Chapter 29
LENA
“Ithought you’d stopped ordering work deliveries to the house,” Cole said, carrying in a package from the porch. He passed it to Tess where we sat at the kitchen table, rolling out cookie dough for our planned junk-food-and-movie marathon later.
“I have,” she said. “Everything’s going to the salon now.” Tess caught my eye, amused. “The cattle kept trying to eat the cardboard boxes, getting my aesthetician supplies all slimy.”
“Sounds like something Bonnie would do,” I said, the smile sliding right off my face as I realized what I’d said.
The corner of Tess’s mouth twitched in sympathy as she accepted the package from Cole. She glanced over it, frowning. “Honey,” she handed it over to me, “this is for Lena.”
“Me?” Who the hell was sending me packages to Tess’s place?
“Couldn’t tell,” Cole admitted, leaning against the back of her chair. “Looks like one of the calves might have stomped on it.”
“Why are there cattle on the porch?” Tess complained.
“There are cattle everywhere.” He bent over and pecked her on the top of the head. “You fell in love with a rancher, remember?”
“But they’re supposed to be contained. We talked about this.”
“Yes, but sometimes the little ones slip out,” he teased.
I couldn’t help thinking about Bonnie again, the way she infiltrated Lochbrae, and a miserable ache swelled in the pit of my stomach.
The way Tess and Cole stared at each other was also nauseatingly adorable.
I wanted to excuse myself to wallow in my room, but as my eyes finally caught on the smudge of handwriting that remained beneath a muddy hoof print, my breath caught in my throat.
Oh, God.
It was Weston’s horrible handwriting. The same handwriting I’d teased him about that day in the dining room at Lochbrae, when we’d been going through the old festival paperwork.
I’d somehow ended up pinned against the wall, breathing him in.
The memory was so strong I swore I could smell that intoxicating cologne he always wore.
Tess finally looked over. “What is it?”
“It’s from Weston,” I murmured, unsure of what to do next. My hand trembled as I laid the package on the table.
“You’re kidding!” Tess said. “How the hell did he even know you were in Montana?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Social media, maybe.”
“And he found our home address how?” Cole wondered, rubbing his jaw.
I huffed a humorless laugh. That was the least of my concerns. “It was probably on some paperwork from when he organized the bachelorette weekend. Or, I don’t know, maybe he hired a PI. The man has obscene amounts of money. If he wanted to find someone, it wouldn’t exactly be hard.”
“Creepy,” Tess said. Cole grunted in agreement. “Open it!”
“No,” I said, shoving the package aside. Tess shoved it back toward me. “I don’t want whatever’s in there.”
“How can you know if you want it unless you see what it is?”
“Because I don’t want anything from him,” I insisted, that same fire stirring inside me that I’d felt on the steps of the courthouse.
This was supposed to be my clean break, which admittedly wasn’t so clean of a break with how my stomach continued to gurgle and flump since I’d boarded the plane for the last time from Scotland.
How the hell was I supposed to move on if packages from Weston started following me around?
“Maybe we should defer to Lena on this one, huh?” Cole said, nuzzling the top of Tess’s head. “I know you’re nosy—”
“I am nosy!” Tess agreed, her entire face lighting up with excitement. “I want to know what that man could have possibly sent all this way.”
“Maybe it’s the divorce paperwork,” I said, but even I could hear that I sounded uncertain.
Frankly, it seemed too soon for that. We’d just smoothed everything over with the court in Braeburn.
Jumping the gun to initiate the divorce too quickly might cause more problems with the terms of the will.
The last thing we needed was Jasper rearing his ugly head again.
But maybe Weston was confident that we could now go our separate ways physically and legally.
“Mmm, I don’t think so,” Tess said. “Wouldn’t that come directly from a lawyer’s office? This looks like it’s directly from Weston.”
I sighed, staring down at the bubbled envelope. “I have to open it, don’t I?”
“I really think you do,” Tess agreed.
Cole shook his head, staring at her fondly before moving to pour himself a glass of water at the counter. “You don’t have to be peer pressured, Lena.”
