Ignite (Cloverleigh Farms #6)(88)

Miserable. Frustrated. Alone.





Twenty-Six





Winnie





I was sitting on my couch in the new apartment working on some social media content for The Alexander when the text from Dex came in.

Holding my breath, I read it through three times.

Exhaling, I closed my eyes. Tears welled behind my lids, which surprised and annoyed me. Why should he still have the power to make me sad when things were going so well?

I loved my new job, and I liked all my co-workers, especially Sandra. She was in her fifties, recently widowed, and had moved away from Manhattan to start a second chapter in her life. Her kids were in college and she lived alone, so sometimes she and I worked late nights together and ended up having dinner while we worked. She was fast becoming a mentor, if not a friend, and I really admired her work ethic, style, and grit.

The Alexander was beautiful, and I had a small office of my very own with a view of the gardens. My new apartment was tiny—just one bedroom and one bath—but close to work, not far from the beach, and I could walk to downtown Newport within minutes.

It just didn’t feel like home.

I told myself to give it time—it had only been ten days, after all—but inwardly I worried that I’d never feel like I belonged here. Ellie and I were in constant touch about our wine tasting dinner, and that kept me feeling close ties to Cloverleigh Farms too.

But I was determined to push forward, be successful, and meet new friends. I’d promised myself I’d start saying yes to some of my co-workers’ invites to drinks after I got back from Michigan next weekend—that is, if I survived seeing Dex, I thought, as my eyes ran over his words a fourth time.

It didn’t even sound like him. There was no grumpy humor, no dirty words, no personality. It was just straightforward, polite, almost formal.

Had he gotten over me already? Maybe he wasn’t afraid to see me. Maybe out of sight was out of mind for him, and I was nothing more than a girl he used to know. My throat squeezed with the need to cry, but I fought back.

After a deep breath, I picked up my phone and replied, being careful to adopt the same polite formality he’d used.

Hey Dex, thanks for the note. Things are going well here. I enjoy getting emails from the girls and miss seeing their faces. I can meet you all on Sunday morning at Plum & Honey, but it will have to be before church because my flight leaves at 11:10. Let me know if that is okay.

I hit send and stared at my phone in my hand. My pulse quickened as I imagined him reading it. Where was he? Was it a work night? Was he in bed or on the couch? Would he write back again tonight?

Suddenly three dots appeared, and I held my breath. But they only lasted a few seconds, and then stopped. No reply arrived. Disappointed, I set my phone aside and went back to what I was doing, ignoring the tear that slipped down my cheek.





I didn’t hear back from Dex for two days.

Sorry for the delay. We will meet you at 8:00 at the bakery Sunday morning.

As soon as I read it, I burst into tears.

It was so impersonal! Not even a greeting this time. And his tone was even more flat. Would it have killed him to say he was looking forward to it? Or wish me safe travels? Or ask how I was? How could he go from holding me in his arms almost every night and confessing that he loved me to this nothingness?

I read the text right before a meeting with Sandra. Since I was due in her office in ten minutes, I quickly ran to the bathroom down the hall and tried to clean up my face.

When the meeting was over, Sandra asked me if I was okay.

“I’m fine,” I told her, reaching for a tissue. “I’m sorry if I seemed a little out of it. I promise I got all the details we discussed written down.”

“I trust you.” She smiled at me from across her desk. “I just noticed you seemed a little anxious today. I haven’t seen you smile once.”

“I think it’s this wine tasting dinner back home,” I lied, dropping my eyes to my notepad. “I want everything to go well, and I’m not there to oversee things.”

“Of course. But knowing you, everything is under control, and the event will be a huge success.”

“Thank you.” I stood up. “I really appreciate the time off so I can be there, and for the offer to look in on my cat. She’s just getting accustomed to her new home, and I think traveling would be really stressful for her.”

“Of course.” She hesitated. “How about you? Still getting accustomed?”

I hesitated. “Yes, but I really love the job.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. Are you getting out at all? Or do our late nights at work make up the bulk of your social life?”

Blushing, I dropped my gaze to the surface of her desk. “I don’t have much of a social life here. To be honest, I haven’t felt much like going out.”

“Why not?”

I wasn’t going to get into it, but suddenly I heard myself blurt, “There was someone at home.”

Her expression was surprised. “Oh.”

I blinked several times, trying to prevent tears. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to forget about him, but it’s hard.”

“You broke up because of the move here?”

“You could say that . . . although we weren’t together very long. We just met this summer, but unfortunately I developed some pretty strong feelings for him in a fairly short amount of time.”