17. Felicity

felicity

. . .

Better than nothing?

When I heard the front door shut, I burst into tears. Which was so stupid—even if we weren’t faking everything, I’d known all along what we were doing was temporary. I wasn’t a kid anymore, blindsided by an ugly truth in the middle of the night. No one had lied to me. No one had made me any promises.

But better than nothing ? Being his girlfriend when he came to town? Living alone in a house he was paying for? What the fuck?

I rolled over and sobbed into my pillow. This was my fault.

He’d told me from the start he was shitty at relationships and didn’t want one. He told me he was never lonely. He told me he didn’t have the temperament to be a husband or father, and since those were things I was hoping to have one day, did it really matter if I was in love with him or not?

He was who he was, and I’d always said I would never want him to be anybody else. In New York, he’d flat out said, I’m set in my ways and not going to change. Take me or leave me.

I said I’d always take him. It wasn’t fair of me to change my mind.

I’d get through this week and the party, and then we’d have to call it quits.

My heart was already broken anyway.

Eventually, I dragged myself out of bed and checked my phone—the first thing I saw was yet another text from Mimi. Hey, not sure if you’ve been getting my messages, but really need a chat. Trust me when I say you can’t afford to ignore me.

Disgusted, I deleted the message and went to make myself some coffee. She probably wanted to give me tips for growing my social media following—although, at this point, my follower count far exceeded hers. Or maybe she wanted to offer hair and makeup advice. Get a close-up look at my ring. Hound me for more details about my wedding.

I distracted myself with work, editing some photos, drafting posts, responding to emails, replying to comments on social media. My one-star review on Dearly Beloved had finally been removed—thank heavens—but I was anxious to have some good ones in its place. I flipped through my calendar, looking at the coming months’ catering gigs and shifts at Etoile.

The engagement party date was circled in red.

When the calendar blurred, I got up from the table, changed into workout clothes, and took a walk through the woods surrounding Hutton’s house. When I got back, I put a towel out on the deck and did some yoga and stretches in the sun. Breathing deeply, I reminded myself that I still had a plan. I still had goals. I still had dreams. And just because Hutton was leaving didn’t mean I’d never see him again. With some time and distance between us, maybe we could repair our friendship.

But would I ever feel this way about anyone else?

When tears threatened once more, I got up and took a shower. Afterward, wrapped in a towel, I walked into the closet to get dressed for work.

And saw the Cosette Lavigne garment bag.

Unable to resist, I unzipped the bag and took out the gorgeous white confection of a dress, took in its full skirt and deep V neckline and statement sleeves. I recalled Hutton asking what the hell that meant, and a laugh turned into a sob.

Hanging the dress up, I spun around and raced into the bathroom. Dug out the scissors.

And this time I cut.

Less than an hour later, I knocked on Millie’s front door.

She pulled it open and gasped. “Oh no. More bangs.”

Nodding, I began to cry, and she quickly ushered me into the house and wrapped her arms around me. “Shhhh, it’s okay. They’re a little extreme, but at least they’re even... ish. Did you cut any off the back?”

“No,” I blubbered. “I stopped myself for once.”

“Good girl.” She released me and stood back, hands on my shoulders, taking in my black pants and white chef’s coat. “Got time for some tea or lemonade?”

“Yes. Thank you.” I followed her back to the kitchen and sat at the table while she poured us some lemonade and hulled some fresh strawberries. Muffin and Molasses twined around my feet, and Muffin jumped into my lap.

“Here.” Millie set a glass and the fruit in front of me. “I’d open some wine or something, but it looks like you have to work, and something tells me we’d kill that bottle pretty fast.”

“Yeah. I better stick to lemonade.”

She picked up her glass from the counter and lowered herself into the chair next to me. “So what’s going on?”

“It’s this thing with Hutton,” I said, struggling for composure. “I think it might have turned real.”

She pressed her lips together, like she didn’t want to say I told you so.

“It didn’t start real,” I said defensively. “It was all an act. A way for me to save face in front of Mimi Pepper-Peabody and for Hutton to get his mother off his back. Plus, I got to move out of Dad and Frannie’s house.”

“You know, both Winnie and I said you could move in with us, just saying,” Millie pointed out.

