Tease (Cloverleigh Farms #8)(80)

All day Thursday, I kept checking the news online, hoping to hear how the hearing was going. It was live-streamed, but I couldn’t bring myself to watch it, scared that I would either jinx him or fall apart.

Finally, my search results turned up a nine-minute video of hearing highlights with key takeaways by a few talking heads. I watched the entire thing, gasping when they showed a clip of Hutton speaking. I could tell he was nervous, and he kept his eyes on his notes, but his voice was strong, he sounded smart and confident, and the talking heads commented that of all the crypto CEO’s who spoke today, “Hutton French was the most articulate, and gave measured, thoughtful answers to all questions, admitting when something was uncertain and offering solutions that addressed major concerns.”

I nearly wept with relief.

I was watching it a second time, sitting at Millie’s table having an early dinner before going into work, when Winnie walked in.

“Oh, hey,” she said, clearly surprised to see me. “I need to borrow Millie’s hand mixer, and she said I should just come get it. Mine broke. What are you doing here?”

“Um . . .” My mind searched frantically for an excuse before I gave up. “Actually, I’m staying here right now.”

Winnie’s eyes widened. “What? Why? Did you and Hutton have a fight?”

“Not exactly.” Tears filled my eyes, and I tried to blink them away. “We’re just taking a little time-out.”

“A time-out? But you just got engaged! Your party is in two days!” Her eyes narrowed. “Is that why you cut those bangs?”

I pushed my salad around on the plate. “Yeah.”

Winnie sat down at the table. “Need to talk?”

“There’s really not much to talk about. We’re just—thinking things over. Taking a step back.” I tried to smile, but it was pretty pathetic. “We did move kind of fast.”

Winnie was distressed. “I guess, but . . . but you’ve been so close for so many years! You had these feelings buried deep inside you! He was pining for you from afar, and you were locked in a tower of longing, knowing you were meant to be, and suddenly there he was!”

I raised my eyebrows. “Wow. A tower of longing?”

She waved a hand in the air. “I’m a romantic, okay? Sue me.”

“Look, it’s just not that simple.” I picked up my plate and went over to the sink. “Hutton and I both have some baggage that makes it difficult to trust.”

“Everyone has baggage! Dex’s baggage could sink a ship! His parents’ marriage was awful, his dad was absent and emotionally abusive, his divorce was difficult, he’s a single dad . . . believe me, it was not easy to work through. But if you love each other, you do the work.”

“I get it.” I stared out the window over the sink. “And maybe we’ll figure it out.”

“You have to. You love each other . . . right?” Winnie sounded scared.

“There is love between us,” I said carefully.

She was silent for a minute. “What should I do about the party?”

“Nothing.” I turned around and faced her. “Just let it go on as planned. We don’t want to cause anyone any stress.”

“But if you guys aren’t even together, what’s the point?”

“We’re not not together,” I said, attempting to inject a little hope into my voice.

“So why are you living with Millie?”

“For some space. But Winnie, you can’t tell anyone I’m here.” I spoke seriously. “I mean it—not Mom, not Dad, not Hutton’s family, not anyone. I know it’s hard for you to keep secrets, but I need you to keep this to yourself.”

“I promise,” she said solemnly. “I’m locking my lips and throwing away the key.” She mimed turning a key in front of her mouth and tossing it away.

“Thank you.”

“But I’m really sad about this.” Her shoulders slumped. “I love you guys together. I want you to have a happily ever after.”

My breath hitched, and I tamped down the sob threatening to erupt. “We’ll always be friends, no matter what. That might be what our happily ever after looks like, okay?”

She folded her arms and pouted. “No. That is not how a romance ends. I don’t accept it.”

I had to laugh, even though the sadness was heavy in my heart. “Try. I will too.”





Before leaving for work, I sent Hutton a text. Congratulations on the hearing. I’m very happy for you. Have a safe trip back.

Fighting tears, I stuck my phone in my bag and went out the front door.

He’d find the letter when he got home tomorrow.





TWENTY-TWO





HUTTON





I read the text message from Felicity and frowned. Not because it wasn’t kind, but because it didn’t sound like her—there was no levity, no joy, no smile behind the words. She said she was happy, but it was obvious she wasn’t.

She was hurt, and she was pulling away from me.

My initial thought about the distance between us being helpful seemed ludicrous now. I missed her too much. I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to call her and tell her how much it meant that she’d stuck that lotion in my bag, how I’d put it on my hands and occasionally brought my knuckles to my nose during the hearing to inhale the scent, how it helped keep me grounded in the moment and prevented my mind from spiraling.