Unforgettable (Cloverleigh Farms #5)(18)

She turned to face me. “Then why not call her? Even afterward?”

“I don’t know, Sadie. I put it out of my head. And the more time that went by, the more awkward it would have been. I didn’t want to go back there. And for all I know, she didn’t either. She had my number,” I pointed out. “She never used it.”

“You never once wondered about the baby?”

“I never let myself. There was no point.”

She leaned back against the counter. “I just can’t believe I didn’t know. Every time I talked to her . . . I feel weird about it now.”

“Well, don’t. Just forget I said anything, okay? Let’s drop it.”

She studied me for a long moment. “I don’t think I ever realized how repressed you are. It’s not good for you.”

I scowled. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not repressed.”

“Yes, you are. You just told me what an expert you are at shutting things out. You can’t keep doing that. You need to make your peace with this.”

“I have.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’ve kept this buried for, what, twenty years?”

“Eighteen.”

“Whatever. There’s a reason you’re talking about it all of a sudden. It bothers you.”

“No, it doesn’t.” But I was growing agitated. “I’m talking about it because I wanted to share it with you, although I’m beginning to regret my decision.”

She shook her head. “It’s more than that.”

“I told you, I saw April this morning.”

“It’s more than that too.”

“I’m seeing her again tonight.”

Her eyes took on a knowing look, and she nodded. “Aha. The plot thickens.”

“Look, it’s not a big deal. We’re meeting for a drink.”

“Just a drink?”

“Okay, dinner and a drink,” I admitted.

“Are you going to talk about what happened?”

“No, Sadie. It’s dinner. Not a therapy session. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, be nice to her. Apologize for being selfish.” She shook a finger at me. “And if she wants to talk, you listen.”

“I will.” I rolled my eyes. “Can we drop this now?”

“Yes. Thanks for telling me.” Then the little shit walked across the kitchen and patted my stubbly cheek. “I knew you were in there somewhere. Now go get that haircut. And don’t forget to shave.”





Six





April





My meeting with the engaged couple finished by six-thirty, and I slipped into my office to freshen up.

Nothing drastic, of course. This wasn’t a date. But I traded my utilitarian flats for the sexy heels, made sure my black skater skirt wasn’t too wrinkled, checked the mirror on the back of my office door to be certain my emerald green blouse was tucked in properly, and gave my hair a little boost with some dry shampoo.

Okay, maybe I swapped my regular nude lipstick for something a little deeper and more sultry. Perhaps I spritzed myself with a little more perfume. And possibly I undid one more button on my blouse, but only so my four-leaf clover pendant showed. I didn’t wear a lot of jewelry, but I loved that necklace—it had been a gift from my parents when I first moved away from home.

There was nothing wrong with any of that, was there? I mean, how often did I have dinner with a hot guy? (Borderline never.) When was the last time I’d worn perfume? (Couldn’t recall. Bottle was dusty.) What was the harm in a little flirtation with an old friend? (None that I could think of.)

But admittedly, I didn’t think too hard. I just wanted to feel beautiful and have a good time, and if it happened to coincide with being the sole object of Tyler Shaw’s attention tonight, so be it.

At a couple minutes before seven, I got a text from an unknown number. I’m here at the bar. Take your time.

I added him to my contacts and replied, See you in a few.

When I was ready, I grabbed my bag, switched off the lights in my office, and headed for the door. Walking at a leisurely pace, I followed the paved walkway from the wedding barn, where my office was located, over to the inn. It was a mild evening, and I took deep, calming breaths of fresh spring air. But the closer I got to the inn, the more nervous I felt.

What would it be like to be alone with him after all these years? Would the subject of that night come up? The pregnancy? The adoption? How would we handle it? Was there enough distance between then and now for us to be able to talk about it without weirdness?

There was also a distinct possibility he could turn out to be a big fat jerk. Maybe that vulnerability I thought I’d glimpsed this morning was all in my head. Maybe he’d snap at me again—I wouldn’t be so quick to forgive this time. Maybe I’d need an excuse to duck out early.

Oh for goodness sake, April, I told myself as I pulled open the glass door to the inn’s lobby. Relax. But just in case, right before I went into the bar, I pulled out my phone and texted Chloe. Hey, can you check in with me in about an hour or so?