Even now, when I looked back at my grand scheme to get the rest of my trust, I could see the ways that shame and self-doubt had fueled my behavior. I was too proud to go to my father, admit my mistakes, and ask for a loan. I was too worried about looking foolish compared to my brother. I was too concerned with what everyone else would think of a guy like me—a guy who’d been handed every single advantage in life and still managed to fuck it up.
Looking ahead, I had no idea what would happen. I supposed I’d have to cover for myself once Chloe left, find some way to explain the breakup to my family, and look for another way to raise the money to buy the land, expand Brown Eyed Girl, and craft a heritage rye.
But it all seemed pointless without her. I hardly cared anymore. It made me wonder if all along what had been driving me to chase this dream was the desire to be with her rather than money or accolades or pride.
Maybe the dream had always been her.
23
Chloe
NOW
I spent the day with my mother and Aunt Nell, although I can’t say I enjoyed it. All they wanted to talk about was Oliver and me, how cute it was that we’d finally fallen in love, how right they’d been all along about what a good match we’d make, what good secret-keepers we were to have hidden our relationship so well. They spoke of wedding dresses and bridal showers and guest lists. Music and food and flowers. Invitations and photography and memories of their own weddings, at which they’d stood up for one another as maids of honor.
It was agony.
All I could think was that I’d never have any of those things.
Worst of all, my mother refused to consider leaving early.
“But we’re always so busy this week of July,” I’d protested. “Is it really fair to leave April and Frannie with such a big burden?”
“It’s fine,” she said, patting my shoulder as we window-shopped. “I just spoke to April this morning, and she said all was well.”
“You didn’t say anything about the engagement, did you?” I asked.
She sighed. “No, but it was very difficult. You’re going to tell them when we get home, right? I don’t know how long I can keep such a juicy secret.”
I nodded, feeling sick to my stomach again. “Sure.”
When we got home, my mother and Aunt Nell decided to sit around the pool with Charlotte, Lisa, and the boys, but I said I was feeling tired and wanted to lie down.
“You’ve been awfully tired over the last twenty-four hours,” my mother remarked as she tucked a few things into her pool bag. “You’re looking a bit pale too. And you haven’t eaten much either.” She looked up, her expression a mix of excitement and alarm. “Are you pregnant?”
Rolling my eyes, I leaned against the door frame of her room. “I’m not pregnant, Mom. I’m just tired. It’s been a crazy week.”
She didn’t look entirely convinced, and I could only imagine that she and Aunt Nell would sit around the pool naming their future grandchildren. But she left me alone and went out to the pool, and I went to my room by myself.
The first thing I did was remove the ring and place it on the dresser. My throat closed up, but I left it lying there and curled up on the bed. I’d only been resting there a few minutes when I heard a knock on the door.
Oliver.
I sat up quickly. “Yes?”
The door opened slowly, and Gran stood there. “Hello, dear.”
“Oh. Hello.” I was surprised at the disappointment I felt. I should have been glad Oliver had given up on me and taken off to go sailing alone, right?
“May I come in?” Gran asked.
“Sure.”
Using her cane, she ambled into the room and moved toward the only chair, which was next to the dresser. Right away, I realized she’d see the ring on the otherwise bare dresser top.
Sure enough, she paused a moment to look at it before lowering herself into the floral-upholstered chair. “And where’s our Oliver today?”
“I’m not sure.” I fidgeted with my empty ring finger. “I think he was going to go sailing.”
A strange silence followed. I had no idea what to say.
Gran was studying me with shrewd eyes. “You don’t want to marry our Oliver, do you?”
I thought about lying. In fact, I opened my mouth to do it. But I couldn’t. Instead I shook my head, feeling shame paint my cheeks.
She nodded as if she’d known. “But you love him.”
Again, I thought of giving a false answer, but I didn’t. “Yes,” I said quietly, looking down at my hands. “I can’t help it.”
“Even after what he’s done?”
I looked up at her in surprise. “What he’s done?”
“Oh my dear, you don’t survive to be ninety without becoming a pretty good judge of character. And Oliver isn’t quite the actor he thinks he is.”
“Well, he fooled me,” I admitted. “I thought he really cared about me, but all he really wanted was the money.”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” she said. “In fact, I’m fairly certain he does care for you, even more than he knows.” She paused to sigh. “Which is why I didn’t think he’d go through with that silly proposal last night. I thought by pressuring him to do it so quickly, he’d buckle and tell me the truth.”
“Oliver has a tricky relationship with the truth,” I said bitterly. “He only embraces it when it suits him.”
“You’re right about that.”
“And he’s gotten away with it his whole life!”
“We can blame his mother for that,” Gran said drily. “I love my daughter, but Jiminy Cricket, she spoiled him rotten.”
I had to laugh a little. “She did.”
“And he’s got more charm than any one man should be allowed to have.”
“Agreed,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t know what it is about him, but he gets to me every time. Even when I know he’s not playing by the rules, I—”
“Can’t help wanting to play along?” Gran winked at me. “I know just what you mean. I was married to a charmer too. What they need is a good, strong woman to keep them in line.”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
“You know, everyone thinks I’m old-fashioned and stubborn about tradition, and maybe I am, but I’m a feminist in my own way. And I think you’re right to tell Oliver to go to the devil. How dare he assume he could prop you up as his fiancée and fool me in the process?” She clucked her tongue. “What a donkey’s ass.”
The curse word made me laugh. “I agree.”
“The question is,” she went on, “what are we going to do with him? Do you think this scheme of his with the Russian rye is malarkey or the real deal?”
“I think it’s the real deal,” I said honestly. “He’s onto something.”
“So you think I should give him the money?”
I blinked at her. Was she really asking me if she should give Oliver a million dollars? “I’m not sure I’m qualified to give that answer.”
“Sure you are. Be confident. Trust your gut. If it was your money, would you buy that land?”