Chapter Sixteen
She walked aimlessly, Carrie’s wool pea coat wrapped around her, while fat, thick flakes of snow fell onto her hair. Streetlights cast puddles of light, turning the snowfall into magic, but she didn’t notice. Her canvas shoes grew damp, but she didn’t notice that, either.
Her thoughts were in knots, her emotions a tangle. She didn’t know what to do with any of it, so she just walked, the cold biting at her face and sucking the breath from her lungs, until she didn’t feel like screaming anymore. And then she walked some more.
When she finally stopped to look around she was in the center of old downtown, quaint and quirky shops and restaurants tucked away in the brick buildings and the old gas lamps, long converted to electric, giving the street an old world charm.
A coffee shop beckoned, its brightly lit window promising warmth and comfort, but she’d walked out of the pub without any money.
So she found a bench, brushed the snow off the seat, and sat to contemplate her life.
Maybe Bailey was right and she just wasn’t cut out for no-strings affairs, because she’d certainly made a mess of this one.
She’d thought she could keep her emotional boundaries clear—it should have been easy, because, hey, married men.
But they’d gotten so blurred so fast, she couldn’t even pinpoint when they’d fallen apart.
And now here she was, half in love with both men, possibly about to lose her job and her family, with no idea what to do about any of it.
And she was so mad—at Mo for being a dick, at herself for falling in love with two men and causing the whole mess to begin with. At Jesse and Knox for being loveable. And at that foolish, foolish birthday wish.
“Dopey birthday wish,” she said out loud and tipped her face up to the sky.
It was really starting to snow, she realized, blinking away the flakes that fell on her lashes.
She was going to have to go back soon. Her feet were wet, the shoes she had on no match for the weather, and snow fell into the collar of the too-big coat no matter how tightly she wrapped herself in it.
She imagined her phone was going wild with missed calls and messages, but she’d left it behind in the apron, so she’d worry about that later.
She sighed, watching her breath puff out in the cold air, then blinked when someone said, “Chloe?”
Resigned, she dropped her head, prepared to face the music. Then blinked. “Sawyer?”
“I thought that was you,” Sawyer said, his peridot eyes twinkling with his smile. He had a knit cap over his dark hair nearly the same color as his eyes. “What are you doing sitting out here in the snow?”
“Oh, just contemplating the wreck of my life,” she said cheerfully. “You?”
“Ah…I’m headed in for some hot chocolate,” he replied, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the coffee shop. He eyed her warily. “You okay?”
“No,” she said frankly. “My life is a wreck.”
“Okay,” he said, still wary. “Anything I can do?”
“Do you have a time machine?” So I can travel back to my birthday and not make that dopey wish.
“Sorry, no.”
“Then no. But thanks. I like your hat.”
“Ah, thanks.” He hesitated for a moment, like he was weighing the wisdom of his next words. “Maybe you should come inside. You look pretty cold.”
“Actually, the cold is giving me clarity,” she told him, then shivered when more snow drifted down the neck of the coat. “And possibly hypothermia.”
“Hey.” A woman with a riot of red curls tumbling out of a black knit hat walked up to Sawyer and poked him in the side. “I thought you were getting hot chocolate.”
“I got distracted,” Sawyer explained while Chloe eyed the newcomer with interest. She was short, gorgeous, enormously pregnant, and at Sawyer’s words, turned avid eyes on Chloe.
“So I see.” Full lips curved into a curious smile. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Freezing, thanks for asking,” Chloe said, and tried not to think about how the woman’s dark eyes reminded her of Jesse’s.
“You’re welcome.” The redhead turned back to Sawyer. “She drunk?”
“I didn’t ask,” Sawyer said.
“You drunk?” the redhead asked Chloe.
“No, but I kind of wish I was,” Chloe admitted. “Maybe my life wouldn’t look like such a disaster if I was drunk.”
“This is Chloe,” Sawyer put in. “Chloe, this is my wife Lou.”
“Nice to meet you,” Chloe said politely and held out a hand, only feeling a little awkward about meeting the wife of the man she’d almost hired to fuck her.
Lou took it. “Knox and Jesse’s Chloe?”
Chloe hitched in a breath. “Not anymore.”
“Uh-oh. What’d they do?”
“Nothing.”
Lou snorted. “I doubt that.”
“No, it was me, I did it. I did it all. Wrecked it all.”
Lou looked at Sawyer. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”
“No clue.”
“Uh-huh. Okay, sugar, first things first. You need to get warm. How about some hot chocolate?”
Chloe sighed. “That sounds nice, but I forgot to bring my wallet.”
“Our treat.” Lou tugged on Chloe’s hand. “Give me a hand here, babe.”
