CHAPTER THIRTY
Edward
Why the hell hadn’t I told Cara as soon as Sara MacAllister showed up at my house?
I wanted to punch a hole in the wall for the first time in my life.
I had screwed up again. I had wanted to protect her from something that might upset her.
Fuck. I’d had no idea someone was taking pictures.
What was wrong with me that I couldn’t get things right?
I paced around my house for several minutes, debating what I should do first. A plan had started forming in my mind.
I wasn’t going to let this go. I wasn’t just going to let that family win.
And there was no doubt in my mind the Harts were behind all of this.
What did they think? That Cara would go running to Monty as soon as she broke up with me?
Newsflash—she wouldn’t like him whether or not she was with me. Why couldn’t they see that?
I punched a name on my phone.
“Hey, Dec. I need your help.”
“Man, I told you if you hurt her again I’d…”
“Just fucking listen,” I practically shouted. I didn’t have time for this. Cara had clearly already called Declan or Olivia or both.
There was a pause.
“I’m listening,” Declan said more calmly.
“Wixby River Farms has a couple of private planes, right?”
“I mean, we have one. We’re not Lufton.”
“Right. I need it. Tonight. To go to Charleston.”
There was a heavy silence from Declan.
“Dec.”
“Yeah, yeah. I heard you. Why were you kissing Sara? You know this hurts even more because she’s the same girl from six years ago, right?”
I shoved my fingers through my hair as I paced. “I wasn’t kissing her. She kissed me, and the way the photographer was standing made it look mutual. Believe me, it wasn’t. You’re just going to have to trust me. And I’ll send you a video to prove myself to you as soon as I can.”
There was such a long silence, I was about to launch into a speech defending myself. But then he surprised me.
“Okay,” he said, his voice gruff.
“Okay?”
“Okay. But the earliest you can leave is in the morning. Be at the North Wixby airfield by seven in the morning. It’ll be gassed and ready.”
“That fast?”
He blew out a breath. “Yeah. I was going to Asheville to interview a couple of resort owners in the morning. I’ll call in the new flight plan, but it’s ready to go besides that.”
“Thanks. I swear I’ll never forget this.” Dec was quiet enough that I thought he’d hung up without saying goodbye. Then he surprised me.
“So, I have a proposition for you about joining Ashton Orchards with Wixby River Farms.”
Silence hung between us. Dec and I had already started collaborating on a vineyard plan.
I’d thought about trying to join up with Wixby River Farms, too, but this was a hell of a time for a business deal.
I wasn’t even thinking clearly. “What? Are you saying if I say no that I can’t take the plane? ”
“Of course not. I’m not a monster. Just remember how helpful I’m being when you and I sit down to work out a deal after all of this mess is behind us and Cara’s home safe and sound.”
“Gotcha.” I heaved a sigh of relief. I wasn’t thinking clearly enough for business deals. “This will give me time to think about it. But I have to go now. There are a few things I have to get done before I’m ready to fly out.”
“Go get your girl, man. I’m trusting you.”
“I swear…” I was worked up and didn’t realize how loud I was talking until his exclamation cut me off.
“Jesus! I think I could have heard you over here without the phone. How much caffeine have you had?”
“Sorry.” I tried again. “I swear you won’t regret it.” I was so grateful and excited, I had to fight to keep my voice at a normal level.
“I’d better not.”
We hung up. I put my hands on my hips and tried to calm my rapidly beating heart.
I was going to have to control my anger before I made my next call.
I scrolled through my phone, thankful for once that I never updated my contacts.
I had no clue who some of the people in my phone even were.
And, luckily, I still had the contact info for an ex-girlfriend from six years ago.
I hoped she hadn’t gotten a new number, I thought as I waited for her to pick up.
A female voice answered.
“Sara?”
“Edward! You called me. I’m so glad.” I could practically see her twirling one of her silky blonde curls as she talked to me.
“I think you’re well aware of why I’m calling you,” I said, controlling my voice.
I wanted to yell at her, to confront her.
But I had to wait until the right time. “I need you at my house at six-thirty in the morning. If you’re not here by then, I’m calling the police.
” I was so furious, I could barely speak.
