Chapter 65
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
LOLA
Playing house.
The words hit me like a fist to the stomach.
I stare at his back. The broad shoulders. The tension pulling his muscles taut. The way his hands are gripping the windowsill.
And all I can hear is my mother’s voice. You’re not serious about this, Lola. You never are. This is just another one of your little experiments. When are you going to stop playing pretend and come home?
My father. My mother. Every boyfriend they handpicked. Every meeting where they spoke over me. Every decision they made about my life without asking what I wanted.
And now Hunter. Standing at that window, telling me the same thing in different words. That I’m not real. That this isn’t real. That I’m just a girl playing dress-up on a ranch until the novelty wears off. That I clearly am not capable of making my own decisions.
“Playing house?” I repeat.
My voice comes out quiet. It’s almost scary.
He turns from the window. And I can see it on his face, the instant regret. The way his eyes widen, and his jaw loosens, and he takes a half-step toward me. “Lola, I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.” I cut him off, and the steadiness of my own voice surprises me.
“You meant every word. You think this is a game to me. You think I’m here because it’s fun or exciting or because I get off on the danger of dating a cowboy with a criminal record.
And then at the first sight of something interesting back home, what?
You think I’m just going to run off and date some guy that I never wanted when I lived there? Can you hear yourself, Hunter?”
“That’s not what I—”
“I love you, Hunter. And I would never question you like that.” My voice cracks, but I refuse to cry.
Not now. “I trust you. I married you in a courthouse after knowing you for weeks because I believed you when you said I was your soulmate. I fought to see you when you were in jail. I-I thought this was my home. Not that I was pretending.”
I press my hand against my chest because it hurts.
“And you’re standing there telling me I’m playing house?
That this is a phase?” I shake my head. “You sound exactly like my parents, Hunter. Exactly like them. And I didn’t leave New York to be told what I’m feeling by another person who thinks they know me better than I know myself.
Just because your ex couldn’t just fuck one man, doesn’t mean we all behave like that. ”
He opens his mouth.
“Don’t.” I hold up my hand. “Don’t say another word.”
I look down at my left hand. The engagement ring. The wedding band. His mother’s diamond catches the morning light.
My hands are shaking as I pull them off. I am furious. But worse, I’m hurt.
One ring. Then the other.
The sound they make when I set them on the nightstand is small and louder than anything either of us has shouted.
Hunter’s face drains of color. “Lola. Don’t. Please.”
I shake my head. “Did that hurt?” I snap.
“Please don’t take them off and leave me, firefly,” he says, his voice full of regret.
“I love you, Lola. I’m sorry.”
He takes another step forward, and I take one back, holding up my hand. “You can keep your private jet,” I say, shoving on a dress I snatch from the chair. “And your opinions about my life choices.”
I shove my feet into sneakers and grab the bag I packed last night from the corner of the room.
“Lola, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I am just playing house.” I sling the bag over my shoulder. I don’t mean it. But I’m furious. Maybe slightly triggered. Just like he is.
He’s worried about the other men there. And I’m worried that I’ll go away for one night and come back to an empty bed because my husband is either in jail or dead.
“Guess you’ll find out when I either come back, or I don’t.”
The hurt on his face almost breaks me. Almost.
I stop by the door and take a deep breath. No matter what, I still love this man. And for Wyatt’s sake, too, I can’t walk out of here like this. “Hunter, I’m asking you to do one thing for me now.”
He nods.
“Just let me have some breathing space. I’ll get a flight by myself.
My own arrangements to my apartment. Don’t call me.
I’ll text you when I land. Just maybe take some time to cool off and think about what’s happening here.
Because, if you cannot trust me, if you really think you don’t deserve me, then perhaps we need to have a conversation later. ”
He runs his hands through his hair, a ragged sigh falling out of him. “If that’s what you need, baby.”
I nod. “It is.”
He glances at the rings on the bedside table and almost flinches.
