Chapter 9
NINE
CASPER
Hattie’s phone pings with a message, vibrating on the bed between us. She barely lifts her head from my shoulder when she grabs it, sighing as Stella’s name appears on the screen.
“What now?” Hattie murmurs, clicking the message. My heart lurches in my chest, nerves burning through me. I’m not really sure why, other than it being Stella.
The message Stella sent is brief, but it still makes my stomach sink.
STELLA:
dinner at Dad’s house. Bring Casper.
Hattie turns the phone off without responding, shifting in my arms as she does.
“Great.” I glance at her from the corner of my eye, finding her stare on me.
“I can tell them no. We could order something from the diner and just…spend the night together instead,” she offers, fluttering her lashes at me.
I can’t help but shake my head in response. “I have a feeling that won’t go over well with her or your mom,” I reply honestly, tightening my arm around her. “If we want this to work, then maybe we should go. Get it over with.”
Hattie frowns and moves to sit up. “What’s wrong?” she asks, putting distance between us. Shadows play in her eyes as a wave of guilt crashes through me.
I sit up with a sigh. “Nothing,” I tell her, scraping a hand through my hair.
My heart is still pounding with the feeling that something is going to go wrong and I don’t know how to stop it.
I love Hattie too damned much to fuck this up, and after the day we’ve had, I don’t want anything to jeopardise us.
And yet, her family might just do that.
“Something is very obviously wrong,” she starts, moving to her knees beside me and leaning closer.
I can already tell she’s trying to get a read on whether I’m lying to her or not, and I honestly don’t know if I am.
“You told me you wanted me to stay for you—for us. That has to mean you want something real, Casper. Which means communication. You can’t expect me to give up my entire life to stay here if you won’t open up to me. ”
I swallow hard. I know she’s right. Hattie is always right, and maybe that used to infuriate me when we were kids. But now, I know I have to listen to her.
Sighing, I sit back and scrub a hand down my face. “It’s just a feeling I have. Part of me thinks Stella messaging you is an indication that something bad is going to happen. The other part of me thinks we should go to show a united front and really show your family how serious I am about you.”
Hattie’s eyes soften as she sits back. “How serious you are about me?”
“Yeah, shortcake,” I reply, voice thick with emotion. “I’m serious about what I said. And I mean everything that I’ve done. I’m not letting you go again, and our deal is still on. I told you: I’m a man of action. And that means showing your family I one hundred percent am with you.”
A smile curls her lips, cheeks darkening to a deep red. “Okay,” she says, nodding her head once. “I’ll text Stella back. Tell her we’ll be there.”
I match her smile with one of my own, despite the feeling not disappearing.
Tonight will likely change everything. Either I’ll be able to convince Hattie to stay, or she’ll decide the deal isn’t worth it—that I’m not worth it.
And I’m scared I’m not ready for that.
There’s something about this that feels like the calm before a storm, when the dark clouds start rolling in and the air turns quiet before the first bolt of lightning crosses the sky and the thunder crashes above your head.
It’s that moment before the rain comes, when the air is sticky with the heat of lightning, the smell of rain heavy on the wind.
The house Hattie grew up in sits dark against the evening. I pull the truck into a spot in front of the house and put it in park, sitting back, heart pounding. Maybe coming here wasn’t the best idea. But I want to show her family just how serious I am.
I want to show Hattie that I’m capable of protecting her against them if the time came.
“We’re a team,” Hattie says, her hand covering mine on the steering wheel. “Right?”
I can’t help but smile, some of the nerves getting pushed away. “Yeah,” I reply, looking to her with all the love I have for her. Love that hasn’t dimmed in the ten years we’ve been apart. “A team.”
The smile that forms on her lips has my heart skipping a beat. “Then let’s show them that.”
I refuse to give her family—Stella, in particular—the power to tear us apart. Not again.
Especially not when I finally have Hattie again.
When we get out of the truck, a strong, chilling wind blows over the residential street. It picks up the long, black strands of Hattie’s hair, whipping it around her face while she holds a hand out to me.
I rush to her side and entwine our fingers as the front door opens. Standing in the doorway surrounded by Hattie’s family is Stella. She has on the tightest dress possible, blonde hair perfectly blown out. Either side of her stands their parents, and behind them, almost hidden, is Brad.
Thank fuck. That man might be a good buffer. I doubt Stella will do or say anything that might put her engagement in jeopardy.
That has me blowing out a relieved breath and tugging Hattie into my side. She looks up at me without hesitation, without fear in her green eyes, and maybe for the first time since getting that text from Stella, I can meet her stare with a similar look.
The family greets us with strain and tension, though Brad is the only one to offer me his hand. “Good to see you again,” he says, shaking my hand, gaze darting to Hattie. “Both of you.”
I clear my throat, wrapping an arm around Hattie as her stepfather closes the door behind us. “Good to see you, too,” I reply.
