalled at the fact that everything on offer tasted like it had come from a package—and that none of the customers seemed to care, lining up around the block for subpar baked goods just so they could post on social media that they had been there. “But that would be direct competition for Woodburn . . .”
He frowned. “I don’t see it that way. Starlight Peak needs this. If you get a Makewell’s, it means you’ve arrived. Besides, Woodburn Breads is like . . . comfort food, you know? Delicious, of course, but predictable. Makewell’s is the latest thing, and we could use a bit of that energy in town.” Then seeing her face, he added, “Cass, take it from me. A little competition is a good thing! Now, would you like a grand tour of your future home?”
She had to do this. “We need to talk.”
He sipped his wine, looking slightly concerned now but hiding it behind another smile. “Sure, Cass. Let’s talk.”
He picked up a little velvet box that had been sitting on her plate.
“Now, should I get down on one knee again?” Brett started to kneel.
“Stop.” Cass grabbed at his arm, trying to pull him back up. “Please, don’t do that.”
Brett paused, looking confused. “What’s going on, Cass?”
She allowed her gaze to sweep the room, the beautiful kitchen, the wine, peonies, pasta sauce bubbling on the stove. Her eyes brimmed with tears—but not because she was touched by all his efforts. They were tears of anger.
“You bought this house without even checking with me?”
“I wanted to surprise you,” Brett said, standing again. His fingers worked the ring box, spinning it in his hand. He seemed nervous and unsure, two things Cass was not used to seeing from him.
“But when did you buy it?” Maybe he had purchased it more than a month ago. If he had, it would be easier to accept his poor judgment—at the time, he had likely been certain she was going to say yes! Their marriage feeling as inevitable as the snow that blanketed Starlight Peak each winter.
“Last week,” he said, appearing dejected. “I orchestrated a fast close. I had to do something to convince you.”
“I told you I needed time, Brett.” Cass gestured around wildly. “Not a house!”
“You needed time. I didn’t. I’ve always known what I want when it comes to you.”
Her vision blurring, Cass hastily wiped at her eyes as she took in the sad but determined look on Brett’s face. It was a familiar one. Brett was the type of guy who was quick to apologize when he messed up—when, for example, he sold you a house that at the first heavy spring downpour proved to have a leaky basement. Quick to say things like, We couldn’t have seen that coming, but that’s on me and I sincerely apologize. Let me call my repair guy to help you fix it. I can get you a deal. Brett was used to getting what he wanted first and then putting out the fires later. His clients loved his “get it done” and “I’ll make it right” approach to real estate. But he seemed to not understand that relationships couldn’t be fixed as easily as a leaky basement.
Cass’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Charlie. A month ago, Cass had confided in her twin about the proposal: “I can’t believe I didn’t just say yes. Is there something wrong with me?”
“I can see why you didn’t say yes!” Charlie had said. “You need time to think. This is the rest of your life we’re talking about. And also, Cass—you’ve been with Brett for, like, your entire life so far. Think about that. Are you sure you’re ready to spend the rest of it with him, without experiencing anything else?” Charlie had been against the cooling-off period, suggesting instead that Cass trust her gut and break things off. Brett had once been a great boyfriend for Cass, but their relationship had run its course. However, Cass had found that too difficult. She didn’t want to marry him, but cutting him loose was going to mean a huge change in her life. And Cass wasn’t a fan of change—or of conflict. Now, her fingers itched to pick up her phone. But she needed to see this through.
“I’m sorry you bought this house,” Cass began. She looked at the velvet box in Brett’s hand. She hadn’t been able to pick up Charlie’s call, but she knew exactly what her sister would tell her to do: get a backbone and finally tell Brett how she really felt. “Actually, I’m not sorry. I’m—I’m pissed, Brett. You keep saying you know what you want, but you don’t ever stop to consider what I want. Which was a month to think—not a month for you to go and choose the house we were going to live in.”
“But this is the best house for us. Look at this kitchen, Cass. The mudroom downstairs even has special racks and cabinets for our snowboards and gear! And about our wedding—we’ve talked about it! The botanical gardens, perfect for a summer wedding. Peak Pub chili for the reception, just like you wanted. Unpretentious, homey. Remember? Everyone is looking forward to this, Cass.”
“Brett. This is about more than a gorgeous kitchen and expensive stoves and somewhere to store snowboards and what everyone in the town is looking forward to. We don’t make sense anymore! We haven’t for a long time. And forcing this thing, doing what everyone expects, for the rest of our lives, just because it would be too embarrassing to call it quits in front of the whole town—it isn’t right!”