“That isn’t the point,” I said irritably.

“Of course not. Sorry. Go on.”

I took a breath. “Everything was fine until we got to New York. That’s where I started to get...confused.”

“Can’t imagine why,” she muttered, taking a sip of her lemonade.

“I was overwhelmed by the...” I rolled my hands like wheels on a bus. “Whirlwind of fantasy. It’s not easy to keep your feet on the ground when your head is in the clouds, you know? I was never the girl who dreamed about being the princess, but Hutton just has this way of making me feel so beautiful and special and deserving.”

“You are, Felicity.” Millie’s voice was firm. “Don’t doubt that.”

My throat hurt, it was so tight. “I don’t know what to do, Millie. Hutton is the only guy I’ve ever felt this close to. The one guy on the planet who gets me, who’s seen me at my best and worst, who knows the crazy inner workings of my mind and doesn’t judge me.”

Millie sat back and draped her arm over her head, half-eaten strawberry still in her hand. “Are you listening to yourself? The one guy, the only guy? You’re in love with Hutton.”

“Shhhhhhhh!” I made frantic erasing motions with my hands in front of her face. “Don’t say it!”

“Why not? I feel like that’s the one thing that’s been said in this kitchen in the last couple weeks that makes any sense at all. This whole fake fiancé routine is insane. You guys love each other. You’re good together. The whole reason people swallowed your whole cockamamie story to begin with is because it’s so obvious to those around you that you two are meant to be.” She shook her head. “I know you’ve got some weird allergy to love, which I have never fully understood, but it’s time to get over it, Felicity.”

I stared at her for a few seconds. “You want to know why I have an allergy to love? I’ll tell you.”

She swallowed and picked up her lemonade. “Yes. Please.”

Muffin purred on my lap, and I was grateful to have something soft and warm to hold as I finally spilled the secret I’d kept from her for over twenty years. “When I was six, I overheard the fight Dad and Mom had the night she told him she was leaving. She said she never wanted us.”

Millie’s jaw fell open. “Oh my God.”

“But that’s not all I heard her say.” In a calm, monotone voice, I laid out the details of what I’d heard, or at least what I remembered hearing. “And within days, she was gone.”

My sister’s face was stricken, her eyes full. “Why didn’t you say something about what you’d heard? To me or to Dad?”

“I didn’t want anyone else to be hurt,” I explained. “What she said meant she didn’t want you or Winnie either. And I knew I wasn’t supposed to be listening. I was worried I might get in trouble.”

Millie got up and disappeared into the bathroom off the front hallway. When she came out, she had a roll of toilet paper in her hand. “Sorry, I’m out of tissues.”

“I’m not going to cry over this,” I said evenly.

“I am.” She set the roll on the table, sat down again, and wept into her hands.

“Millie, don’t.” At seeing my sister upset, my heart broke. “She doesn’t deserve your tears. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you.”

“I’m not crying about her. I’m crying about you,” she said, her shoulders heaving. “Carrying that around all these years and never saying anything about it.”

The lump in my throat grew bigger. “It was a long time ago. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not!” she blubbered, looking up at me with a tear-streaked face. “You’re totally messed up over it. Now I understand why you left your relationships when someone told you they loved you. You never believed them.”

“Even if I did,” I said, shaking my head, “it wouldn’t matter in the end. People can love you one day and not the next. You won’t even know what you did until they’re gone.”

“Oh, Felicity.” Millie tore off some toilet paper and blew her nose. “Mom didn’t leave because of something you did. She left because she met someone else. She ran off with some other guy. She did it to get back at Dad for not paying enough attention to her.”

“But if she really loved us, she’d have stayed,” I insisted.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Millie dabbed beneath her eyes, but her eyeliner and mascara was a mess. “Some people are just bad at love, you know? They’re too selfish or narcissistic, or deep down they don’t love themselves, so they don’t know how to accept it from others.”

Something about that struck a chord in me. “Do you think some people just aren’t wired for love?”

Millie sighed and blew her nose again. “Me, personally? No. I think some people choose to behave in ways that keep them closed off from it, but I think everyone is capable.”

I looked down at the ring on my finger. “Hutton says he’s not wired for love, because of his anxiety. He thinks he’s better off alone.”

