CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
BELLA
I sat across from Deanna Martine in her sleek West Palm Beach office on Dixie Avenue, the morning sun filtering through the blinds and casting stripes across the glass table between us.
Deanna, a fashion designer with a knack for sourcing wholesale fabrics from Brazil, spread out vibrant swatches of silk and cotton, her fingers brushing over them with reverence.
The faint jasmine of her perfume hung in the air, mingling with the hum of the air conditioner.
“These are from a cooperative in Bahia,” she said, pushing a swatch of turquoise silk my way.
“Light as a feather, but tough enough for everyday wear. Perfect for scarves. And this”—she lifted a bolt of coral cotton with a subtle geometric weave— “would make killer sarongs. Natural dyes, great texture, holds up in this humidity.”
I ran my fingers over the silk, picturing it knotted loosely around a neck or draped over a shoulder. The colors popped, bold but elegant, exactly what I needed for my collection. “These are stunning, Deanna.”
“We can source this easily.”
“What’s the lead time for, say, two hundred pieces to start? Half scarves, half sarongs.”
She leaned back, tapping a pen against her lips.
I was glad I’d reached out to her about going into business together, and thrilled she’d taken this meeting.
Now, this brainstorming session was heading in a promising direction.
“For that order, twelve weeks, maybe ten if we push. My supplier’s solid, but customs can be tricky.
I’ll get you a quote by tomorrow morning. ”
“Perfect.” I scribbled a note in my planner, already sketching designs and a business plan in my head. “Let’s move forward with these two fabrics. I’ll confirm quantities after I run some numbers tonight.”
Deanna’s smile was sharp and confident. “These are going to fly off the shelves. I can see all the women on the island wearing them in no time.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Her eyes softened. “You know, I’m really excited to work with you on this. Your vision’s fresh, and I can already tell this is going to be something special. These pieces just needed an advocate like you.”
“Thank you.”
“Plus, I’ve got to say, I always loved your dad. He was such a character, and he always had a story to tell with a way of making everyone feel like they mattered. I see a lot of his spark in you.”
I smiled, a bittersweet warmth spreading in my chest at the mention of Dad. “Thanks, Deanna. That means a lot.”
We shook hands, and I gathered my bag, a buzz of excitement mixed with nostalgia as I pushed open the glass door and stepped onto Dixie Avenue.
The Florida sunlight hit me like a wall, thick and sticky, the rays glaring off the pavement.
I slipped on my sunglasses and crossed the street to my car, unlocking it with a chirp.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I cranked the AC, letting the cool air wash over me as I pulled out and headed toward the car wash a few blocks away.
Finally, my future is starting to look bright. And very respectable.
I’d just pulled out of the car wash when my phone rang, Lois’s name lighting up the screen on the small shelf underneath my dashboard. I accepted the call as I navigated the car into oncoming traffic.
“I hope you’re well,” Lois said on the other end of the line. I thought I heard something clipped in her voice. “Would you be able to come into the office in a little bit?”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
I glanced at the clock beneath the steering wheel. Strange he’s still getting his assistant to call me instead of doing it himself. “Sure. I can be there in about a half hour.”
“Wonderful. I’ll let Cade know.”
“Great.” I hesitated. “Any idea what this is about?”
“Cade didn’t elaborate with me. Just said he’d like to see you as soon as he can.”
My thoughts flipped and turned. Again, there was something almost cold about the way she spoke to me.
Lois had never given me the impression that she was a warm person, but her voice on the phone was almost clinical.
It was as if she was completely detached from this conversation and wanted to get it over and done with as soon as she could.
“Um, okay,” I said. If he wants to be businesslike, so will I. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Lois hung up, and I drove back to my apartment. I could barely concentrate as I drove the familiar streets into my neighborhood. My stomach pulled and tightened as I drew closer to my place. What in the world could this be about?
I changed out of my yoga pants and into a button-down shift dress and a pair of tan sling-backs. Unless he just wanted to see me and thought he had to be professional about it. That sounded like the romantic man I’d spent an amazing time in Park City with.
When I arrived, sure Cade had pulled a prank, I was terribly disappointed when I saw him.
Cade’s expression was... like stone when Lois showed me into his office.
He stood when I arrived, but my stomach lurched when he kept the desk between us instead of crossing the room to hug or kiss me.
