Chapter Thirteen

Roarke…

I had to get out of that hotel room before I told Hannah everything, and that would be a mistake. If it wasn’t a mistake, I’d have told her before now. So I do what I can’t do in Sweetwater.

I go to Whataburger.

I mean, how the hell else do you deal with being kicked to the curb by the only woman you’ve ever loved? It doesn’t matter that I just ate. I order a burger, onion rings, and a strawberry shake, and then I hit the highway. If I tell Hannah I didn’t cheat, I have to tell her about a vicious battle between our families that left her father determined to keep us apart at all costs, including framing me for cheating. And since Jason’s father was involved with it all, too, telling Hannah means telling him, and Jason doesn’t need to hear this shit about a father he’s recently lost. And it’s not like telling the story saves me with Hannah. Either she’ll hate my family or her own. There’s no win for me in this because there’s no win for her.

I lost her years ago.

I won’t get her back now.

No matter how much I love her.

As insane as it is, it’s because I love her that I won’t tell her that I didn’t cheat on her. It’s because I love her that I let her go, but now that she’s back, saving her might just kill me.

…

Hannah…

I don’t stay in the hotel room. Funny how sex with your ex, followed by tears, will wipe out the effects of wine, especially when it wasn’t that much wine. Instead, I grab an Uber to take me to my car and do what I couldn’t do in L.A. I climb in my car and drive to Whataburger, where I order a burger, onion rings, and a strawberry shake. With my feel-good order in hand, I hit the highway and drive toward Dallas. I start eating and do so heartily, hungrier than I realized. The truth is, other than the brownie at the restaurant, I didn’t eat much today. Besides, every self-respecting Texan knows that emotional distress is made better by Whataburger. I concentrate on every bite and use my onion rings as an escape from any other thought. I will not replay any kiss, touch, or intimate moment with Roarke. I will eat Whataburger. There is only Whataburger seducing me right here, right now. It’s a strategy that works for about ten onion rings and a bite of the burger.

Then it’s all over. The mental hammering begins; the revisiting of my time with Roarke takes over. I replay it all, every minute with him in that hotel room, and when I arrive at my loft-style apartment, it’s with an empty bag, a full stomach, and a heavy heart. I undress and fall into bed. I don’t cry again. That’s the thing about Whataburger and emotions. It fills you up and weighs you down. I need to sleep, and somehow, I do, which I only know as fact because I shut my eyes to darkness and wake to sunlight trying to burn holes in my retinas. There is also a sound.

I jolt and sit up, looking around the bedroom that is only a bed and not much more, to realize that sound is my phone that has now stopped ringing. I grab it from the nightstand to find Linda’s name on my caller ID. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I punch redial. “How are you?” I ask the minute she answers.

“Going home tomorrow,” she says. “Dying anyway. I need Starbucks. I need it like I need my next breath.”

I laugh. “I’ll come bring you Starbucks. I need to talk to you anyway. Wait. What about being diabetic? Can you have Starbucks?”

“Shut up,” she says. “Bring the damn coffee or die. And what do you need to talk about? Did something go wrong?”

“No,” I say quickly. “No. Nothing is wrong, but I want to talk to you about that job I booked. I’ll tell you all about it over Starbucks. I’ll get sugar-free syrup.”

“Don’t be a bitch. If you walk in here with sugar-free—”

I hang up. She’s getting sugar-free. I’m about to set down my phone when it hits me to change my L.A. number to a Texas number. The way my L.A. boss made me change my Texas number to an L.A. number. I’d resisted. I’d known that once my Texas number changed, Roarke could no longer call me. In the end, my new L.A. number brought me relief, regret, and finally, peace. Relief that I could stop waiting for Roarke to call. Regret that I wouldn’t know if he finally did. Peace that I’d finally stopped waiting on him. That had been four months after I’d moved. Four months that had been all about waiting for Roarke, not living for me. Last night wasn’t a return to the past. It wasn’t about him. It was about me. I did what I said I would do. He walked out, but he did so knowing that this time, I just needed closure.

Why doesn’t it feel like that’s what I have?

