15
I received a letter this morning that has astonished me exceedingly. —Pride and Prejudice
Why can’t I stop crying? I don’t even like him. I sit for a full 20 minutes with my head on the steering wheel and weep. When I finally calm down, I open the paper bag from the coffee shop and see the two remaining macarons, one caramel, the other blood orange. He remembered what I like. I start crying again. To think that Liam actually cares about me. Though he probably won’t find it hard to get over me after this. I was incredibly rude and left him stranded. I’m certain he took an Uber back to the coffee shop, but still. I feel terrible. Why does he bring out the worst in me?
No, if I’m honest with myself, the fault is mine. Before I even met Liam, I made up my mind to dislike him just to be contrary to Lydia and Priscilla, who insisted I must fall in love with him. And when I found myself liking him, I dug my heels into my preconceived ideas. Because if I hated him first, he couldn’t reject me. And now, months when we could have been dating are lost. Which is a shame. Because he’s right. We could be something great. He gets my humor. And I get his. He’s supportive of my work. And I love how much he cares about his company and his family and his friends... and me. I take a bite of the blood orange macaron and more tears roll down my cheeks.
***
A few days later, I receive an email from Liam. Actually, according to the date stamp, he sent the email the day after I last saw him. But I have been too busy packing and finishing up the last round of edits. I changed the villain’s name from Will Danzie to Ivan Pennington. This change delayed the publication of my book. But I owed him that much.
I’m wildly curious about his email but also scared to open it. When we last spoke, I shielded myself with rage and indignation. I was so worried he would talk me into doing something I’d regret—give up a job and my independence just for the chance to date him. To maintain my resolve, I did my best to ignore his feelings. But I’m not blind; I saw his face, and I know my rejection hit him hard. I’m afraid to read what he has to say.
From: [email protected]
Subject: An explanation
Dearest Lettie,
Don’t worry. I won’t pester you with the same request that was so offensive to you yesterday. Upon consideration, I realize I should have been more supportive of your move and less demanding. As much as you mean to me, you owe me nothing. I also apologize for my angry tone and words. You deserve better.
That said, I hope you will be generous enough to read this email. You laid many accusations against me. I’m no saint, but I can’t bear to think that you, of all people, believe the lies Noah Whittaker has spread about me. To clear my name, I must tell you of an incident that I would wish to forget.
I can only imagine what lies he has told you. Here’s the account of our relationship. Noah was the son of a neighboring almond grower and good friend of my father, Joe Whittaker. When Joe’s farm fell on hard times, he came to my dad for help. My dad offered him a well-paying job in his new almond butter company. Joe was happy to give up the hardships of almond growing but regretted that he wasn’t able to leave his family farm to his son. In an act of staggering generosity, my father bought Joe’s farm and hired a manager to run it with the plan that he would give it to Noah when he turned 21.
Because of our fathers’ friendship, Noah and I spent some time together as small boys at family barbecues and so forth. As we grew older, it became clear to me that Noah was a manipulative bully and far too lazy to ever run a farm. He was also a bit wilder than I am. Some might say he was more fun. But I found I didn’t like Noah’s brand of fun. It usually involved hurting other people or breaking the law.
For example, when I was 13, I wouldn’t let a very high Noah take the keys to my dad’s Jag. He accused me of being a lawman and a spoilsport. From then on, I kept my distance. He told everyone I knew that I was too much of a snob to spend time with him. That I dropped him because his family wasn’t as wealthy as mine. You’re not the first person close to me to believe Noah’s lies, my parents did as well. They were continually asking me to spend more time with him. I found spending time with Noah abhorrent, but I also wasn’t a snitch, so I shrugged my parents off. I wish I had been more forthcoming and told them the truth. Then perhaps my family could’ve been spared a lot of heartache.
When Noah graduated from high school, he and his father approached my dad. They told him they had a change of heart. Noah no longer had any interest in almond growing or farming at all. Instead, he said he wanted to go to college to become a lawyer. They asked for the cash value of their family farm to pay for his schooling. My dad was generous enough to give them far more than that farm was ever worth. I have no idea what Noah did with all the money, probably gambled a fair chunk. He certainly didn’t spend one nickel on college. Five years later, he had blown through the money, and his father, who had risen to be vice president of Pemberley Almond Butter, hired Noah to work for the company.
This next part of the story is painful for me to think about. My younger sister Georgianna was interning for Pemberley Almonds her first summer after college. Noah was working as a shift manager. Within weeks, he worked his charm, and they were dating. By the end of summer, he convinced Georgie to move in with him and drop out of college. My parents were concerned. Noah spun their very reasonable attempts to convince their daughter to go back to school as evidence that her family was elitist, controlling, and oppressive. Soon, she cut off all communication with us.