“I’m not peer pressuring her,” Tess argued. “I’m supporting her in desensitization therapy.” Tess’s gaze flitted back in my direction. “All jokes aside, if you want to toss it on the burn pile out back and light it up instead, I’ll also support that.”
“I know you would,” I said, pushing the envelope in her direction. “Why don’t you open it and tell me how prepared I need to be.”
Tess tried to contain her glee as she tore open the package, taking a look at what was inside. “It’s…” Her eyebrows twitched, then her expression shifted into confusion. “It’s a key.” She pulled it out of the package, handing it to me.
The metal key was cold against my palm. It was on a plain gold key ring. What the hell was this for?
“Oh, wait!” Tess said. “There’s also a note.” As she pulled it out, a plane ticket fell onto the table.
“A ticket to New Orleans?” I said, staring at it.
“First class,” Tess said, whistling as she unfolded the letter. “I can’t read this. How is his writing worse than a doctor’s?”
“Let me see,” I said, curiosity getting the better of me. I took the note from Tess, scanning Weston’s handwriting. “Dear Lena,” I read. “I hope this package finds you well.”
Tess snorted. “You think he knows how many times I’ve had to stop you from eating raw cookie dough? You’re not well.”
I hushed her. “Inside you’ll find a first-class ticket to New Orleans—I know you’ve always wanted to visit. As well as the keys to the executive suite Kincaid Energy keeps downtown.”
Tess’s eyebrows hit her hairline. She leaned across the table. “Executive suite! Is that gonna be anything like the place in Paris?” I shot her a look. “Okay, okay, keep reading.”
“The suite is yours for the next few months,” I read, “with all the amenities included. Housekeeping will be by to clean and handle your laundry. Groceries can be ordered via the front desk. There’s a gym, a sauna, and a pool.
Basically everything you need to relax. And no, this isn’t part of your paid leave.
Consider it a vacation to make up for all the ones that I never let you take before. ”
I swallowed hard.
Tess leaned back in her chair, drumming her fingers against her lips. “Is that all it says?”
I shook my head. “And to start you off on the right foot, you’ll find a gift certificate for five hundred beignets from Café Du Monde. I’ve been assured that their beignets are legendary.”
“Five hundred?” Tess and Cole cried at the same time. Tess held her hand out for the gift certificate. I passed it over.
“We talking about those little powdered donuts?” Cole asked.
Tess nodded, her eyebrows arched so high it looked like she’d had a facelift. “Okay, the man is really trying to get back in your good books. He knows a beignet is the way to your heart.”
I bit down on the inside of my cheek, remembering that time he took me into the bakery on high street, buying me a powdered donut to make up for the fact they didn’t have beignets.
I could appreciate that he’d been paying attention, and yet, all I could wonder was why he was doing this.
We’d ended things between us. I’d accepted his year of paid leave and his offer—his insistence—on paying for grad school if I got in.
I didn’t want vacations and beignets from him.
I didn’t want to feel like I owed him any more than I already did.
Tears welled in my eyes. Goddamnit, Weston!
“Oh no,” Tess said, laying the gift certificate on the table as I swiped at my cheeks. A few tears had escaped, but they were tears of frustration. Tears of anger. “Don’t cry!” she continued, standing and pulling me close as she squeezed the air out of my lungs. “He’s not worth it.”
“Five hundred beignets,” I said against her shirt.
“That’s the number he thinks fixes things.
” That’s what I was worth to him. I pulled away, blinking back tears, swallowing down the anger that pulsed through me in waves.
“After everything we went through, he’s like ‘here, have some puffy balls of deep-fried dough since you like them so much.’ It’s…
bah!” I rubbed my eyes. “Have I always wanted to go to New Orleans? Yes! Do I want to do it on his dime? No freaking way!”
Tess fist pumped the air. “That’s right. You’re strong and independent and you can buy your own plane tickets!”
“And my own beignets!”
“Hell yes, you can!” Tess said.
