Unforgettable (Cloverleigh Farms #5)(35)

“Exactly.”

I crossed one arm over my stomach and chewed the thumb of the opposite hand. “You don’t think it’s a terrible idea?”

“It’s a terrible idea if you’re looking for something deep and meaningful out of it. But if all you’re looking for is a good time, and it won’t mess with your head, maybe it’s part of the closure you’re looking for. Like maybe you need to get him out of your system once and for all. On your terms.”

I perched on the edge of my desk again. “Maybe.”

“But for the love of God, use protection if you do.”

I laughed. “I’m pretty sure Tyler would be all over that. The man does not want children.”

“No?”

I shook my head. “We talked about it last night.”

“Really.” Chloe crossed her legs. “That’s interesting. Did you guys discuss the adoption thing at all?”

“We did, actually. Not until the end of the night when he took me home, but then he came right out and asked me about it. He wanted to know whether the baby I had was a boy or a girl.”

“Wow. How did he take the news?”

I shrugged. “He was quiet at first, but when I told him about the couple who adopted him, he said he was glad he’d asked. It’s so weird, Chloe. I really think he was able to move on from it just like that”—I snapped my fingers—“and never feel anything about it again.”

“Yeah, well, in general, guys are better at that than women. They can file their emotions away in a box and not allow them to seep into other parts of their lives. Especially a guy like Tyler, who had a fuck ton of pressure to deal with.”

“Yeah.”

“But that doesn’t mean they’re not still there,” she said, surprising me. “It just means he doesn’t like opening that box. Most men don’t.”

“What about Oliver?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oliver was excellent at keeping the box locked up. But he is learning that opening it up is not going to kill him, and in fact, science has shown it leads to increased blowjobs and occasional butt stuff.”

I burst out laughing. “Okay. Good to know—sort of.”

Chloe smiled and stood up. “I better get home. We have dinner plans with Mack and Frannie tonight. Did this help at all?”

“I think so,” I hedged. “I guess I have to just learn to feel the things I feel without judging myself, no matter what they are.”

“I agree one thousand percent,” she said, coming forward to give me a hug. “And you’re going to be okay no matter what.”





After my chat with Chloe, I stayed busy checking tasks off my list, including setup for Sadie’s wedding and thinking about potential songs for Tyler and Sadie’s dance. I stayed away from anything slow, sappy and overdone, and gravitated toward songs that reminded me of their sibling relationship—playful, loving, timeless. In the end I had a short list of suggestions that included tunes by Frank Sinatra, Stevie Wonder, Amy Winehouse, and John Legend.

I was sitting at my desk when a text from Tyler came in around quarter to eight. I’m bored.

Smiling, I messaged him back. Why?

Tyler: I’m done eating. Now I’m just listening to people I don’t know make speeches and eyeballing the door.

Me: I’d be bored too.

Tyler: I’d rather be with you.

I was still thinking about how to respond when another text from him came in.

Tyler: Can I still come by?

Me: Sure. I have some song suggestions for you.

Tyler: Okay. I’m either going to make a run for it when no one is looking or fake appendicitis here in a minute.

Me: Haha. Good luck. The outside door of the wedding barn is locked, so text me when you get here, okay?

Tyler: Okay. See you soon.

I set my phone aside and put both hands over my fluttering stomach.





About twenty minutes later, he messaged me that he was outside, and I went to open the door. My heart raced at the sight of him.

“Hey,” I said, catching the scent of his cologne as he came in. “You escaped.”

“I escaped.”

I locked the door behind him. “So which was it? Did you ghost or fake an illness?”

“I ghosted. But I texted Sadie what I was doing so she wouldn’t get mad.”

“Ah. Smart.”

“What have you been up to?”

“Working. Come with me. I have some songs to play for you, then once you choose we can work on some steps.” I led him into the dimly lit reception room, where I’d cued up the sound system. Plugging my phone into it, I invited him to sit with me on the band platform and listen to a little of each song. He ended up choosing “Isn’t She Lovely?” by Stevie Wonder, because he said their dad had been a fan.

“She’ll love that,” I said, happy with his selection. “And it’s a nice mid-tempo song that will make everyone smile, not cry.”

“They might cry when they see my moves,” he said.

I laughed and slapped his shoulder. “Will you please trust me? This is not going to be difficult. I’m going to edit this to be a short version, two minutes max. And I’ll make sure it’s the version the deejay has.”