Chapter 13
Thirteen
Tabitha
Henry’s avoiding my gaze.
It seems so obvious, but Angie and Marjorie are chatting away like nothing weird is going on.
I want Angie to be happy. She’s going to be married tomorrow, for goodness’ sake.
And I want Henry to be happy.
What happened between us was amazing. It was also strange.
Then he left me in the barn.
I didn’t come here with any expectations. Angie told me Henry was having trouble coping with the fact that he had taken someone’s life. She said he was getting better, working full days again, joking around again.
Apparently I have a bad effect on him.
Because now he seems as sullen as ever.
He finishes his frittata quickly without saying so much as a word and then refills his coffee cup.
“Henry?” Marjorie says.
“I told you. I’m going to the office. There are a few things that need to be done.
” Then he looks at Angie. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back sometime in the early afternoon, probably around one or two.
If Jason needs anything, I’ll be here. I’m the best man, after all.
” Then he gives a smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Okay,” Angie says. “Thanks.”
“Not a problem.” Henry leaves the kitchen.
“How come you’re up so early?” Angie asks me.
“I’ve always been an early riser,” I say.
“You’re not an early riser until you grow up on a ranch,” she says. “Right, Mom?”
“True enough,” Marjorie agrees. “But we let Angie sleep in every now and then. After all, it’s not every week that a woman gets married to a high-profile surgeon.”
Angie takes a sip of her coffee. “When we were kids, my dad and uncles made us get up at like five o’clock every day. We all learned to work the ranch. Even though my dad wasn’t born a rancher.”
“But your mom sure was.” Marjorie laughs.
“Dave is the only one of us who still does ranch work on the daily,” Angie says. “He helps run the orchards with Uncle Talon and my cousin Brianna. Henry works for the foundation, and Sage works with my dad. He’s the chief financial officer.”
I simply nod and take another sip of coffee. I know all this, of course. Angie gave me the lowdown on her family a while ago.
“Well,” Marjorie says, rising. “I should get ready. We’ll be leaving for town in what? About an hour and a half?”
“Yeah,” Angie says. “Sage better have her butt back here by then.”
Marjorie smiles warmly. “Your maid of honor won’t disappoint you.”
“Just in case, though…” Angie fiddles with her phone. “If there was ever a workaholic among us, it’s Sage. She was over the moon when Dave decided he’d rather work with Uncle Talon in the orchard than be Dad’s right-hand man working with the finances. Sage loves it.”
Marjorie laughs. “She does. She’s well suited for it too. She’s got a head for numbers, like your father.”
Angie’s phone buzzes with a text. She scans the screen. “Good. They’re already on their way back.”
Marjorie raises her eyebrows. “Your father too?”
“Sounds like it.”
“Maybe we should invite him to the bridesmaids’ luncheon,” Marjorie says.
“Mom,” Angie says. “No men allowed.”
Marjorie laughs. “As you say. You’re the bride.” She gets to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, girls. I need to go make myself beautiful. The mother of the bride has to look her best.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman around, Mom. Still.” Angie smiles.
High praise indeed. Especially since Angie looks exactly like her mother.
Once Marjorie is gone and Anya has left the kitchen after cleaning up, Angie looks at me, her eyes dancing. “Everything okay last night? With Henry showing you around?”
I should’ve known Angie would pounce on that. “Yeah, fine. I met all the horses. They’re gorgeous.”
Her eyes brighten. “Did you see my Penelope?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “She’s beautiful. They all are.”
“And how did…” She bites her lip. “How did Henry seem?”
There’s a loaded question if there ever was one. “He seemed good.”
She narrows her gaze. “Now look me in the eye and say that.”
Shit. Wasn’t I looking her in the eye?
I meet her gaze. Look into her dark eyes. “He seemed fine.”
“Good.” She sits back in her chair. “I’ve been so worried about him. Now that Uncle Joe is responding to treatment and everything, we’ve been able to take some load off our minds. But then Henry went and…”
She doesn’t finish the sentence.
It’s hard for any of us to say.
Henry killed Ralph Normandy. Or Ronny Burgundy. The two were one and the same. The ex of Jason’s first wife, who, it turns out, didn’t kill herself after all.
Ralph killed her.
Of course, that’s all conjecture based on the evidence that we have, and we’ll never know for sure because Ralph is dead.
Good freaking riddance.
“You’re already dressed, and you look gorgeous,” she says.
I crinkle my eyes. “I figured I’d put a dress on for the luncheon.”
“Are you kidding? You look perfect just as you are.” She scratches her chin. “In fact, I think I’ll wear a denim miniskirt too. Knowing Sage, she’ll wear the same.”
