22. Hutton

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.

Had my performance been perfect? No. I sweated profusely for five straight hours, struggled to breathe normally, and battled the urge to bolt for the exit sign when it was my turn to be questioned.

But I’d gotten through it. I’d faced the lions and won, or at least hadn’t let them win.

It was enough. And it was her victory too—why wasn’t she here with me to celebrate it?

“Dude, come on. Let’s go get drunk.” Wade came up behind me in the hallway and shouldered me forward. “This smokin’ hot intern told me where she and her friends hang out after work. She said they’ll be there by five-thirty.”

“I’m not interested.”

Wade groaned. “You’re never interested. But you killed it in there, don’t you want to celebrate? One drink. Come on.”

A drink did sound good. My nerves were totally shot. “Fine, one drink. But I’m not going to some bar crowded with interns. Let’s just grab a drink somewhere close, then I’ll go back to the hotel.”

“You’re such a fucking old lady. But fine.” He slung an arm around my neck. “Let’s go.”

“So what’s the deal with this engagement?” Wade asked after we’d rehashed the hearing. “You really gonna marry this chick?”

I took a swallow of whiskey. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

He laughed. “Trouble in paradise already?”

I remained silent. Took another sip.

“Listen, I get it. Women are a fucking pain in the ass. They’re never satisfied. You give them one thing, and then they want more. They say they don’t want you to change, but they do. They claim they’re happy if you’re happy, but that’s the biggest fucking lie of all.” Wade finished off his drink and put his hand up to order another. “They don’t want you to be happy. They want you to be miserable, and they go at it like it’s their job .”

“Felicity isn’t like that.”

“Well, she’s not like that now . But it changes once that ring is on your finger. Mark my words.”

“I’ve known her for fifteen years. She’d never want anyone to be miserable, least of all me.”

Wade shrugged. “If you say so. But think about it—marriage is fucking permanent. You can’t just get out of it. One woman until the end. One body. One piece of ass for the rest of your life.”

I frowned at him. “You’re a dick.”

He laughed and picked up his second drink. “I’m just trying to be a good friend, dude. Warn you about what’s ahead—but if you like eating the same meal every night until the end of time, be my guest and get married. Because that’s what it’s like. Even if the steak is good, you get bored. And I can’t help it if I sometimes want to taste something else.”

“If you don’t stop talking, I might actually punch you in the face.”

Wade looked at me in surprise. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem is that I love this woman you’re talking about like she’s a fucking piece of meat. And I can’t think of anything better than having her to myself for the rest of my life. The thought of being with someone else is absurd. The thought of her being with someone else makes me want to put my fist through the wall. The thought of losing her because I’m a fucking idiot is unacceptable.”

Wade shrugged. “Okay. Then get married. But don’t blame me when it all goes to hell and you wish you were banging hot interns instead of getting your ass chewed out.”

“I have to go.” I pulled out my wallet and threw some cash on the bar.

“When are you back in the office?”

“I don’t know.” I stood up, stood taller. “Maybe never.”

“Huh? What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means I did what I came here to do, but it doesn’t matter as much as I thought it would—or rather, the reason it matters has nothing to do with HFX, and everything to do with me realizing I might fail but taking the risk anyway, because not taking it would have been the greater failure.”

“Dude. You lost me.”

“Never mind.” I was already heading for the door.

Losing Wade, I could handle.

Losing Felicity, no fucking way.

In the car on the way back to the hotel, I changed my flight so I could get out of D.C. tonight. Then I packed in a hurry and raced to the airport.

It was late when I got home, after midnight, so I wasn’t surprised that all the lights were off. I let myself in, dumped my bags at the door, and rushed into the dark, silent bedroom.

“Hey.” I sat down on her side of the bed and put a hand out. “I’m home.”

But she wasn’t there. I felt around for a few seconds, then panicked and switched on the lamp. The bed was empty.

I jumped to my feet. “Felicity?”

No answer.

Frantic, I checked the bathroom and noticed all her things were gone. I looked in the guest bedroom across the hall, even out on the deck. I went downstairs and looked in every room. I went into the garage—her car was gone.

“Fuck!” I pulled the door shut and went into the kitchen, my heart racing.

That’s when I saw the envelope on the island. It was white, and my name was written on it in her loopy, girlish handwriting.

My chest grew tighter as I ripped it open, smoothed out the page, and began to read.

Dear Hutton,

By now you’ve realized that I moved out while you were in D.C. I’m so sorry for doing it without telling you, but I didn’t want you to be worried or distracted during the hearing. You needed to be able to focus one hundred percent on your testimony. I didn’t want to add any additional stress.

I think this time apart is a good thing. As much as I have loved living with you and pretending to be a couple, it feels like the right time to step back from the fantasy and remember what’s real.

