Tease (Cloverleigh Farms #8)(72)

“Shhhhhhhh!” I made frantic erasing motions with my hands in front of her face. “Don’t say it!”

“Why not? I feel like that’s the one thing that’s been said in this kitchen in the last couple weeks that makes any sense at all. This whole fake fiancé routine is insane. You guys love each other. You’re good together. The whole reason people swallowed your whole cockamamie story to begin with is because it’s so obvious to those around you that you two are meant to be.” She shook her head. “I know you’ve got some weird allergy to love, which I have never fully understood, but it’s time to get over it, Felicity.”

I stared at her for a few seconds. “You want to know why I have an allergy to love? I’ll tell you.”

She swallowed and picked up her lemonade. “Yes. Please.”

Muffin purred on my lap, and I was grateful to have something soft and warm to hold as I finally spilled the secret I’d kept from her for over twenty years. “When I was six, I overheard the fight Dad and Mom had the night she told him she was leaving. She said she never wanted us.”

Millie’s jaw fell open. “Oh my God.”

“But that’s not all I heard her say.” In a calm, monotone voice, I laid out the details of what I’d heard, or at least what I remembered hearing. “And within days, she was gone.”

My sister’s face was stricken, her eyes full. “Why didn’t you say something about what you’d heard? To me or to Dad?”

“I didn’t want anyone else to be hurt,” I explained. “What she said meant she didn’t want you or Winnie either. And I knew I wasn’t supposed to be listening. I was worried I might get in trouble.”

Millie got up and disappeared into the bathroom off the front hallway. When she came out, she had a roll of toilet paper in her hand. “Sorry, I’m out of tissues.”

“I’m not going to cry over this,” I said evenly.

“I am.” She set the roll on the table, sat down again, and wept into her hands.

“Millie, don’t.” At seeing my sister upset, my heart broke. “She doesn’t deserve your tears. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you.”

“I’m not crying about her. I’m crying about you,” she said, her shoulders heaving. “Carrying that around all these years and never saying anything about it.”

The lump in my throat grew bigger. “It was a long time ago. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not!” she blubbered, looking up at me with a tear-streaked face. “You’re totally messed up over it. Now I understand why you left your relationships when someone told you they loved you. You never believed them.”

“Even if I did,” I said, shaking my head, “it wouldn’t matter in the end. People can love you one day and not the next. You won’t even know what you did until they’re gone.”

“Oh, Felicity.” Millie tore off some toilet paper and blew her nose. “Mom didn’t leave because of something you did. She left because she met someone else. She ran off with some other guy. She did it to get back at Dad for not paying enough attention to her.”

“But if she really loved us, she’d have stayed,” I insisted.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Millie dabbed beneath her eyes, but her eyeliner and mascara was a mess. “Some people are just bad at love, you know? They’re too selfish or narcissistic, or deep down they don’t love themselves, so they don’t know how to accept it from others.”

Something about that struck a chord in me. “Do you think some people just aren’t wired for love?”

Millie sighed and blew her nose again. “Me, personally? No. I think some people choose to behave in ways that keep them closed off from it, but I think everyone is capable.”

I looked down at the ring on my finger. “Hutton says he’s not wired for love, because of his anxiety. He thinks he’s better off alone.”

“People say a lot of things they don’t mean when they’re scared.”

My eyes filled and I grabbed some toilet paper. “That’s what I mean! You can’t trust people to tell the truth!”

“Does Hutton know how you feel? Did you tell him?”

“No, but I implied it.”

“Felicity.” She put a hand on my arm. “Tell him the truth about your feelings. I’m not saying you have to get engaged or married or even keep living together. But why not at least be honest? What if hearing the words is the push he needs?”

I shook my head. “He doesn’t want to hear those words from me.”

“But you just told me—”

“I’m not done. He has to be out of the house two weeks after the party. Our plan was to end things by then.”

“I remember the plan,” she said drily.

“But then this morning he comes into the bedroom with a new plan. He said maybe he’ll rent another place here and I can live in it. This way he’ll have a place to stay when he comes to town.”

Millie shrank back and wrinkled her nose. “What?”

“He wants to keep me like a pet,” I said, gesturing to Muffin.

“This makes no sense.” Millie seemed genuinely perplexed. “Why would he say that? He loves you.”