“So it’s just the bridesmaids?”
“Yeah. I thought about inviting my other female cousins—Diana and Ava. But it was just too many.”
“You don’t know what it means to me that you asked me to be a bridesmaid,” I say. “Especially since you have a twin sister, three cousins your same age, and a sister-in-law.”
She drops her jaw. “Are you kidding? I couldn’t leave you out. Besides, this is a Steel wedding. The sky is the limit. I could’ve had a hundred bridesmaids if I wanted to.”
Angie’s not one to flaunt her riches, but every once in a while it comes out. At least it has since the wedding plans have started. So she wants the wedding of her dreams. She should have it. After all, her parents can certainly afford it.
For a hot minute, an image pops into my head.
It’s the wedding of my dreams.
And I’m standing next to Angie’s brother.
Our hands clasped together.
Quickly I erase the picture from my head.
Clearly that will never happen, I’m not even sure I want it to. Last night was great, of course. But it was also a little bit…
I don’t want to say forced, because I’m pretty sure I could’ve stopped him at any time.
The two orgasms were amazing, probably the best I’ve ever had. And I’ve never had more than one. Not ever.
But still… It was—
“I’m going to go get ready,” Angie says. “You need anything?”
I blink. “No, I’ll be fine.”
“Feel free to do whatever you’d like. You can hang out in your guest room or on the deck. Walk over to see the horses again if you want, though I guess I don’t recommend that because you could get dirty.”
No dirtier than I got last night with Henry…
My God, he’s living rent-free in my mind now.
I shake my head, mostly to shake the thoughts loose. “I’ll probably just relax.”
“We have a great library if you want to read something.”
I widen my eyes. “Actually, that sounds pretty good. It’s been so long since I’ve read anything besides a medical school textbook.”
She grins. “Well, we’ve got all the classics, plus… I mean, a lot of books on ranching and accounting. Boring as crap.”
I laugh lightly. “Classics sound pretty good.”
“Perfect. You know where the library is. A few doors down from your room.”
I nod. “I’ll check it out.”
After Angie leaves, I walk toward my guest room, pass it, and enter the library.
The library’s quiet in that comforting way, as if the world’s been muffled just enough to let me think without drowning in it. The overhead lights hum softly, and the air smells like paper and leather. I look through the collection of classics.
I run my fingers along the spines. Austen. Bronte. Hardy. Dickens. Melville.
And then I see it.
Persuasion.
It’s thinner than I expect. Tucked between Pride and Prejudice and something I’ve never heard of. I slide it off the shelf and flip it open without thinking.
The first few lines don’t mean much. But then I hit a passage—something about silence and time and second chances—and I just stand there, frozen.
Anne Elliot. The woman who let him go. Who tried to move on, to be proper and composed while her heart was quietly breaking.
She loved him. And he disappeared.
And now I’m holding a book that feels too familiar.
Because I was fine with Henry being a fling. At least, I told myself I was. But I wasn’t. Not really. Not when he looked at me like I meant something. Not when his touch said more than his words ever did.
Until we were done and he left me naked in the barn.
Sure, he came back for me, but only because he knew I couldn’t get back to the house without him.
And now?
Nothing.
Just silence.
I hug the book to my chest and close my eyes.
This is ridiculous.
I’m not the first woman to fall for someone who couldn’t be bothered to stay. But somehow, this story—two hundred years old—feels like it’s speaking directly to me.
Maybe I’m Anne. Maybe I’m not.
But I take the book with me anyway.
I sink into a worn leather armchair in the corner of the library, Persuasion open on my lap. Captain Wentworth’s letter sits there in front of me like a punch to the chest.
You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.
God.
I read it again. And again. And something tightens behind my ribs.
Because it’s beautiful. It’s raw and desperate and full of all the things people are too afraid to say until it’s almost too late.
But this isn’t me.
I don’t have some tragic love story with Henry. I had a fuck in a barn during a rainstorm, the result of lightning and too much tequila.
But he kissed me like he meant it. He touched me like I mattered.
Then he vanished.
Not vanished, exactly. He’s still here. Still on this ranch. Still walking around like nothing happened. Still nodding politely in my direction like I’m some distant acquaintance, not the woman who moaned his name last night.
And now I’m sitting here, clutching a two-hundred-year-old love letter like some pathetic spinster hoping a man will come back and tell me he can’t live without me.
I huff, snap the book closed, and shove it back on the shelf with more force than necessary.
“Get a grip,” I mutter under my breath.
I’m not Anne Elliot. I’m not some tragic heroine nursing a decades-long heartbreak.
I barely know Henry Simpson.
I’m not in love. I’m not.
I just wish he’d looked at me this morning.
Just once.