Chapter 30
Chapter
Thirty
LITTLE WHITE LIES
Shaw
“Coward is the man who doesn’t fight for love. Love is worth every scar.” – S
I t’s been raining for three days straight, making it impossible to get much done around the ranch. I manage to care for the cattle and horses with Ella’s help, but I have to put off repairing some of the stables and fences until the ground dries.
It’s as if the sky mirrors my mood—dark, cold, and sad.
Since yesterday’s call with Ella’s father, I haven’t been able to think straight. My mind keeps circling around the thought of losing her. Fuck, pretending to be okay when I’m not used to come so naturally, but now it’s killing me inside to put on a fucking smile for her. But I do it regardless.
Losing Ma should have taught me that there are no real “happily ever afters,” yet I still let myself believe in them. Now it’s all coming to an end, and I don’t know what else to do but to let go.
Letting go has never felt so fucking painful.
Because how do I let go of someone who’s become such a vital part of me? How do you move on without your heart?
I’ve done it before, but this time feels different. It feels like I won’t be able to survive it. Survive her.
“Fuck,” I snap, pain spreading through my chest at the thought of Ella walking out of my life.
A soft whimper makes me pause. Glancing down, I see Poppy at my feet, her curious eyes fixed on me. “Looks like I’m losing her, rug rat,” I say with a heavy sigh, my voice rough and laced with sadness.
The baby goat nuzzles my feet, as if trying to comfort me. Damn it, even the goat seems to worm her way into my heart.
I bend down and gently pet her head, careful not to mess up her bow. “You’re not so bad.”
“Baaa.”
I chuckle as she turns and walks away, clearly done with me.
I grab a towel from the bed after finishing my shower, and dry my hair while descending the stairs in sweatpants and a snug shirt. By the time I reach the bottom, the enticing aroma of food from the kitchen makes my stomach grumble. My heart tightens at the thought of Ella cooking for me.
Since she’s been here, I’ve cooked most of our meals since she’s not a very good cook beyond desserts. But I have to admit, she makes one hell of a breakfast.
As I enter the kitchen, my eyes fall upon a heart-shaped arrangement of pizzas on the island, loaded with all types of cheeses and meats. There are slices with chicken, ham, bacon, and pepperoni. Candles flicker gently, casting a soft glow over the room, and a vase filled with fresh tulips sits in the middle. No doubt she picked those herself from the fields like last time.
“What’s this?” I grumble as I step further into the kitchen.
Ella looks up from where she sits at the table, beaming with happiness at the sight of me. Fuck, she’s so beautiful—so fucking sweet.
I take in her appearance, marveling at how stunning she looks. She wears one of the dresses I got for her when I took her shopping—the lavender one that hugs her waist perfectly and makes her look like royalty from another era. Her curls are loose, pushed back from her face with a matching lavender bow. With subtle makeup, just a hint of mascara and gloss on her lips, she looks both pretty and tempting.
So, her.
“I saw these heart-shaped pizzas online earlier and thought you might enjoy them,” she says cheerfully. “I figured they’d be harder to make, but it turned out they weren’t at all. Come sit!”
She made heart-shaped pizzas just for me.
Thud.
My masochist heart beats painfully in my chest as I see her smile at me with stars and hearts in her lovely eyes.
I approach her with a faint smile that hurts like fuck, trying to push aside the hurt caused by her father’s words. Taking a seat across from her, I grab the pizza cutter and slice through the heart-shaped pizzas. “You didn’t have to do this,” I say, looking up from the ham pizza.
Ella rolls her eyes playfully. “You need to stop saying that because I won’t stop doing things to make you smile. Get used to it—you’re stuck with me,” she murmurs, her voice tender.
I nod and swallow the hurt her words cause. If she only knew our time together has an expiration date. “Thank you, cupcake.”
“You’re most welcome, Shaw Bear,” she replies with a wink. She then begins adding her favorite toppings to the pizza. I watch her silently, not touching my pizza, trying to let the warmth in her eyes chase away the pain I feel. But the pain lingers, only momentarily eased.
“You don’t like it,” she says suddenly, breaking through the chaos inside my mind.
She sounds sad, and it only makes things worse.
“Ella,” I whisper, placing my hand over hers. “There’s nothing you do that I don’t like.”
She smiles at me—a brilliant smile that lights up her face. “Liar. I know you hated the spaghetti and meatballs I made yesterday,” she teases.
I do my best to keep a straight face. She tries her hardest, but I don’t know how someone can mess up pasta so badly. My lovely heiress manages to.
The meatballs are dry and undercooked, yet I eat them as if they were made by a five-star Michelin chef.
“You’ll get better with practice,” I assure her.
We finish preparing the pizzas in comfortable silence, with the rain outside still pouring. I can feel Ella’s gaze on me as I sit quietly, waiting for the pizzas to finish cooking.
When the pizzas are done, we sit back down at the table to eat.
Ella studies me closely, her concern evident in the furrow of her brow. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks gently, her voice sounding worried.
I glance up and meet her eyes briefly before looking away. She always seems to sense when something is wrong just by looking into my eyes. I’m a fucking coward. “I’m fine, darlin’,” I say, trying to sound reassuring.
A moment of silence stretches between us before she speaks again. “You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”
I’ve never lied to her. Not once.
Here I am, about to lie to the woman I love, all for her sake. As much as it fucking hurts me to let her go, I know she’s young and deserves all the world has to offer—things I can’t give. The life she’s accustomed to or the life she deserves. My life is here.
I force a smile and look into those blue eyes that make me fall deeper every day. “I would tell you if something was wrong. Stop worrying.”
Coward.
Liar. Fool. I’m all of that and more.
“Okay,” she nods, choosing to drop the subject for now. Instead, she tries to lighten the mood. “I made ‘tres leches’ cake. Do you want some?” She quickly gets up, grabs a red container, and returns to place the cake in the center of the table. “It’s my third favorite dessert.”
I glance at the soaked sponge cake and then at her. “Looks like a lot of sugar,” I grumble, making her laugh.
“Oh, come on. Try it,” she urges, cutting a slice of the cake and serving it to me.
If she had handed me something terrible with mustard on it, I’d eat it gladly if it made her smile.
Biting into the soggy cake, I let the blend of sugar, milk, and a flavor I can’t quite place dance on my taste buds. I groan in satisfaction. “It’s good,” I say between bites.
“See, I told you!” she claps happily, bouncing with excitement. “It’s also Dad’s favorite.”
The mention of her makes my heart sink and shifts my mood. I’m just thankful she doesn’t notice my reaction.
Not wanting to give the asshole another thought, I manage a wide smile for her. “You did great, baby.” I take another bite of the delicious cake. “And the heart-shaped pizzas are cute and delicious, too.”
She chuckles softly, clearly relieved that I enjoy the food she so sweetly prepared. “I thought you might like it,” she says, offering me another slice of pizza.
As we continue to eat, I can’t help but save every smile and every sweet gesture she makes, knowing I’ll need these memories when she’s no longer by my side. When she leaves my life, taking with her the light and color she brought, my world will slowly fade to black.