We’re together, right? We went to Park City. Aren’t I his girlfriend?
Maybe not...
He hadn’t told me so, and we hadn’t discussed the topic. But maybe I’d misread it all, maybe that was the way he acted with all the women he dated. He was a full fifteen years older, and that was more than enough of a gulf between us.
I probably need to understand that.
I sat in the chair across from his desk. “How has today been so far?”
It was a stupid way to open this conversation, but again, I was grasping for ways to figure out what was going on.
Cade waited until Lois closed his office door before he replied. “It’s been an interesting morning.”
“I can imagine.” My reply was thick in my mouth.
He cleared his throat as he drew closer to his desk. “You know, Bella, I work with some of the most talented people in South Florida. I’m lucky to have all of them on my staff.”
I nodded but didn’t speak. It was probably best to let him talk.
“They’ve put their lives on the line for me. Come in on Saturdays. Made connections on my behalf. Done all the heavy lifting required to ensure that we stay ahead of the game in Palm Beach County.”
“I know they have.”
Cade pursed his lips. “So, whenever one of them comes to me with information they say they’ve spent days or weeks putting together, I always give them the benefit of the doubt. I always make sure they know they’re heard and appreciated.”
I cocked my head. “Do you mind telling me what this is about?”
Cade paused for one more moment, then said, “Do you want to tell me about the emails?”
I frowned. “What?”
“The emails, Bella.” His voice was quiet, but there was a hint of something dark and dangerous in every syllable he spoke. “Now is your chance to tell me the truth.”
“Emails?” I shook my head in disbelief a few times. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“Think. Think hard.”
I did. “I’m still not sure what you mean.”
He sighed. “I have it all right here. My team gave it to me this morning. Whatever you think you’re hiding, it isn’t working.”
I stared at him. “I didn’t write any emails, Cade.”
He blew out a mass of air. “It’s all in there. Every message, every email, every thought, every plan.”
I gaped at him, still stunned.
“You were a plant.”
“A what?”
“Since we reconnected, sabotaging the Promenade has been your only goal. The worst part is you almost got away with it.”
Sabotage? A plant? “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I should have expected this.” He laughed without humor. “I mean, look at what you did for a living. You sold yourself on FanZone.”
The bitterness and cruelty were too much to ignore, too much to dismiss. And the problem was much more than his words. The problem was the way he said it as if he wanted to burn me.
I stood. “That was out of line. That was unfair.”
“From where I sit, it’s very fair.”
“No.” I shook my head, the motion frantic, desperate, as if I could shake away the words he’d hurled at me. My heartbeat thundered in my chest, a wild, erratic drumbeat that made my ribs ache. “If you think I’m a whore, just say it.”
“I think I already have.”
Cade’s voice was ice, each syllable a shard that pierced deeper than I thought possible.
This wasn’t the man I’d known, or thought I’d known.
The Cade I’d laughed with, confided in, whose warmth had once felt like home, was gone.
Disappeared. In his place stood a stranger with eyes so cold and detached that they seemed to strip me bare, leaving me exposed. Raw. And brokenhearted.
“If that’s what you think of me,” I said, my voice cracking under the weight of the hurt, “that breaks my heart.” The words felt like they were torn from my chest, each one laced with a grief so sharp that it burned behind my eyes, threatening to spill over.
My hands trembled at my sides, fingers curling into fists to keep from reaching for him, for the ghost of who he used to be.
“You’ve made me more than angry,” he shot back, his tone flat, unyielding, like a blade slicing through the last threads of hope I’d clung to. “You’ve gutted me.”
The air between us felt thick, suffocating, as if it carried the weight of his accusation and my shattering heart.
My throat tightened, a sob clawing its way up, but I swallowed it down, the effort leaving a bitter ache in its wake.
Every memory of us crumbled like ash in my mind.
The pain was a living thing, coiling around my chest, squeezing until I could barely breathe.
How can he look at me and see something so ugly?
How can someone I’m falling in love with reduce me to this?
We stared at each other, and I knew by his expression that no matter what I said next, Cade had already made up his mind. There was nothing I could say or do.
Nothing I want to do. Not with him. Not like this.
“I’m leaving,” I said.
He flinched, but the rest of his expression remained rigid and unwavering. “Goodbye.”
I walked out of the room without saying anything else.
And I barely made it to my car before the first tears fell.