Chapter 8
EIGHT
L andyn
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter, fighting the urge to throw my hair into a messy bun and call it a day.
From across the room, mom laughs softly as she buttons up P’s jacket. “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” she says, smoothing a hand over Poppy’s hair, which she’d somehow managed to tame into two neat braids. A feat I’ve never quite mastered.
“I look like someone who’s trying too hard,” I say, twisting a loose curl around my finger and frowning.
“Trying isn’t a bad thing,” Mom says, a knowing look flashing in her eyes. “Especially when the right person notices.”
I roll my eyes, but my stomach tightens all the same. Part of me wants Ford to notice me. The other part is scared he’ll notice too much.
“I’m not getting ready for anyone,” I say, a little too quickly. “It’s just work.”
“Of course,” she says, smiling in that way only moms can, like she already knows all the things I haven’t said out loud.
Poppy skips over to me, her pink sneakers squeaking on the hardwood. “Mommy, you look like a princess!” she says, wide-eyed.
I kneel down to her level, feeling something tender break open in my chest. “Not even close, baby,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just trying to look like I belong.”
“You always belong,” Poppy says with the confidence of a 6-year-old.
I press a kiss to her forehead, breathing her in. She is my entire life. The reason I have to believe that coming home won’t turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life. The reason I’ll fight to make this work, no matter how complicated it gets.
“You’re going to be late. Don’t worry about us, we’ll be just fine.” My mom hands me my black clutch from the dresser. “You go knock ’em dead.”
“And if I don’t?” I ask, smoothing the skirt of my simple black dress.
“Then at least you’ll look good,” she says with a wink.
I laugh, feeling a little lighter as I grab my jacket and keys. Poppy hugs my legs fiercely, and I promise I’ll be back before she wakes up the next morning.
But as I head for the door, that gnawing knot in my stomach twists tighter. Because it isn’t just the gala or the town or the company that scares me .
It is the man waiting inside all of it. The man who still has the power to undo me without even trying.
The drive into Deep Cove feels different, like the town knows tonight is something special.
I turn onto Front Street and have to ease off the gas.
The entire street is glowing under strings of lights, crisscrossing over the road like a net made of stars.
Shops that just two days ago were a little dusty and dim are now gleaming, their windows polished and full of carefully crafted displays.
It is beautiful. And it reminds me that Cove’s influence is everywhere.
People in floor-length dresses and pressed suits wander the sidewalks , their laughter spilling into the air, mingling with the muted sound of a string quartet playing somewhere up ahead.
This isn’t the town I’d left. It has matured in the years I’ve been away, and somehow, I still feel like I don’t belong.
I find the designated parking lot tucked behind the event hall and pull in, my palms a little sweaty on the steering wheel.
For a second, I just sit here, staring out at the glowing lights ahead, my heart thundering behind my ribcage.
I could turn the car around. Head back to my little house, climb into bed next to Poppy, and pretend none of this ever happened.
No one would blame me.
Except maybe Ford.
My stomach twists.
I press my forehead lightly against the steering wheel and close my eyes, breathing deeply. As much as I would like to turn and run, I know I need to stand on my own two feet, no matter how hard it is.
Squaring my shoulders, I grab my clutch from the passenger seat, check my reflection in the rearview mirror—yep, still visibly terrified—and climb out of the car.
The night air is cool against my skin, lifting the hem of my dress as I cross the parking lot.
Ahead, the event hall glows like something out of a dream, the front steps lined with lights, a red carpet rolled out like a movie release party.
Cameras flash at the entrance, catching the shimmer of dresses, the easy smiles of people who know they belong.
Ford’s name is everywhere tonight. The Winters brothers have turned Cove into something bigger than this town could ever have imagined.
And here I am, walking into the world he’s built, like I have any right to be part of it.
I clutch my bag tighter and repeat the same lie I’ve been telling myself for days: I am here to do my job, to smile, and represent Cove, and most importantly, begin to repair the company’s tarnished name.
That’s all I have to do. That and pretend Ford Winters doesn’t still have the power to crack me wide open with a single look.
Easy.
The lie is almost convincing…until I take my first step onto the red carpet and feel the ground shift beneath me.
Like somehow, he already knows I am here.