Chapter 19
Alice
Iwake up Friday morning thinking about Lance showing up at the library. I barely slept. Every sound outside made me tense up—car doors, footsteps, the neighbor's dog barking. Every noise made me wonder if he was out there, watching.
By the time I get to work, I’m tired and jumpy. Nora notices right away.
“You look like you didn’t sleep,” she says, unlocking her station. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just one of those nights,” I say, settling into my chair and immediately adjusting my glasses.
But I can’t focus. Every time the door chimes, I expect to see Lance walking in. The morning drags with routine transactions and small talk. I keep checking my phone even though there’s nothing there. I thought I was over this. I thought moving to Pine Hollows would be enough distance.
Clearly, I was wrong.
Around noon, I get a text from Sawyer.
Sawyer: Coffee break? I’m at Cozy Cup.
I grab my purse and tell Nora I’m taking my lunch break. Maybe seeing Sawyer will help me feel normal again. Even for a little bit.
The drive to Cozy Cup is short, but I find myself checking my rearview mirror more than usual. Is that car following me? How long has it been behind me? I push my glasses up and force myself to breathe.
When I get to Cozy Cup, Sawyer's already watching the door. Like he knew I'd be checking over my shoulder.
“Hey,” I say, sliding into the chair across from him.
“Hey yourself. You look tired.”
“Thanks. That’s exactly what every woman wants to hear.”
He grins. “I meant you look like you didn’t get any sleep. Big difference.”
I’m smiling despite myself.
“Rough night?”
I shrug. I don’t want to admit that Lance kept me awake. That would mean admitting he still has power over me, and I’m not ready for that conversation. “Just couldn’t turn my brain off.”
Diane appears at our table with a white mocha before I even order. “Your usual.”
“Thanks, Ms. Diane.”
She smiles, placing her hand on Sawyer’s shoulder before making her way back to the counter. I wrap my hands around the warm mug, letting the heat ground me.
“How’s the coffee?” Sawyer asks.
“Perfect. I needed this.” I take a sip. “It’s been a long morning.”
Before he can respond, the door chimes again, and I look up to see my mother walking in.
Great. Literally the last thing I want right now.
Mom spots me right away and heads over, her heels clicking against the floor. She's dressed for work in a blazer and skirt, looking every bit the successful real estate agent she thinks she is.
My stomach sinks. Mom never comes to Cozy Cup. This isn't a coincidence. Lance told her exactly where to find us.
“Alice, what a surprise,” she says, though her tone suggests it’s not a good one. Her eyes move to Sawyer, taking in his uniform and badge with obvious calculation. “And you must be the new friend I’ve been hearing about.”
“Mom, this is Sawyer. Sawyer, my mother, Tracy.”
Sawyer stands and extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs…?”
“Campbell. Ms. Tracy Campbell.” She shakes his hand but doesn’t smile. “So you’re a police officer?”
My stomach twists. Campbell. Mom kept her maiden name when she married Dad, and when I was born, she gave me her name too. Not his. Like she wanted to erase him from our lives even then. Grandma's house, Grandma's name, Mom's name, my name—all Campbell. Dad never stood a chance.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How interesting.” Mom looks back at me, and I can practically see the wheels turning. Police officer equals stability, equals someone Lance might see as competition. “You should’ve told me you were seeing someone, Alice. Especially so soon after everything.”
I feel my face get hot and push my glasses up my nose again. Sawyer looks confused, and I’m embarrassed.
“We’re just having coffee, Mom.”
“Of course you are.” Her smile is fake, practiced.
“Well, I don’t want to interrupt. I just stopped in before my next appointment.
” She pauses, and I know what’s coming before she says it.
“Oh, I saw Lance yesterday.” She says it so casually, like it's nothing.
"He mentioned he's spending more time in Pine Hollows. He says he misses you.”
My stomach drops. “He said what?”