If you could please respect my need for a little space, I’d really appreciate it. I’ll get in touch on Saturday and we can make a plan for attending the party. Maybe on Sunday we can discuss the best way to handle the breakup where our families are concerned.

I hope you don’t think I’m upset with you—I’m not. I am upset, but only with myself for getting carried away. I forgot that it was all for show, and my feelings for you have grown beyond make-believe.

This isn’t your fault.

I’ll never forget this time we had together.

Love,

Felicity

P.S. I have been and always shall be your friend.

The postscript was written in code, and that, almost more than anything else, made my throat constrict and my heart threaten to splinter.

I had to fix this. I had to win her back.

Friday morning, I skipped my run and showed up at my sister’s house before eight a.m.

She looked surprised when she answered my knock. “You’re back already?”

“Yeah. Can I come in?”

“Of course!” She grabbed me in a hug. “Congratulations. You did so great!”

“Thanks.”

“How’d you get through it? Was it my stellar advice?”

“Your suggestions did help,” I admitted. “Thanks for the text.”

“You’re welcome.” She let me go and gave me a smug grin. “The things I said were based on the principles of acceptance and commitment therapy, by the way. I asked Natalia for a few ideas. She’s still open to talking with you.”

“I might take her up on that.” I exhaled and adjusted the cap on my head. “But first, I need your advice.”

Her jaw dropped. She put a hand by her ear. “Did I hear that right?”

“Please don’t joke. This is serious.”

She studied my face. “Okay. Want something to eat? Coffee?”

“Coffee sounds good. I didn’t sleep much.”

“I can tell. You’ve got some major circles under those eyes.”

I sat at the table. “Where are the kids?”

“They slept at Mom and Dad’s. I have early appointments this morning, so I have to be at the office in about forty-five minutes.” She brought me a mug of black coffee and sat down. “Speak.”

“Felicity moved out while I was gone. She did it without telling me.”

She nodded. “How do you feel about that?”

“At first I was angry that she just up and left without saying anything—we’ve been friends a long time, and it felt shitty.”

“That’s understandable.”

“But she left me this letter that explained why she moved out, and it fucking tore me apart inside.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she didn’t want to tell me because she didn’t want me to have additional stress while I was in D.C.”

“That was thoughtful of her.”

“She said she left because she needed to step back from the fantasy of being a couple and remember what was real. She said she got carried away and her feelings grew beyond make-believe.”

Allie nodded. “She’s scared. She ran away.”

“She said it’s not my fault and she doesn’t blame me.”

“Do you blame yourself?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I leaned forward, elbows on the table, head in my hands. “She’s everything to me, Allie.”

“She needs to hear that.”

“She told me not to contact her. She asked me to respect her need for space.”

“What about the party?”

“She said she’ll call me tomorrow and we’ll make a plan to attend it, and then afterward figure out how to end things.” I jumped up. “But I can’t let that happen. I can’t go a day without trying to get her back.”

Allie looked surprised. “Okay.”

“That’s why I need your advice.” I started to pace. “What can I say to convince her to give me another chance? How can I prove to her that she can trust me?”

“You could start with telling her how you feel,” she suggested. “If you love her, she needs to hear it.”

“I do love her. I do. But...” I stopped in my tracks. “I can’t get over this fucking thing in my head telling me I’m not good enough for her.”

My sister shrugged. “Maybe you’re not.”

I stared at her. “Huh?”

“I mean, maybe the thing in your head is right. Maybe you’re not good enough for her. Maybe you’re going to fuck it up. Maybe she’ll decide you’re not worth the trouble.”

I frowned at her. “You’re not helping.”

“But maybe ,” she went on, “ maybe you risk it. Maybe you get to spend the rest of your life doing things to make every day better for her. You’ve already got her heart, Hutton. So maybe you find ways—big and small—to deserve it forever.” She tilted her head. “Doesn’t that sound like a nice way to live?”

I could picture it—life unfolding in a series of days, some good, some bad, but all of them worth living, because she was mine and I was hers and we would always have each other.

But first, I had to find her.

“Thanks,” I said as I ran for the door.

“You’re welcome!” she called after me. “I’ll bill you for the session!”

I drove by her parents’ house, but her car wasn’t there. I wasn’t sure where else she might be staying—with one of her sisters?—so I drove home and called her before going in the house.

As I suspected, her voicemail picked up. I left a message. “Hey, it’s me. I found your letter. I want to respect your need for space, but I also really want to talk to you. Can you call me back please?”

Inside the house, I began to overthink every single word I’d said in the message and wondered if she’d even think twice before deleting it. But when I caught my mind getting stuck in that negative loop, I decided to go work out instead of sit there and speculate about how she might react. I pictured her making her little witch hat over her head, and she’d be right. I was letting fear have too much power. I needed to give her a chance to think and breathe.

