Chapter 31 Winnie
WINNIE
“Maybe I do need to get the authorities involved,” I worry aloud.
“He was in your bedroom?” Carolina is appalled.
“My laundry room. Temporary bedroom.” My hands tangle in my hair. “Ugh. Why is my life so complicated? I just want a quiet, drama-free life where I can watch comfort shows and eat potato salad in bed.”
“Look on the bright side. At least you will never have a midlife crisis because your entire life is a crisis. You need to do something nice for Fitz since he saved you,” Carolina tells me.
“Nice like what?” I feel cross.
“Idk, titty pic?”
“Ew.”
“You sent one to a random stranger online. You know Fitz. He took you and your family on very nice dates. He literally did a Mr. Darcy save-your-life.”
“That never happened in Pride and Prejudice.”
“Why are you so anti-Fitz? He’s, like, the perfect man.”
“Eh.”
“Okay, like eighty-seven percent, but that rounds up to one hundred percent.”
“Don’t you think it’s suspicious that he was even at my house?” I demand.
“Really?” Carolina raises an eyebrow. “You think that’s weird?”
I nod, uncertain.
“The girl who literally had sex in a dirty alleyway with a violent stalker who threatened to kill her dog—you think that Fitz standing forlorn and melancholy on the sidewalk was a bridge too far?”
“Fine,” I huff.
“That man has the patience of a saint, and I’m upgrading him to ninety-three percent.” Carolina presses her hands together.
“I’ll take him some pastries.”
After I make the onion-leek-and-potato flaky popovers I had been planning for tomorrow, I pack the coolest ones in a box, along with savory lobster cream puffs and spicy-mustard ham-and-Swiss croissants.
For sweet, I have gooey caramel-peach cinnamon rolls, tart lemon bars, and a cookie dough twist.
I also add an oversized coffee.
“Okay,” I say, tying a black-and-white-checkered ribbon around the large box. “I’m heading over to the Driftwood Sports Syndicate Entertainment Group offices. I assume he’ll be there.”
“You don’t want to text him?” Carolina looks up from restocking the pastry case.
“I actually don’t have his number,” I admit.
“Well, you can’t go over there like that. You’re not even in your company Crocs.”
I stare down at my feet. “Fine. I’ll go change.”
“Don’t eat these!” I holler as soon as I get home.
Fidget is dancing around on her hind legs.
I stick the box on top of the fridge because she can and will untie the ribbon.
My parents are in the kitchen cooking.
“Winnie, I’m making a roast fish for dinner.” Dad clangs dishes. “You put it in a salt casing with some new spring potatoes.”
“We found them growing in this garden,” Mom says from under a large hat. “Can you believe it?”
“Sounds delicious. Thanks, guys, but I’m not here long.”
“Out on a date?”
“Er, no, just dropping off a delivery.”
“Winnie, your neighbor Mrs. Manchego has a nephew who—”
“No, thanks, Mom. I’ve seen the kinds of yard signs she has in her yard. And stop trying to be friends with my neighbors—they’re all insane.”
“She’s a very nice lady.”
“Shelby?” I call. “Shelby, I need to grab some clothes out of here.”
I knock on my bedroom door and wait. I knock again then ease it open.
Blessedly alone.
Or not.
I don’t notice him at first until I’m opening the closet to get some clothes to change into.
Knox is sitting on my stool, my dirty panties pressed against his face, huffing in deep, long breaths.
“What the fuck!” I yell at him and snatch the panties off his face.
He just laughs and grabs my wrist, twisting it in his grasp.
“Damn, I forgot how good you smelled.”
“You don’t remember anything. High school was a long time ago.” I tug away.
“You think I was going to forget that night at the Olympics?” He has me pressed against the back of the door. “You really turned into something special, Winnie.”
“Get off of me.” I struggle against him.
“I want a taste of the real thing.” I feel his hand slide across the front of my pants. “Bet you’re nice and juicy for me.”
“Nope. Dry as your gross-smelling mouth.”
“Yeah, I like that. You were always a better fuck than your sister. The sex is always better with you.”
I kick him in the shins.
“Fuck, you’re feisty.” He just laughs as I rush out of the closet.
“We belong together. Don’t pretend like I wasn’t your first love.” He follows me.