I hurry to the shower, and I swear, as I step under the warm water, I can still smell Roarke’s cologne, and I hate the regret I feel as it fades into perfumed body wash. An hour later, I’m in the used piece of junk Ford Taurus I bought when I got to town, dressed in jeans, a tank top, and sneakers, with boots on my mind; I need a pair before I head to the ranch tomorrow. I force myself to think about shopping, and that leads me to the budget for this project. I’m just arriving at the hospital when Jessica calls.

“Hey, you,” she says. “How are you?”

“Good,” I say, pulling into a parking spot and killing my engine. “My mind is swimming with holiday ideas. I actually think I might put on a few holiday tunes on my way to Sweetwater tomorrow.”

“And jingle all the way here?” We both laugh, and she murmurs, “Oh God. That was a bad joke.”

“It was pretty bad, but I still liked it.”

“Good. We’re going to get along well then. I’ll fall on my face. You can laugh.”

“Or we’ll fall together and laugh together.”

“Even better,” she says warmly. “I was talking to Jason this morning, and we know you’ll have to basically be here for a month to make this happen. I’m going to send you a proposed budget and what we’d suggest as your payment, which I hope you feel is generous and appropriate, considering the commitment. We also recognize that while here, you can’t be growing a new business, which is an accommodation we’re making in your pay.”

“This job will single-handedly be the reference I need to get new jobs.”

“We hope it will be,” she says. “And listen, we’re redoing the plumbing in the cabin. It’s a long story, but there were pipes running from the orchard that caused widespread flooding and other issues.”

“Orchard? There’s an orchard there now?”

“Yes. Jason’s dad tried to transition from cattle to apples. Ultimately, it’s going to be profitable, but it was launched on a small budget and poor construction. Anyway, I talked to Sue at the Sweetwater Bed and Breakfast. She has a room for you for the next week on us. After that, we’ll have a couple of options here at the ranch. Does that work?”

“Yes, of course. I love Sue. She and my mom were friends back in the day.” It’s the first time that I think I might have to tell my parents what’s going on. Word will get back to them, and I don’t want them to be upset. Well, they will be upset that I’m back in Sweetwater, but the burn will be more bearable if the news is delivered by me.

Jessica continues. “Sue told me you’re lovely, just like your mom, which I knew already. Can you confirm the email for the proposal and a bank account for a wire?”

We exchange the needed information, and Jessica says her final goodbye. “Give me an hour and check your email. I’ll get the wire complete right away. Talk soon.” She hangs up, and I frown. She’s sending the wire before I read the proposal? My phone buzzes with a text, and I glance at my Apple Watch to read: Starbucks withdrawal is real.

I laugh at Linda’s message and climb out of the car. A few minutes later, I’m sitting in her room listening to her tell me all about a male nurse with a “beautiful butt.” “Seriously,” she says. “It’s a work of art. I’d stay a day longer to ask him on a date, but I’m not up to the rejection right now.”

“Who says he’ll reject you?”

“He’s married.”

“Oh.” My eyes go wide. “Oh. You want to ask him out?”

“No. Yes. No. Of course not. It’s a bad joke. All the nice butts are married. Tell me about the project for Jason.”

I give her the full rundown. “I’ll be gone a month, though. Will you be okay?”

“Honey, you’re renting an office, not in business with me, outside of saving my ass by taking the photography job, which I’ll pay you for.”

“You paid me by giving me the chance to get this job.”

“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Jason and the Horse Wrangler,” she says. “Can you introduce me?”

My stomach knots, and her eyes go wide. “Oh my. What nerve did I just hit?”

Leave it to Linda to miss nothing. “He was the only man I’ve ever loved, but now I hate him, so sure, I’ll fix you up. In fact, he’s single, and he has quite the nice butt. I can attest to that. In fact, I can attest to that quite recently. As in last night, but that’s okay. It was a blast from the past. I was testing him for you. My best friend and my ex. My two best friends, one from the past and one from the present. The perfect couple. You would—”

“Stop right now,” Linda orders. “Stop what you’re doing right now.” She points at me. “Breathe. Deep breath and then start again. What did that asshole do to you?”