Chapter 28
My hopes start declining as we pull through the gates of Blossom Park and something obvious occurs to me that really should have crossed my mind before.
“What…?”
Wes glances over. “What, what?”
“We never talked about our living situation.”
“What are you talking about?”
He appears so confused it immediately rattles me, like maybe even the question is stupid. “We’re married now. We never talked about… I mean, are we going to try to live together?”
“Ah.” He’s not looking at me now. He’s staring ahead at the car in front of us who’s inching down the drive that winds to the parking lot. Probably going slow to admire the lush foliage in bloom along the route.
He doesn’t say any more, and neither do I. A full minute passes, and we still haven’t gotten to the turnoff to the parking lot.
“Why don’t we just stick to our own places?” Wes says at last, still not meeting my eyes. “That’ll be easier and less disorienting.”
Disorienting.
What a word to use.
“Okay.” My voice wobbles slightly, so it’s obvious I’m upset. “Won’t that look strange? I mean, if we’re married.”
“It might if the world had access to our living situation, but they don’t. The cottages are private, and with the extra security, no one’s going to be able to stake us out and see which cottages we go into at night.”
He’s right. No one will know.
Except us.
“Okay.”
“Did you want something different?” He shoots me a quick, searching look. “You sound upset.”
My pride rescues me, if nothing else. “I’m fine. That makes sense. It’s just… I guess it is already kind of disorienting. I mean, this week we’ve been acting…”
I really wish I could finish a complete sentence of more than a few words.
“I know.” He lets out a hoarse exhale as the car in front of us finally turns in to the parking lot and we can progress toward the cottages.
“That’s what’s been getting to me. It’s like I said last weekend.
I threw being smart out the window. But I’ve been thinking about it all day, now that the honeymoon is over, and I think my first instinct was the right one.
We might be married legally, but this marriage isn’t real.
We need to get through this period where we’re in the public eye in a way where no one gets hurt. ”
No one gets hurt.
Maybe he means me.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
My voice still wobbles as I say, “Okay. I guess that makes sense.”
“I’m sorry to pull back on you, but I think it’s best for both of us.”
“Right. You’re right.”
He is. Because if I’m not going to get a future with Wes, I need to withdraw emotionally. Right here and right now.
“So we can still get along like we’ve been doing, but let’s not live together. If you’re okay with that.”
“I’m okay with that.”
I’m not. But what the hell else can I say?
The honeymoon is now over.
I manage to get through the rest of the day because I’m swarmed by my sisters. And showing them photos, passing out gifts, and telling them about all the things we did fills the empty space that the conversation in the car created in my heart.
Wes is with Jake in their cottage, so that helps.
I feel scattered and edgy, but I’m not on the verge of falling apart. Not until the girls and Aunt Grace leave for their cottage and Natalie heads to town to hang out with a friend.
Audrey and I are alone as we load the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.
“Was it bad then?” she asks softly.
“What?” My tone is sharp from surprise, not annoyance.
“You’re not going to stand there and lie to me. Something is wrong with you. Was it bad?”
“No. No, it wasn’t bad. It was…” The last word gets trapped in my throat, and I have to take a shaky breath to hold my composure.
“It was good?”
“Yes.”
“So what’s wrong then?”
“As soon as we got home, he said he wanted… he wanted… to take a step back.”
She’s silent for a stretch of time, staring down at the white porcelain farm sink as she wipes it down. “He’s trying to be smart, I guess.”
“Yes. That’s exactly what he said.”
“It’s not a bad idea.”
I make a face at her. “Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not. Things are still nebulous between you. I bet he’s just as mixed up about the relationship as you are. And you’re playing it all out in the public eye. How can you possibly know how much is real?”
I’m still scowling but without any heat. It’s always been annoying that Audrey is so often wise and sensible when it feels like I’m falling apart.
“I see what you’re saying. And I understand why Wes wants what he wants. But I don’t think… I don’t think I’m mixed up anymore.”
“I see,” she murmurs, turning to face me and leaning sideways against the countertop. “You’re in love with him? You know it for sure?”
“I… I’m pretty sure. I at least want the chance to find out.”
“You have the chance. But plunging in headlong when both of you aren’t sure is a recipe for heartbreak. So what’s wrong with taking it a little slower?”
“I don’t want to take it slow,” I grumble. I’m already feeling better. Audrey’s matter-of-fact outlook always does that for me.
She laughs. “I can’t say I’ve felt that way before myself, but I can imagine.”
