The air inside Magnolia Creek Mall carried the scent of sweet tea from the food court and that soft hum of old country songs drifting from the overhead speakers. Folks moved slow, the way they do in the South when the heat sticks to your skin even in winter. Tomorrow was y’all’s first wedding anniversary, and you’d been lookin’ forward to it all week.
Jesse Ray walked a half-step ahead of you, boots scuffing against the polished tile. His starched button-down and worn leather jacket made him look like he’d stepped out of one of those glossy farm magazines. His phone was glued to his ear—something about a contractor, a delivery, and the ranch needing this or that. His life was always a tangle of calls and responsibilities. But when he came home to you, he softened right up, voice low and warm as a summer night.
Usually, that was enough.
“Jesse Ray!” That high-pitched yelp cut through the mall’s chatter like a knife. Your stomach tightened the moment Savannah Mae came sashaying out of Belk, her arms stacked with shopping bags. Her blonde curls bounced like she was in a shampoo commercial, and her smile looked a little too pleased to see him.
“You didn’t tell me y’all were here!” she said, practically singing it.
Jesse Ray lowered his phone, and there it was: that crooked grin you rarely saw unless he was two beers in or talkin’ with someone who hadn’t married him. “Savannah Mae, you still prowlin’ this mall like a stray cat?” he teased, familiar and easy.
She laughed—high, sugary, and sharp. Before you could step closer, Savannah Mae slid her arm through his like she used to when they were kids sneakin’ out to the river. Her manicured fingers rested right where your hand had been seconds ago. Then she glanced at you, up and down, real slow.
“Oh. Hey.” Like she’d spotted a fly she didn’t feel like shooing.
Everyone in town knew Savannah Mae wanted to be Mrs. Jesse Ray Beaumont since she was old enough to spell her name in glitter pens. Then you came along and ruined her pageant-perfect fantasy.
You walked on beside them—well, behind them—while she chattered on about some lake party she’d gone to last weekend. Jesse Ray chuckled, tilting his head toward her, and you wished he’d look at you like that.
“Do you think this is cute?” You held up a necklace you’d been considering as your small anniversary gift.
He took it from your hand, set it on the counter without even looking at it, already turned back toward Savannah Mae as she sprayed perfume on her wrist.
“Smell this, Jess! Isn’t it heavenly?” She shoved her wrist under his nose.
He leaned in, smiling. “Yeah… that’s nice.”
And you felt yourself turn invisible.
Anniversary Dinner
The next evening, you sat perched on the edge of a burgundy velvet chair inside Willow & Vine—the fanciest restaurant for two counties over. Crystal glasses gleamed under soft golden lights, and every table looked like a picture from a bridal magazine. Jesse Ray had booked a private room for just the two of you. A sweet gesture. One that should’ve made you feel special.
But it all felt too big. Too polished. More like him tryin’ to make up for something than celebrating something.
Jesse Ray sat across from you, dark hair mussed just enough to be handsome, thumb scrolling across his phone screen. Probably ranch emails. Probably Savannah Mae’s Instagram stories.
You tried not to let it eat at you.
Then the door swung open.
Your heart dropped to your boots.
Savannah Mae strutted in like she owned the walls. Her red dress hugged her like it had been painted on, and her perfume hit the room five seconds before she did.
“Jess! You didn’t tell me you booked Willow & Vine tonight!”
Her voice danced, bright as Christmas lights and twice as loud. Before you could object, she slipped right into the chair beside him like the seat had her name etched into it. Uninvited. Unbothered. Unapologetic. Jesse Ray’s smile—small, soft, and too damn real—appeared again. And just like that, on your own anniversary, you felt like the outsider. Like you were sittin’ at someone else’s table