I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

‘Coincidentally, yes. But that’s not the point. If you don’t want the psychic, at least go for the view. Her shop’s in Elmridge, near The Skyveil Trail. It’s a tourist spot. Waterfalls, woods, vineyards, the whole thing. Google it.’

I did after we hung up.

Apparently, it was more than just a trail.

There was Skyveil Falls, Echo Grove, The Overlook at Dusk, Pine & Pour Taproom, Old Bramble Farm.

And a whole street packed with psychics, tarot readers, crystal shops, energy healing pop-ups.

In the Instagram pics, half the town looked like a glittery fever dream.

I scrolled through a few posts.

Reviews mentioned the air smelling clean, the quiet, the food trucks.

It wouldn’t kill me to get out of the city for two days.

Even if I skipped the psychic, I could at least eat a decent lunch and stare at a tree for once.

I started looking at hotels.

And I kept looking after dinner.