Sawyer reached down for Chloe’s other hand. “You want whipped cream or marshmallows on your hot chocolate?”
Chloe allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. “Both.”
“I like her,” Lou decided and in what was somehow a sexy waddle, led the way to the café. “Hurry up, I have to pee.”
“Your wife is nice,” Chloe told Sawyer.
“She is.” Sawyer reached the café door a step behind Lou and reached over her head to pull it open. “She’s also a ball buster.”
“I heard that,” Lou said, making a beeline for the restroom.
“I know you did, love,” Sawyer said, and the affection in his voice made Chloe want to cry all over again.
The air inside the café felt like a sauna after so long outside, and Chloe began undoing the buttons on the oversized coat. But her fingers felt stiff and numb, and she couldn’t quite manage it.
“Here, let me.” Sawyer brushed her hands aside and quickly dispatched them, drawing the coat over her shoulders and hanging it on the rack on the wall. “You want to grab a seat, and I’ll get your drink?”
“Okay.” She looked around and spotted an empty table by the front window. “Over there?”
Sawyer nodded and turned for the counter. “Back in a minute.”
Chloe walked to the table, her socks squishing in her shoes, and took the bench seat along the window.
There was a napkin dispenser on the table, so she grabbed a couple to swipe at the melted snow in her hair.
They were wholly inadequate for the job, and her hair was still shower-wet when she was done, but at least it wasn’t dripping down her neck anymore.
Wadding up the soaked napkins, she set them aside and looked up. Lou was walking toward the table, her coat and hat gone, belly leading the way draped in a deep green sweater that made her skin glow and her hair shine like copper.
She pulled out a chair, eased herself into it belly-up the way pregnant women did, and smiled. “I like your earrings.”
Chloe let out a half laugh. These damn earrings. “Thanks.”
“Where’d you get ’em?”
“I made them.”
Lou’s dark brown eyes went sharp, and she leaned forward as much as her belly would allow. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Chloe glanced up with a grateful smile as Sawyer approached, three steaming mugs cradled in his hands. He set them down, slid one in front of her and one in front of Lou. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Be careful, it’s hot.”
“Did you get me peppermint?” Lou asked.
Sawyer pulled out the chair next to his wife. “Yes.”
“You’re the best,” Lou enthused, picking up her mug.
“I know.” Sawyer lifted his cup, gestured to Chloe. “You want to talk about it?”
She wrapped her hands around the mug, savoring the heat that seeped into her chilled hands. “Not really.”
“God, that’s good.” Licking whipped cream off her lip, Lou looked at Chloe. “Why not?”
Chloe shrugged, watching the whipped cream in her mug melt into the chocolate. “What’s the point?”
“Maybe we can help,” Sawyer said, then added gently, “It can’t be that bad.”
“Oh,” Chloe said with feeling, “it can.”
“We’ve known Knox and Jesse a long time,” Lou chimed in. “They’re occasionally clueless and often morons, but they’re not assholes.”
Sawyer aimed a look at his wife. “I’m not sure that’s helpful, love.”
“Like she doesn’t already know,” Lou said and slurped her hot chocolate.
“They haven’t been clueless or morons,” Chloe said, annoyed that this ridiculously beautiful woman would be talking shit about her men. “They’ve been kind and generous and patient and loving and I don’t think I like your tone.”
Silence settled over the table, tension humming while Lou stared at her over the rim of her mug, whipped cream smeared on her upper lip and her eyes narrowed in what seemed like a dangerous manner, but Chloe didn’t care.
Her feet were cold and wet and her heart was broken, and that was enough shit for one day and she wasn’t putting up with any more.
“Well,” Lou finally said, setting down her mug. “I guess you told me.”
Beside her, Sawyer let out a careful breath. “You’re in love with them.”
“Yes,” Chloe said, and saying it out loud was both a desperate relief and a crushing ache. “Yes, I am. Welcome to my fucked-up life.”
“Um.” Lou raised her hand like a kid in class. “Why is your life fucked up, exactly?”
“Because it’s hopeless, that’s why,” Chloe said and chugged her hot chocolate like it was whiskey.
Lou and Sawyer exchanged a look. “Because they don’t love you?” Lou ventured.
“Yeah, that’s not it,” Sawyer muttered.
Chloe swallowed the chunk of marshmallow she’d sucked up in the last gulp and shook her head. “I don’t know how they feel.”
“You didn’t ask?”
Chloe looked at Lou in disbelief. “Would you ask?”
“Yes.”
“She would,” Sawyer confirmed. “Ball buster, remember?”
“Well, I’m not that brave,” Chloe claimed. “And anyway, I didn’t get the chance.”
“What happened?”
She looked at Sawyer. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“Wherever you like.”