“I’m still your wife, Hunter.” But I’ve spent my whole life bending for people who don’t trust me. I refuse to do it for one more.
“I know. I’m sorry, Lola. I’m sorry I said that. Let me take you to the airport?”
I almost say yes. But I just need to leave. I don’t want to keep arguing with him. I don’t want either of us to say anything worse than we already have. “No. Just go back to bed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m going to say goodbye to Wyatt,” I tell him. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”
“I love you.” Is all he replies.
I walk out of the bedroom, close the door behind me, and head straight into the hallway. My legs are shaking. My chest is tight. The tears are right there, pressing against my eyes, but I will not cry.
I stop outside Wyatt’s room. His door is cracked open. The blue nightlight is still on. I can hear him stirring under the covers, that half-asleep shuffle he does before his brain decides whether to wake up or roll over.
I push the door open gently.
He blinks up at me from his pillow. “Lola?”
My heart shatters. I cross the room and kneel beside his bed. Setting my bag down on the floor. Take his tiny hand in mine.
“Hey, bud,” I whisper. “I’m heading to New York today, remember? To see my dad for his birthday.”
He nods sleepily. Then his face crumples. “You’re coming back though, right?”
And there it is. The question that guts me more than anything Hunter said in that bedroom. Because this little boy has already had one woman leave and not come back. And now I’m walking out of his door with a bag over my shoulder.
I made a promise to him. And to Hunter.
I press my forehead against his. “I promise you, Wyatt. I am coming back. Okay? I will always come back to you.”
His bottom lip wobbles. “Always?”
“Always.” I squeeze his hand. “You’re stuck with me, kid. Me, you, Gary, and the whole zoo of animals out there. I’m not going anywhere.”
He half smiles. Then reaches up and wraps his arms around my neck, pulling me into a hug so tight that it takes the air out of my lungs. “I love you, Lola,” he whispers into my hair.
The tears come. I can’t stop them. They spill down my cheeks and soak into his pajama shirt, and I hold him tighter because if I let go, I’m not sure I can walk out of this house.
“I love you, too, Wyatt. So much.”
I pull back and wipe my face with the back of my hand and press a kiss to his forehead. “When I get back, I think we should ask your dad if we can all go horse riding together. Does that sound good?”
He grins. “Yes!”
“Go back to sleep, bud. I’ll be home before you know it.”
He nods and rolls over, pulling the blanket up to his chin. His dog lifts its head, looks at me, then settles back down.
I stand. Pick up my bag and walk out of his room, and pull the door gently shut.
And then I press my back against the hallway wall and let out a silent sob.
Because that little boy just said he loves me.
And his father just made me feel like I don’t belong.
Even if he didn’t mean it. The words still cut deeper than I imagined they ever would.
I wipe my face. Straighten my spine and take a breath to recompose.
As I head downstairs, Beau is in the kitchen. Leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee, still in last night’s clothes, his longer hair pushed back. He looks like he hasn’t slept.
He takes one look at me, and his expression doesn’t change. Not even slightly.
“Can you give me a lift to the airport?” I ask.
I’ve not even checked the flights to New York, but there are bound to be some today.
And the chances of Violet being awake are zero.
So, Beau is my best option. Perhaps… on the drive, I might get him to actually like me.
Maybe a sliver more. Nothing dramatic because I don’t think I’ll ever win this guy over.
He studies me for a beat and sets down his mug. “Yeah.” He grabs his keys off the counter. “Let’s go.”
He doesn’t ask what happened. Doesn’t ask where Hunter is. Doesn’t offer comfort or pry or do any of the things a normal person would do when a woman with puffy eyes and no wedding rings asks for a ride at five in the morning.
He just walks past me and opens the front door.
I follow him out into the dawn. The porch light is still on. The ranch is quiet.
I don’t look back at the house. If I do, I won’t leave.
And right now, I need to. This space is necessary.
But I could never leave it. Hunter just needs to learn a little bit about me.
If anything, I’m stubborn. And I will do things to prove a point.