Chapter 33 Winnie #2
I could curl up with my phone as I read his last text. But after Judy leaves and Grandma goes back to bed, I still can’t sleep.
I sit at the kitchen table with my phone, drafting another message to Patton.
Me: We should talk before the Ball. There’s something I need to tell you.
I add more, explaining the bet, why I agreed, and how it doesn’t mean anything. Telling him this way isn’t ideal, but I can’t keep it from him any longer. My thumb hovers over the send button.
This is it. The moment I come clean about Operation Make Maverick Smile. The bet that started as a stupid joke and turned into something that feels a lot like love.
I stare at the words for five minutes, paralyzed by fear.
What if he hates me? What if he thinks everything was fake? What if—?
My phone rings. It’s my brother.
“It’s late, Fab. What’s—?”
“It’s over, Win.” His voice is hollow. “The restaurant is officially closing.”
The world tilts. “What?”
“We’re out of time. Out of options. It’s done.”
“But I was going to—I can send more money—if we just have a little more time,” I start and stop, start and stop.
“There’s no more, Winnie. We’re too far behind even if you had it, which I know you don’t.” His voice cracks. “We lost. It’s over.”
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t process that my family’s dream—the restaurant that has existed for my whole life—is just … gone. We talk for a few more minutes, but I barely register the words. When we hang up, I’m left staring at my phone through tears.
The unsent confession to Patton stares back at me.
In my emotional haze, I swipe in the wrong direction and delete it.
“No!” I try to recover it, but it’s gone. Along with my courage, apparently.
I could write it again. Should tell him about the bet before the Ball, before it’s too late.
But my brother’s words echo in my head. It’s over.
I’ve failed my family. I’m probably about to fail with Patton, too, when the truth comes out. What’s one more disaster on the pile?
I drag myself to bed, emotionally wrecked. Morning comes too early and too bright.
My phone buzzes with a text from Mindy about going shopping for the Fireman’s Ball. She comments that I’m winning the bet for sure.
I feel empty.
Winning. Win. Me.
My family’s restaurant is closing. My savings are depleted. I’m keeping secrets from the one person who makes me feel like I’m not drowning.
And everyone thinks I’m winning.
I text back a thumbs up emoji because I can’t form actual words.
Another text comes through. I’m hopeful.
Peony: Coffee before work?
Me: Raincheck?
I can’t face anyone right now. Can’t pretend I’m okay when everything has unraveled.
The guy I almost came clean to messages as well.
Patton: Morning, beautiful. I’m out in the field today, but I’m thinking of you.
Me too. Non-stop and I don’t want anything to change that.
I get ready for work on autopilot, ignoring the wrinkles in my blouse as I pull my hair back. Makeup barely conceals the bags under my eyes, the evidence of the tears that repeatedly wrench themselves free.
At work, I avoid Patton’s office. Keep my door closed. Respond to emails like a robot.
That evening, Mindy insists we head to the boutiques on Main Street in the village to find dresses to wear to the Fireman’s Ball—it isn’t exactly Rodeo Drive, but I can’t afford to buy anything, anyway.
The door is open at the first shop, letting in the fresh spring air. Mindy and the shop owner make a pile of gowns for me to try on. My heart isn’t in this game of playing dress up. It should be fun, but I’m not feeling it.
Then a deep voice, followed by laughter, cascades from outside.
My head snaps up. Patton stands in my doorway holding a takeout container. His mouth hangs open.
“What are you—?” I’m about to ask what he’s doing, but am at a loss for words.
It’s nearly dark and the streetlights illuminate his strong, masculine features, the sweep of his eyelashes, and the fullness of his lips.
Almost dropping the takeout box, he and whoever he was in the field with—Reese, I think—must’ve grabbed dinner after a long day surveying and hiking on their way back to the fire station.
“I was just walking by and—” He swallows.
“You look—” His gaze trails from my head to my feet and back again. “Amazing.”
“Oh, this. Mindy just wanted me to try it on, but I’m not—”
As if in a trance, Patton, dusty and manly after hiking all day, is a stark contrast to the downtown boutique as he enters the storefront in his utility uniform, slaps his credit card on the counter, and says, “Whatever she wants, it’s hers.”
“Patton, you can’t—”
He shakes his head. “If you want to turn this into a feud like Joyce and Judy, be my guest, but there’s no way you’re going to win.”
I cock a hip. “Is that so?”
“You look too good in that gown to argue.”
The three of us women gasp. Those could be fighting words or they could mean … something else.
Patton doesn’t let my pride get in the way of his generosity and pays, then walks me to my car. I glance over my shoulder and Mindy mouths, You’re definitely winning this bet!
Winning, win, Winnie.
If I don’t come clean, I risk losing everything that matters. But the only words that come out of my mouth are, “Thank you.”
He kisses me so tenderly, I almost say three more words. Three little ones that would have a big impact. Three words that I could never take back.