“But you’re right. I’ll try to slow myself down emotionally until I’m sure. That must be what Wes is feeling himself.”
“I bet it is. If and when you are absolutely sure, you need to say something to him. But until then, give yourself the space to figure it out, and maybe give him the same thing.”
“You know you can be really obnoxious with your rightness.”
She snickers. “Maybe I can see more clearly because I’ve never been in that flurry of romantic feelings myself.
I can make sense of it because I’ve never been in love myself.
” Her tone softens as she turns back to the sink, and the last thing she says might have been to herself. “I doubt I ever will.”
The next week isn’t great, but it also isn’t terrible.
I see Wes a normal amount—in Rooster’s or around the garden or when I stop by Jake’s to discuss business (at a time I’m sure Wes will be around).
We don’t have sex.
I really want to. I imagine it more times than is entirely healthy for my mental composure. But I’m not around him enough for the desire to transform from emotional to urgently physical, so I manage not to do anything reckless or embarrassing.
It helps that I’m swamped all week with publicity remaining from the wedding and honeymoon and a continued wave of interest in hosting events at Blossom Park.
We no longer have any worries about paying off our debt and establishing ourselves as financially secure for several years. But there’s a different kind of stress in trying to manage the influx of inquiries, viewings, and events.
All week I look forward to Saturday since Wes and I have planned to go to the flea market together.
If we don’t appear together anywhere, it will feed the skepticism of all the doubters. Plus I want to go to the flea market, and I want to spend real time with Wes.
Maybe a longer outing will help to make sense of my feelings.
So I’m in a good mood in the morning, helping Iris and Parker with a big school project, when I get a text from Wes.
I’m thinking I won’t go this afternoon.
I stare at the words for more than a minute, my vision blurring a couple of times.
“Is it bad news?” Iris asks, turning from the book she was paging through.
“N-no. It’s not. But I’ll be right back. I need to call someone.”
“Okay.” Iris is observant and sensitive for her age, but she’s distracted by her work and she trusts me.
If there’s no bad news and I need to make a call, she believes me.
Parker, pulling on her hair in frustration as she tries to write out notes, couldn’t care less.
I’m walking toward the front door so I can go outside—that feels more private than any room in Aunt Grace and the girls’ cottage—when another text from Wes comes in.
Ella?
I grimace down at the text and then connect a call to him.
“Hey,” he says, picking up. “Is everything—?”
“No, everything’s not okay. Why aren’t you coming this afternoon?”
I think my tone must surprise him because he pauses before he answers. “I don’t see much reason in it, and I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on.”
“You had that work on Wednesday when we made plans. If you don’t want to hang out with me, just say so.”
“It’s not that.” He’s sounding a little stretched now. Definitely not casual and laid-back as he’s been acting all week. “You know that—”
“I know that we’re supposed to be smart but not that we’re supposed to avoid each other. If we’re never seen together anywhere, everyone will know the whole thing is a ridiculous farce.”
He makes an exasperated sound in his throat. “Who the hell cares what they think anymore? We’ve gotten what we needed out of The Plan.”
“So you want to end it?” I’m trying to channel Audrey and be matter-of-fact, but I’m not Audrey. I’m just me, and I’m buffeted by a torrent of emotion right now. My voice wobbles audibly on the last two words.
“I didn’t say that. Why are you acting this way?”
“Because I thought—” The words come bursting out before I think them through, but when my mind catches up, I bite them off.
Another long pause from Wes. Then he murmurs, almost gently, “You thought what?”
“It doesn’t matter what I thought. This is getting messy, which is exactly what you were trying to avoid when you had us back off. So tell me right now. Do you want to end The Plan?”
“It needs to end eventually.”
“I know that. But I’d rather the world not think we made the whole thing up as a publicity stunt, so I wanted it to… to transition more naturally.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? What does that mean?”
“It means okay. I’m okay with that. But you’re right. This is getting messy. So why don’t we plot out a timeline. How much longer we’re going to do this and exactly what interactions we’ll need to have to get there.”
He sounds businesslike. Cool. Slightly brusque.
The way he used to sound all the time around me.
And so that makes it crystal clear.
Whatever dream I had for a real relationship with Wes wasn’t based in reality.
And when The Plan ends, so will everything else between us.
I say, “That’s a good idea. We can plot it out on the drive to the flea market. Unless you still insist on canceling on me.”
“No. I’m not going to cancel.” He sounds tired, battered.
Exactly what I’m feeling myself.