But when she hadn’t called me back by two o’clock, I was losing my mind. I drove by her folks’ house again, but her car still wasn’t there. I had no idea where either of her sisters lived, but I knew one of them worked at Cloverleigh Farms and one worked at Abelard Vineyards.

Abelard was closer, so I headed up Old Mission Peninsula.

After parking in the guest lot, I rushed into the lobby of the French chateau-inspired inn, and frantically looked around. A few people stared at me, and I started to sweat. “Can I help you?”

I looked at the reception desk, where a young woman stood smiling at me. I had no idea what to say. I may have grunted.

“Hutton?”

When I heard my name, I spun around and saw Felicity’s sister Winnie standing there.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Can I talk to you?” I strode toward her. “Please?”

She looked nervous. “Um, okay. Let’s go to my office.”

I followed her into an office off the lobby. “Thanks,” I said as she sat down behind her desk. “I appreciate this.”

“Of course.” She gestured to the chairs across from her. “Please have a seat.”

But I was too worked up to sit. “I need your help,” I blurted.

“Okay.” Her fingers kneaded together. Two lines appeared between her brows.

“I’m looking for Felicity. Do you know where she might be?”

“Do I know where she might be?” she repeated.

“Yes.”

“Um.” She looked off to one side. “I can’t say.”

“Winnie, please. I need to talk to her. It’s important.”

A high-pitched whimper escaped her, and she began to rock back and forth. “But I promised.”

“Okay. Okay.” I sat down in one of the chairs. “I know she probably told you not to say anything to anyone. But did she specifically mention me?”

“No,” she admitted, still not meeting my eyes. “But she said not to tell anyone. And I can’t let her down.”

“I understand.” I took a breath. “But this is sort of an emergency.”

She looked at me. “Are you okay?”

“Yes and no. I will be if I can talk to Felicity. There’s something I have to tell her.”

Winnie continued to rock back and forth, murmuring to herself. “I can keep a secret. I can keep a secret.”

“I’ll give you a billion dollars.” I was only half-kidding.

She reached over to her tape dispenser, ripped off a piece and put it over her mouth.

I blinked at her. “Is that necessary?”

She nodded, ripped off two more pieces and taped her mouth shut.

“Okay.” I held up my hands. “I get it. You don’t want to betray her, and I appreciate that. But...” I closed my eyes and exhaled. “I’ve never been in love before, and I’m not handling it very well.”

She made a little squeak of surprise, or maybe sympathy. Her blue eyes were bright.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m scared every word out of my mouth will be wrong. I’m scared she won’t believe me when I tell her how much she means to me. I’m scared that I blew my chance to be with the only girl who has ever made me feel like I’m okay.”

Winnie squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. Then she peeled off the tape. “You didn’t. You can win her back. But maybe it should be something more than words.”

“Like what? Tell me,” I begged. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

She thought for a moment. “You know, Felicity has always been a little different from Millie and me,” Winnie said. “Smarter and quieter and not into the same kinds of things we were. She was never overly obsessed with clothes or makeup or boys. When we played Cinderella as kids, I was the princess, Millie was the fairy godmother or the evil stepmother, depending on her mood, and you know what Felicity always wanted to be?”

“What?”

“Merlin the wizard.”

It made me smile, despite everything.

“We’d be like, ‘There’s no wizard in this story! Can’t you be the prince?’ And she’d be all, ‘No! The prince sucks! What does he do to deserve her, ask her to dance? Kiss her? He never knows a thing about her, not even her name!’”

“I mean, she’s not wrong,” I said.

“So she put Merlin the wizard into Cinderella. And somehow, in the end, it was always Merlin’s magic that really saved the day.” Winnie laughed. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, Felicity doesn’t need a prince. She doesn’t need to be rescued. But...” She shrugged. “Every girl wants to feel like a princess sometimes.”

“I understand.” I paused. “No, I don’t.”

Winnie laughed gently. “You know her, Hutton. I think you can figure this out.”

Something came to me. “Can you get a message to her?”

Winnie nodded.

“Do you have a piece of paper I could use? And a pen?”

She took a sheet of paper from her printer and slid it across the desk for me along with a pen.

Using our code, I wrote the only words I knew she couldn’t ignore. I need you. Please be there for me. Then I folded the paper and handed it to Winnie. “You’re a good sister.”

She smiled. “Thank you. My family is everything to me.”

Outside, I took a few deep breaths and turned my face to the sky, praying for inspiration to strike me. Why hadn’t I watched more romantic movies in my life? There were never any big romantic gestures in science fiction. A jet went by overhead, leaving a white trail against the bright blue.

That’s when it hit me.