“This feels like a good time for me to go back to work,” Cole said, giving us both a wave as he set off for the barn.
I whipped out my phone, looking for Nancy’s number.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Kincaid Energy and telling them to cancel the trip.” Nancy was likely the one who’d arranged it all, so I’d politely tell her to inform Weston that he could stuff his first-class ticket where the sun didn’t shine.
“Hello, you’ve reached the line for Weston Kincaid, how can I direct your—”
“Nancy, it’s Lena,” I said, cutting her off.
“Lena!” Nancy said, clearly excited to hear from me. “How’s leave going? Have you heard back from grad school yet? Ugh, hold that thought. Arnie’s just stepped out of the elevator.” I opened my mouth to respond, but then she said, “I need to deal with him. Patching you through to Weston now.”
“No, wait! Don’t do—” The phone beeped, then clicked, then—
“Hello?”
I recognized that gravel. That timbre. It struck something inside me, making me shiver. I couldn’t talk to Weston! Panicking, I hung up, staring down at my phone and breathing like I’d just run a marathon. I glanced up at Tess.
“What happened?”
“She barely let me get a word in before she put me through to Weston.”
Tess winced. “Ugh.”
My phone started buzzing in my hand. “Oh, shit!” I just barely resisted the urge to chuck the device across the room.
“He’s calling back.” I rejected the call, putting him straight through to voicemail.
Tess was curled up on the edge of her seat, looking stressed.
But there was no chance in hell I was going to answer that.
How awkward and embarrassing! Plus, the last thing I wanted to do was get into another argument with him. I let out a relieved breath when no voicemail popped up. Maybe he’d gotten the message.
But the moment I put my phone down, it buzzed with a text message. My stomach dropped. It was him.
I take it you got my package? he’d written.
I picked my phone up to reply. Yes.
You don’t have to go to New Orleans if you don’t want to. I just thought you’d enjoy it.
Tess hummed as I read it out to her. “What do you even say to that?”
She sounded sympathetic. Maybe even a little torn.
But I wasn’t. In fact, Weston sounding so annoyingly reasonable just made me even more angry, because it felt like he was toying with my emotions.
One second the guy was saying he couldn’t trust me, claiming I was no better than his horrible ex, and the next he was trying to send me on my dream vacation.
He claimed he didn’t know who I really was, but maybe I didn’t know him either.
It was getting impossible to tell who I was dealing with—the grumpy CEO who’d frozen me out or the man who’d called me his wife, genuinely looking like he meant it.
Frustration beat at my temples, but I didn’t know how to put all that into words he’d understand.
The phone buzzed again. I want you to have things in life that you enjoy.
That broke me from my spell. Why?
Because I want you to be happy, Lena.
I scoffed and shook my head. I don’t know why you care so much about the happiness of someone who’s a fraud and a liar.
Speech bubbles appeared and faded several times. Maybe I’d finally stumped him.
I never should have said any of that, he finally responded. And if you’ll answer my call, I’ll tell you all this in person.
Text is fine.
I mean it, Lena. I was out of line. I was angry, I was lashing out. You didn’t deserve that.
You’re right, I agreed. I didn’t.
That’s why I’m trying to make it up to you. To show you how sorry I am for the way I treated you.
Weston, you could buy me every last goddamn beignet on earth, and it wouldn’t make a difference, I wrote.
Some realizations came a little too late.
Because here Weston was, once again assuming he could buy back my forgiveness or my affection or whatever the hell else he was after.
But it wasn’t going to work. Never again was I going to let myself rely on a man who went out of his way not to love too much or too hard or too deeply.
He’d proven that he’d drop me the second I became inconvenient.
I deserved to be loved steadily and fiercely with a love that never faltered.
I deserved someone who wanted every part of me—even the messy, imperfect parts. Especially those.
Weston Kincaid wanted me for a good time.
But I deserved to be wanted for a lifetime.
Lena, he replied. Could we just talk? Please. In person.
As far as I was concerned, there was nothing left to say. Goodbye, Weston, I wrote. And with that last text sent, I blocked him.