Tease (Cloverleigh Farms #8)(78)

My first instinct was to tell Hutton about it, but then I remembered this morning—our first fight? The beginning of the end? The end of the beginning? Where were we now?

During my shift, I made up my mind that I would not tell him about the bullshit with Mimi before the hearing. He needed to be at his best over the next couple days, and the tension between us was stressful enough.

What would happen tonight when I got home? We hadn’t spoken all day, and he was leaving first thing in the morning. Would he be asleep? Would he be awake and want to talk? Would he apologize for being insensitive earlier, or would he stubbornly refuse to see why I didn’t like his idea?

When I arrived, I discovered that he’d already gone to bed, leaving just one light on for me in the living room. His roller bag was already by the front door, and his laptop case was beside it.

I locked the front door and went into the dark, silent bedroom. Quietly as possible, I undressed, pulled on a T-shirt, and went into the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind me. I switched on the light and saw Hutton’s leather toiletry bag on the vanity, and beside it were the last few things he’d use tomorrow and then pack up.

I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and rubbed moisturizer into my skin—that’s when I thought of something I could do for Hutton that might make him a little less anxious.

It was a small thing, but hopefully it would help.

When I was ready for bed, I turned off the bathroom light, entered the bedroom, and slid beneath the sheets. Hutton’s breathing was deep and even, and I made sure not to disturb him.

But it struck me that this was the first night I’d been here that we hadn’t reached for each other in the dark.

Rolling away from him, I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears and curled into a ball.

When I woke up, he was gone.





TWENTY





HUTTON





I listened to her come in, get ready for bed, and slide in beside me. But rather than pull her close like I wanted to, I feigned sleep.

My heart ached when she rolled away from me, and I heard her sniffle.

But I kept my eyes shut and my body still.

Avoidance was my specialty.





I arrived in D.C. exhausted and miserable, and spent the day being dragged around by Wade, who wanted me to schmooze a bunch of politicians ahead of tomorrow’s hearing.

But schmoozing was not in my skill set on a good day. I was terrible at remembering names, I had no idea where anyone was from, my head was pounding, and Wade constantly telling me to chill the fuck out was not helping.

By five o’clock, I was beyond done.

I pulled Wade aside at the cocktail reception I was suffering through. “I’m going back to the hotel,” I told him in a voice that said don’t fuck with me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Dude, don’t leave now. Orbach isn’t even here yet.”

I had no idea who Orbach was or why I needed to care that he hadn’t arrived. “I’m out,” I said. “Sorry.”

Wade rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll stay and gather the intel. We’ll have breakfast tomorrow before the hearing. Answer your fucking phone in the morning.”

Ducking out of the reception without another word, I caught a car back to the hotel, went up to my room, kicked off my shoes, took off my jacket and tie, and crashed. I hadn’t slept at all last night, and I’d felt like a complete asshole leaving this morning without saying goodbye or even kissing her cheek. Instead, I’d left her a note on the counter.

Didn’t want to wake you. I’ll text you later.

Lame as fuck, and after I left, I thought of a hundred other things I could have and should have said.

Sorry about yesterday.

I was a dick.

Let’s talk when I get home.

I’ll miss you.

I buried my head under the pillow and fell asleep.





I woke up groggy and confused. It took me a minute to remember where I was. Checking my phone, I saw that I’d been asleep for three hours and had missed texts from my assistant in San Francisco, my mother, my sister, and Wade, but not Felicity.

My assistant wanted to make sure I had the most updated schedule for tomorrow. My mother wanted to make sure Felicity and I were still planning to meet her and my dad for dinner at Etoile Saturday night—the ruse for getting us to the party. My sister wanted to wish me luck and also offer advice about dealing with negative thoughts.

You can separate yourself from the thoughts. Create some space between yourself and those negative feelings. Acknowledge them, but don’t struggle against them. The fight makes it worse. They’re not as powerful as they seem.

Frowning, I set my phone down and rubbed my face. My stomach growled loudly, and I realized I hadn’t eaten much of anything today. I scanned the QR code for the room service menu and ordered dinner. Then I took off my shirt and dress pants, tugged on some sweats, and opened my laptop to go over my notes.

But I couldn’t think. I felt horrible about the silence between Felicity and me. Should I call her? She was at work, but she’d see it eventually. At least she’d know I was thinking about her, and that I cared enough to actually make a phone call.

Before I dialed, I rehearsed what I’d say. I even wrote it down on the hotel stationery.