“People say a lot of things they don’t mean when they’re scared.”

My eyes filled and I grabbed some toilet paper. “That’s what I mean! You can’t trust people to tell the truth!”

“Does Hutton know how you feel? Did you tell him?”

“No, but I implied it.”

“Felicity.” She put a hand on my arm. “Tell him the truth about your feelings. I’m not saying you have to get engaged or married or even keep living together. But why not at least be honest? What if hearing the words is the push he needs?”

I shook my head. “He doesn’t want to hear those words from me.”

“But you just told me?—”

“I’m not done. He has to be out of the house two weeks after the party. Our plan was to end things by then.”

“I remember the plan,” she said drily.

“But then this morning he comes into the bedroom with a new plan. He said maybe he’ll rent another place here and I can live in it. This way he’ll have a place to stay when he comes to town.”

Millie shrank back and wrinkled her nose. “What?”

“He wants to keep me like a pet,” I said, gesturing to Muffin.

“This makes no sense.” Millie seemed genuinely perplexed. “Why would he say that? He loves you.”

“Not enough,” I said quietly.

For once, Millie had no rebuttal.

My phone buzzed on the table, and I looked at it. “Jesus Christ, this woman is so annoying!”

“Carla again?”

“No, fucking Mimi Pepper-Peabody. She keeps wanting to meet up with me.” I read the text. “Now she’s making threats. This one says ‘If I don’t hear from you within twenty-four hours, you won’t have a chance to tell me your side of the story.’”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I have no idea. I’m fucking exhausted.” Setting my phone down, I rubbed my face with both hands. “But I have to go to work.”

“Me too. I’m sorry—I feel like I wasn’t much help.” She walked me to the door. “Want to hang out tomorrow?”

“Maybe. I’ll text you.” I gave her a hug, and she didn’t let go right away.

“I wish you would have told me about that night,” she said, her voice cracking. “I feel awful you went through that alone.”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you going to tell Dad?”

“No.” I let her go and stood back. “Dad does not need to hear it at this point. He was hard enough on himself, and I don’t want him feeling guilty about this. He’s happy.”

“He is happy. Thank goodness for Frannie.” She laughed a little. “It’s funny to me—Frannie was younger than we are now when she married Dad. Didn’t she seem so old?”

I had to smile. “Yes. I’d never seen two old people act so stupid. Especially Dad.”

“Think they would have gotten together if we hadn’t told him what was what?”

I shrugged. “Probably. It would have taken longer, since Dad was so stubborn, but they were obviously in love.”

She poked my shoulder. “So you’re saying love finds a way?”

“It’s different for us.” I frowned. “We’re not Dad and Frannie.”

“What’s so different?”

“We’re just—” I struggled for an answer, then I heard Hutton’s voice in my head. “We were born under different stars.”

Twenty minutes later, I arrived at Etoile. After pulling myself together in the parking lot, I went in the kitchen door.

Gianni glanced at me as I passed by his office. “Oh, hey. Someone’s waiting to see you.”

“What? Where?”

“I think she’s in the tasting room now, but she walked right into the kitchen a little bit ago.”

I rolled my eyes. “Tall blonde?”

“Yeah. I told her she couldn’t wait back here.” He grinned. “Sent her Ellie’s way.”

“Sorry about that. I’ll deal with her.” I checked the clock. “Should only take a few minutes.”

“Go ahead.”

Annoyed, I hurried through the empty restaurant, across the lobby, and down the steps to the winery. Inside the tasting room, I spotted Mimi at the near end of the bar checking her phone. Her back was to me, but I’d recognize that sleek golden blowout anywhere. Frowning, I touched my new bangs.

“Hey,” I said, approaching her from behind. “You’re looking for me?”

She turned on her stool and gave me a fake smile. “There you are.”

I held out my arms. “Here I am.”

She studied me critically. “Did you get your bangs cut again? You really should fire that stylist.”

“What do you want, Mimi? I have to get to work.”

“You know,” she said, folding her arms. “I was wondering why you’d still work as a cook since getting engaged to a billionaire.”

“I like my job,” I said stiffly.

She laughed. “That’s good, because now that I know the whole thing was a scam and you’re not really engaged to a billionaire at all, you’ll probably be working it for a while.”