“You cheated on my sister, and your pregnant affair partner is living in my house, and you’re hitting on me.”
“You’re never going to find a man better than me, Winnie. Look at you. You’re pathetic.” He sneers. “I’m the only man who will ever find you attractive.”
I think about Fitz.
Is that true?
“You say the word, and your sister and Brinley are dead to me,” he offers.
“What about your baby?”
“We’ll raise it together. We can’t have you pregnant—that would jeopardize that lucrative business you have.” He reaches out to encircle my waist.
“Why are you in my room?” his mother screeches, storming in.
I need better boundaries. “I just need a change of clothes,” I call, shoving Knox away.
“You better not have a date,” he spits.
“So what if I do?”
“Mom!” he complains.
“She doesn’t have a date, sweetie. I mean, look at her. What man is going to date her?” Shelby pets her son.
“Nothing like being insulted in your own house that you own.”
“You own all of it?” Knox asks.
“Free and clear. No mortgage.” Blindly, I grab some jeans and a burgundy V-neck sweater.
The doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it.”
“Gran, no!” I race downstairs. “Fidget probably ordered DoorDash. I told you to stop plugging those Alexas back in.”
I’m greeted by a walking bouquet of flowers in my living room.
Knox is immediately furious. “Who sent those? Who gave those to you?”
Gran peers around the bouquet. “Obviously someone with more disposable income than you. I saw that pathetic excuse for a grocery store bouquet you gave your baby mama.”
Gran slaps his hand when he reaches for the card.
“Did you see that?” the Pittsburgh troll screeches. “Did you see her hit my baby?”
“Ooh, Winnie, look at this!” Kathy marvels, traipsing in with a stack of white boxes tied up with a big ribbon. “Fitz sent you pressies! It’s like Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” She sets them on the coffee table next to the flowers.
“Can I open it?” Kathy begs like we’re kids and she wants to open my birthday presents.
“Sure, whatever. Go for it.” I should be annoyed, but Kathy’s always so amazed when she opens a present, like she’s still my little chubby-cheeked baby sister.
Brinley creeps up next to Knox to watch.
“Ooh, this is Catalina Boutique.”
The girls squeal at the dress.
The all-black dress is structured, one shoulder. Just from the material of the fabric and the way it’s draped and the way it’s pieced together—I’m not a fashion expert, but it looks expensive.
“Shoes!” Kathy breathes. “Oh my gosh, look at that peep toe.”
“So cute!”
“The bow! I love the bow. Are those Swarovski crystals?” they marvel. Brinley leans in closer to admire the gift.
“And fur.” Brinley almost reaches out to stroke the cape. “Oh my gosh, Fitz must really love you,” she says to me, breathless.
“And he sent diamonds.” The jewelry glitters as Kathy admires the necklace. “Oh, this is so romantic.”
“Yeah, he’s definitely in love with you.” Brinley nods firmly.
“Material goods are not a true definition of love, especially not for a man with money,” I lecture. “That’s them treating you like a dumb child they can pay off. It’s the equivalent of Fitz buying me a Happy Meal.”
“Knox never gave me presents,” Kathy says softly. “And we dated for fifteen years.”
Brinley looks alarmed.
Knox is fuming.
“Is that dress even going to fit?” Shelby frowns.
“Winnie’s boyfriend has an eye for detail,” Kathy says gently, laying the dress on the couch.
“Even if it doesn’t fit, we’ll make it fit,” Mom says firmly. “Winnie, go shower. You smell like pastry cream.”
“No, don’t shower. A man likes a woman’s natural scent,” Gran demands.
“What does the card say?” my mom asks, holding out her hand.
“Ooh, it’s handwritten,” my dad says, impressed. “That’s impeccable penmanship. Fountain pen.”
I read the card upside down.
We’re going to date number 3.5 since last night was impromptu and didn’t seem like you had that much fun.
Wear this.
Pick you up at 8.
Tell your parents you won’t be back until morning.
“Well.” My mom clears her throat and hands me the note.
“Ooh!” Kathy jumps up and down, clapping her hands. “It’s like Pretty Woman, except the porno version.”
Knox is unhappy, so the Pittsburgh troll is unhappy.
“You’re going to let your daughter stay out all night with some man?” Shelby demands.
Gran waves her hands. “He’s not some man—he’s rich!”