“That he misses you. Honestly, Alice, the poor boy seems heartbroken. I know things didn’t end well, but maybe—”
“There’s no maybe,” I cut her off. “Lance and I are done. For good this time.”
Tracy raises her eyebrows like I’m being unreasonable. Like I’m the problem. “There’s no need to be dramatic, sweetheart. People make mistakes. Sometimes they deserve second chances.”
“He’s had so many chances.” The words come out sharper than I intended, but I’m tired of this conversation. Tired of defending decisions I shouldn’t have to defend.
The table goes quiet. Sawyer is watching everything, clearly picking up that there’s more going on than family drama.
Tracy straightens her blazer. “Well, I should get going. It was nice meeting you, Officer.” She looks back at me with that disappointed expression I know so well. “Think about what I said, Alice. Lance has always cared about you.”
She walks away, leaving me staring into my coffee and wanting to scream.
Sawyer's jaw is tight. His cop face is on. The one where he's processing information and coming to conclusions.
He knows. Maybe not everything, but enough.
“You okay?” Sawyer asks quietly.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” The lie comes automatically.
“I gathered that your mom has opinions about your personal life.”
“She works for Lance’s family’s real estate company. Has for years. In her mind, Lance can do no wrong.” I take a long sip of my mocha, hoping the sweetness will chase away the bitter taste this conversation left. “She’s always taken his side over mine.”
She still does. And she always will. Because Lance's family pays her salary.
“Even after you two broke up?”
“Especially after we broke up. She thinks I’m being stubborn and dramatic.” I set the mug down harder than I mean to. “According to her, Lance is just misunderstood and I should give him another chance.”
Sawyer leans back in his chair. “And what do you think?”
“I think Lance had plenty of chances, and he wasted every one of them.” My voice is steadier now, more certain. “Some people don’t deserve forgiveness.”
“Sounds like you made up your mind.”
“I did.” I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile, even though my hands are still shaking slightly around my mug.
We sit quietly for a moment. Finally, Sawyer speaks.
“For what it’s worth, your mom’s wrong about the timing thing. There’s no rule about when you’re allowed to move on with your life.”
“Thanks. You don’t realize how good it is to hear someone say that. Someone who doesn’t think I’m being crazy or dramatic.”
“Anytime.” He glances at his watch. “I should probably get back to work. Don’t let other people’s opinions make you second-guess yourself. You know what’s right for you.”
As I drive back to the bank, his words stick with me. He’s right. I do know what’s right for me. And what’s right for me definitely doesn’t include Lance Carlston, no matter what my mother thinks or what strings he pulls through his family’s business connections.
But as I settle back into my teller station, I can’t shake the feeling that this conversation with my mom was just the beginning. If Lance is telling people he misses me, if he’s planning to spend more time in Pine Hollows, then last night wasn’t a one-time thing.
He’s not going away. And neither is my mother’s interference.
The thought makes me want to call Sawyer back and tell him everything—about the texts, about the black SUV I sometimes think I see, about how Lance used to make me feel like I was losing my mind.
About how he’d apologize and bring flowers and promise to change, then do the same things all over again until I started questioning my own reality.
But every time I think about having that conversation, something stops me.
Maybe it's pride. Maybe it's shame—shame that I stayed as long as I did, that I believed his promises. That I believed him when he said I walked into the door, tripped on the stairs, was just clumsy. That part of me still wonders if he was right. Or maybe I’m just not ready to drag someone else into my mess.
Sawyer seems so put-together, so stable.
What if telling him the truth changes how he sees me?
Either way, I have a feeling I won’t have a choice for much longer.
The phone on my desk rings, and I answer with my professional voice. “Pine Hollows Community Bank, this is Alice.”
But as I help the customer with their account balance, I keep thinking about Lance’s message to my mother. He misses me. He’s planning to spend more time here.
The texts about the green sweater. The SUV following me. Lance at the library. My mother showing up here.
These aren't coincidences.
This is a pattern.