“What are you talking about?” So, she was trying to act as if she didn’t know exactly why I wanted to see her. She sounded nervous, though.
“I know what you did. What did the Hart family promise you? What did they give you?”
Silence.
“You’ll tell me every last bit on the flight to Charleston.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not going with you to Charleston!”
“Oh, you are. Like I said, I’ve got the police on speed dial. Go pack. And be ready to tell me exactly what the Harts gave you to make you come see me a couple of weeks ago.”
“Go ahead and call the police. I did nothing illegal. All I did was come see my ex-boyfriend, and I got a little money for it. What’s wrong with that?”
“You had to drive all the way back here, through a gate and past the main house to get to my private residence. Taking pictures of another person without their consent on private property is a crime. And you knew a private investigator was hiding somewhere to take staged pictures when you kiss attacked me—all to try and break me and my girlfriend up. Aren’t you a paralegal? ”
“Yes,” she whispered, sounding a lot less confident.
“I wonder what your bosses would think about what you did.” I happened to know she worked at one of the most conservative law practices in Wixby. I’d gone to school with the founding partner’s son. “Did you not realize I know J.D. Haddows well?”
“No.” Her voice sounded weak.
“I went to boarding school with his son, Joseph. I’m sure you’re aware he’ll be joining the practice as soon as he passes the bar. I know he’d be happy to represent me in a civil case against you.”
She sucked in a breath. “Fine. I’ll be there,” she choked out. I could hear the sounds of her starting to cry as she hung up.
I hurried around my house grabbing things and throwing them in a suitcase.
I tried to focus. I didn’t want to end up in Charleston with nothing but suits or ten pairs of pajama pants or something weird.
Packing was a good distraction, anyway. I knew I had to have certain outfits ready to go.
This was, of course, based on the possibility that Cara was going to believe me.
That she wouldn’t throw what we had away because she still didn’t trust me for something I’d done six years ago.
My righteous anger deflated, then, and I sat down hard on the nearest surface. I couldn’t blame her. Not at all. I was lucky she’d even given me the time of day after the way things had spiraled after Dad died.
But I was hoping and praying my plan would work and that she’d listen to me. That she could think about how fast we fell back into what we had when we were teenagers—how quickly we’d fallen back in love. What we had was special. I knew she felt it, too.
I hoped beyond hope that she wouldn’t let the Hart family win.
I barely slept a wink all night. I kept playing and re-playing scenarios in my head.
None of them were good. Why is it that things are always ten times worse at night?
The same worry that seemed impossible to overcome at three in the morning looked completely different at three in the afternoon.
But once those worries and worst-case scenarios pop up, there’s no getting rid of them.
I finally gave up and got out of bed. After a ridiculously long shower, I felt better and had some of my old determination back. I finished packing, choked down some breakfast, and went over my plan about two hundred and fifty times in my head.
I was watching when, at almost exactly six-thirty, a car pulled into my driveway and let Sara out. She was wheeling a suitcase behind her and smiling.
Like we were about to go on vacation together. She always had been a bit delusional, but this went beyond that.
I walked out with my suitcase and locked my door.
“Get in the car,” I demanded, gesturing towards the Jaguar, as Sara came towards me. She was wearing a revealing dress and sky-high heels. Not much had changed, I saw, since we’d dated.
She didn’t get in the car. She just stood outside it, nervously shifting her weight around. “Edward, just listen to me!” she cried as I got behind the wheel and started the car. I rolled the window down on her side so she could hear me.
“Get in the car, Sara!” I raised my voice at her, just shy of yelling.
First, she looked surprised—I’m not exactly known for shouting at anyone, much less women—then she looked angry. But she got in.
I pulled out so fast, the tires squealed.
We pulled into the North Wixby airfield shortly afterwards.
It was easy to pick out the airplane. It was the only one on the runway, and it had the Wixby River Farms logo painted on the side.
I parked and got out, first getting the luggage from the trunk, and then running to the plane.
It was ready to pull out. Sara ran behind me.
When we boarded, I asked to speak to the head flight attendant.
“Is there someone on this flight who can watch this woman and prove that I never go near her?” I gestured towards Sara.