He was financially and emotionally abusive. He would yell at her about spending too much money on gourmet coffee and then turn around and drain her bank account. She knew Noah was cruel to her. She told herself that he wasn’t that bad because he didn’t physically hit her. And he would always apologize with gifts and flowers.
He repeatedly told her that she was worthless and that her snobby family hated her because she had moved in with an “ordinary guy” like him. In Georgie’s head, we were all too angry at her to let her come home. None of this was true. It broke my parents’ hearts that she didn’t return their texts or phone calls. She got a new phone, and we had no way to reach her. By this time, she had also cut off all her friends.
Noah did whatever he could to control her. He told her time and time again that she would be nothing without him. Meanwhile, she was doing everything she could to keep him happy. She worked as a waitress at a crappy diner and turned over all her wages to him. Nearly a year passed without us knowing where she was or how she was doing. And then, thank God, Charlie randomly walked into the remote diner she worked at near Mammoth.
As cheery as Charlie can be, he’s incredibly perceptive. After asking Georgianna a few questions, he quickly sized up the situation. He said goodbye without letting on that he was concerned in anyway. But as soon as he left, he called me. The next day, Charlie and I drove to the diner. Upon seeing me, Georgie acted cagey. She waved at me stiffly as if I were some casual acquaintance. At first, she said she was too busy to talk, even though the diner was obviously slow. When she finally sat down with us, she tried to tell me everything was fine. She was happy and living her best life.
Charlie suggested we go for a drive to catch up. He knew a place nearby that served the best milkshakes. Georgie hesitated but then agreed. Her shift was about over anyway. Once we drove a few miles out of town, she opened up. She told us she left her cell phone at the diner on purpose because Noah tracked her whereabouts. She said she wanted to go home, had wanted to for a long time. But she had no money of her own and no car. Noah had threatened that if any of her family visited her, he would shoot us on sight. That’s why she acted so strange when I came into the diner.
We drove straight to my Aunt Kate’s. Noah knew where we lived. So, we thought it would be safest if Georgie stayed somewhere else. She and my aunt left immediately for England. My Aunt Kate had already been planning a trip to hike the South West Coast Path. Georgie joined her, and my parents soon followed. I was left behind to run the business. Even an ocean away, I heard Georgie’s horror stories of living in a controlling and emotionally abusive relationship. It took everything in me not to find Noah and beat him to a pulp. I still want to. But it wouldn’t do my family any good if I went to jail for assault and battery. And Noah would absolutely press charges and then sue us in a civil court to get as much money as possible.
We found her the summer before my dad died. I can’t say how excruciating this whole incident was for our family. My dad blamed himself for pushing Georgie away. And when he died of a massive heart attack, Georgie blamed herself for the stress that she believed led to his early death. Her guilt is so intense she never comes home. I cannot tell you how much I love my little sister and how angry it made me that some idiot ripped her confidence to shreds. She’s slowly returning to her bright, spunky self. We are all still healing from that experience.
If you doubt this story, feel free to ask Charlie. You can even talk to Georgie. She’d be more than happy to speak to you. I share this partly to clear my name but also because I can’t bear to see you, of all people, fall victim to such a monster.
This email is much longer than I intended. All I have left to say is: thank you for taking the time to read this. I wish you nothing but happiness as you move back home.
Yours,
Liam Darcy
I stare at my phone. I consider reaching out to Charlie to ask if it’s true. It’s also tempting to contact Georgie. Liam gave me her email and phone number after his signature. But I believe him, and I don’t see the point of making his sister relive the darkest part of her life. I think of how glibly Noah lied about Darcy and then with shame at how quickly I believed him. I need to email him back. I need to apologize.
I read the email again, and I’m overwhelmed by Liam’s kindness and understanding. So many men would twist my rejection into bitter anger. But he didn’t. He took the time to think about where I was coming from. It feels good for him to name exactly why his offer hurt me. He should have been more supportive. He’s right, but I wish I’d been more gentle and honest. I should have told him that I didn’t want to leave. That I really like him. I’m not sure when, if ever, I’ll be brave enough to say those things.
I tell myself I will reply once I reach Iowa. I know that if I reach out to Liam now, if I see him just once, before I leave, I might not be able to go. And yeah, I misjudged him, terribly, horribly. But also, I can’t upend my plans for a guy—no matter how handsome and wealthy, even if I might be halfway in love with him.