Hattie just gives him an awkward smile. It’s unfortunate that he seems so…genuine.
I hope this family doesn’t completely screw him over.
There’s tension between everyone as we walk into the family room.
A fire burns in the fireplace, a giant photo hanging over the mantle of Hattie’s mom, her husband, Stella, and Hattie.
The first three stand close together with giant smiles, while Hattie is pushed off to the side, her smile small—tight.
Something about seeing it has my heart clenching with anger, but my girl pats my hand, forcing me to meet her stare. Without saying a word, she gives me a look that conveys to me I should leave it alone.
I really don’t want to, but for her, I do.
“Dinner is almost ready!” Hattie’s mom declares, clapping her hands as she guides us into the adjoining dining room. The long table is set with a roast, all the sides, and a bottle of wine.
“Everything looks great, Mom,” Hattie says, offering her mother a stiff smile.
“Come give me a hand,” is all that woman says in response before turning on her heel and walking into the kitchen.
Hattie and I share a dumbfounded look. But Hattie doesn’t say anything, just pulls out of my embrace—or at least tries to. “You don’t have to go help,” I tell her through gritted teeth. “You aren’t her slave.”
“No, but I’m not going to make her serve them on her own. Look—” She points at her stepfather who has already taken his seat at the head of the table, at Stella and Brad who are moving to their chairs, “—they won’t do it. And I’m not an asshole.”
I sigh. “Let me help.”
She gives me a smile that’s a hell of a lot warmer than the ones she’s been giving her family. It eases some of the irritation rising within me.
Together, we make our way into the kitchen where a bowl of potato mash, some fresh bread, and a casserole sits on the counter. When we enter, Hattie’s mother is getting a pitcher of ice water from the refrigerator.
“Oh, Casper, you don’t need to help. I’m sure Hattie has it,” she says, voice sweet but annoyed.
I shake my head, grab the potatoes and bread, and say, “If she has to help, then so will I. Even if we are guests.”
That has her cheeks turning red. Hattie makes a sound in the back of her throat as she goes to get the casserole, eyes wide when they meet mine.
But she doesn’t chide me, as much as I can tell she wants to.
The dining room is silent when we re-enter with the rest of the food. Stella’s eyes narrow on me, filled with a familiar irritation I came to know all too well in the six weeks we were together. Brad has the audacity to at least look a little uncomfortable. And Mr Gibson…
He just doesn’t care, though that shouldn’t surprise me at all.
When we’re all finally seated and the food starts getting passed around, the tension seems to thicken. I take anything handed to Hattie and fill both our plates, much to her amusement—and Stella’s annoyance.
“So,” Mr Gibson says, breaking the awkward silence. “Has Stella told you about her plans for the wedding venue yet?”
I almost roll my eyes, but Hattie sets her fork down. “No, she hasn’t.”
There’s a smug little smile on Stella’s face as she shrugs. “Well, I was thinking, since you won’t be the photographer, maybe you could help pitch in,” she says, cocking her head. “As a wedding gift.”
Both Hattie and I stiffen, and even Brad looks a little uncomfortable. “Uh…”
“I was hoping we could get a family discount for the venue,” Stella continues, fluttering her lashes at me, “but it doesn’t seem like Foster wants to budge.”
I drop my fork and sit back. “That’s because you aren’t family,” I tell her, smile stiff.
“But we used to be so close, Casper. Come on.” She pouts, leaning forward. “Don’t you remember?”
Unfortunately, I did. Six horrible weeks. Six weeks that stole my best friend away from me all because I’d wanted to protect her from the woman sitting across from us.
They were six weeks of hell. Of failure.
“We were never close,” I tell Stella, voice firm. Under the table, I take Hattie’s hand. “Unless you count coercion as close.”
That has the table exploding; Stella’s father snaps at me, Hattie’s mother gasps, and even Brad turns to Stella with wide eyes. But I don’t care about any of their reactions. I turn to Hattie, who is watching me with tears shining in her eyes.
“What?” she asks, but I shake my head.
“Not here,” I mutter, tossing my napkin on the table. “Thanks for dinner, but we’re leaving. You don’t get to disrespect Hattie like that. Not anymore. And definitely not in front of me.”
Hattie’s mother makes an annoyed sound in the back of her throat. “Harriet Simms—”
We stand, hand in hand, but Hattie just shakes her head.
“No. I’m done with you. All of you.” Hattie looks around the room, tears brimming her eyes.
This is hurt I can’t take away from her, I realise sadly.
It’s something I can’t heal. “Good luck with your wedding to Brad and the eventual divorce. But take this as my RSVP of no.”
With that, she turns, our hands still clasped and starts for the door. Part of me wants to leave them with a piece of my mind, but it won’t matter. Hattie has said everything she needs to. And that’s all I care about.
She’s all I care about.