Chapter Fifteen #2
Gently, I said, "You’re making excuses."
"I know," Mrs. W snapped at me, her dark eyes skewering me for my impertinence. "I know they’re excuses and that doesn’t make it any easier to put them aside."
She wasn’t wrong about that. Still… "And you’re not old. Stop saying that. You’re what? Late forties? That’s nothing."
"I’m fifty-five," she corrected primly, reminding me of Vivi when she was annoyed. No one did icy disdain quite like my baby sister, but Mrs. W could give her a run for her money.
"Fifty-five is still young. Age is another excuse."
"I don’t feel fifty-five," she confessed. "I feel ancient."
"And how does Abel make you feel?" I pressed.
That blush hit her cheeks once more, accompanied by a tiny, secret smile. "Like I’m twenty again. Like I’m a young, foolish girl with a crush."
"I know the feeling," I said, thinking of the way my heart jumped in my chest when I saw Annabelle.
Straightening, she busied herself clearing the counter. "I shouldn't be talking about this with you."
"It’s okay, I’m not part of the family."
Her hands fell still and she dropped the tin of shortbread to the counter with a clatter. "Is that what you think? That you aren’t part of this family? Is that why you keep running off to Annabelle’s?"
I examined the toes of my running shoes, unable to meet her eyes. A lump in my throat kept me silent, and I shrugged one shoulder like a guilty child.
“Chase," she said in a soft voice, "You may have been lost for all these years, but you belong here."
"I’m not a Winters."
"No, but you’re Anna’s. And she missed you every day. She did what she thought was right, but that didn’t mean she didn’t wonder what might have been. And she’d be overjoyed to know you’re here. That you’re with your family. Finally. Don’t ever say you don't belong here."
I said the only thing I could. "Yes, ma’am."
"That’s better."
I was done talking about my complicated connection to the Winters family. I wanted to talk about Annabelle.
"Annabelle's afraid of change, too. Her husband hurt her so badly she thinks she’s better off alone. I don't know how to change her mind."
"How do you know you should?" Mrs. W asked, a shrewd look in her eye. "What do you want from her? "
"I don't want anything from her, I want her," I said simply. "I want to be with her. Want to be a part of her life. She keeps pulling me closer, then warning me off. She says we can be friends, but no more."
Raising an eyebrow Mrs. W said tartly, "Have you considered the possibility that she doesn't like you?"
"I did," I said with a laugh before popping the rest of the shortbread in my mouth and chewing.
"But I know she likes me. She feeds me dinner all the time, and she won't let me pay.
She lets me help her clean up when she closes.
A few nights ago, her ex was bothering her and she pretended I was her boyfriend.
She let me give her a hug. Would she do all of that if she didn't like me? "
Mrs. W took a sip of coffee, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. Setting the mug on the counter with a decisive click she said, "No, she wouldn't. "
"She said it's not me, that she doesn't want to go out with anyone. Is it like that with you and Abel? Or is it him? If someone else asked you out, would you feel differently?"
"No. No, absolutely not." Her response was so immediate, so visceral, I knew she was telling the truth.
"And if you could marry anyone would it be him?"
She stared blindly out the kitchen window and nodded slowly. "We’ve been dancing around this for over a year."
"Anyone who can tell Aiden Winters what to do and make him listen can face a challenge head-on,” I said quietly. “Good things don't always come when we’re ready for them.”
I put my coffee mug in the sink and turned to go. Her voice stopped me.
"Her husband was not a nice man," Mrs. W said with such heat I was sure she was calling him much worse in her head.
"They used to come over for dinner all the time.
At first, I thought I was reading him wrong.
They were so in love and he treated her like fine china.
But later, he was awful. I always thought it was that promotion he got after they were married.
Suddenly, he wanted a wife like the other executives.
Someone who would stay home and take care of him.
Someone who would follow his lead and set aside her own dreams."
"Asshole," I murmured under my breath.
A thin smile stretched across Mrs. W’s face.
"Yes. He was. He started tearing her down all the time. Nothing was good enough. She wasn’t good enough.
She started to fade away. The boys wanted to do something, try to catch him cheating, anything to get him away from her.
But Annabelle took her vows seriously and they were afraid if they interfered she’d cut them out of her life. "
"Was it bad the whole time?" I asked.
"Mostly the last year. I was so relieved when she found him in that hotel room and filed for divorce, I cried."
As if what I’d said earlier had just filtered through, her gaze sharpened, and she said, "What was he doing in the café? Is he bothering her?"
I shifted uncomfortably. Mrs. W loved Annabelle, but still… "I told her I wouldn’t tell anyone."
"She wants to handle him herself." I nodded.
"That girl," Mrs. W muttered, shaking her head at the counter as she wiped it clean.
"He’s not going to bother her," I promised.
"Don’t give up on her," Mrs. W said fiercely. "He did a number on her, twisted her head all around, but if you care for her, don’t give up. Annabelle is worth waiting for."
"I know she is."
Mrs. W nodded, dismissing me. Before I left, I said, "Don’t give up on yourself. The best things in life are always scary. Doesn’t mean they’re not worth the risk."
Mrs. W said nothing, only frowned down at the counter, scrubbing at an invisible spot and avoiding my eyes.
I headed down the hall for a shower. It was out of the way, but maybe I’d stop in at Annabelle’s place for breakfast. I needed to see her face, needed a shot of her smile, before I started my day.
Mrs. W didn’t need to tell me not to give up. I wasn’t planning on it. Annabelle needed me, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it.