“Yes, I can see how having more children would be terrible for you.” She gestured to Prescott. “You obviously hate babies.”
I frowned. “Look, I faced my fear, okay? I told her how I felt. It sucks that she’s so young and took a job somewhere else, but it was never going to work, she’s gone now, and I’ll be fine without her.”
She sighed, turning her attention to the water boiling on the stove. Grabbing a bag of egg noodles, she ripped it open and dumped them in. “Okay, Dex. If you say so.”
“I do.”
“Because you don’t look fine. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“I said I’ll be fine—once I stop missing her.”
She nodded but said nothing.
“What?”
“Nothing. I don’t want to argue.”
“But . . .”
“But I still think you’re throwing away something that could be great because you don’t want to risk rejection, and that hurts me to think about. But I’m not going to say anything more, because I hate when there’s weirdness between us, and the last two weeks have been weird.” She sniffed. “You’re the only brother I’ve got, and you’re always in my corner. I hope you know I’m always in yours.”
Touched, I swallowed hard. That was something our mom used to say—if you loved someone, you were in their corner. Always. “Thanks.”
Later that night, I lay in bed staring at my phone in my hands. Three times I tried to start a message to Winnie and ended up deleting every word.
Finally, I forced myself to get it done for the girls’ sake.
Hey. I hope you’re doing well. The girls read your email to me, and it sounds like everything is going great in Newport. They would like to see you next weekend while you’re in town. Unfortunately, Naomi’s wedding is that weekend, so Friday and Saturday are out. Could we meet you Sunday before you head out? Maybe at your mom’s bakery after church? No pressure. Let me know.
After rereading it a hundred times, I thoroughly despised every word. It said nothing about how I felt, how much I missed her, how badly I wished she was coming home to see me in addition to working her event. Maybe she’d have stayed with me—we could have had the entire weekend together. Slept two nights in my bed. Woken up together—I’d never gotten to wake up with her.
Angry, I hit send and put my phone on the charger. Then I switched off the lamp, rolled over and yanked the covers to my shoulder.
Miserable. Frustrated. Alone.
Twenty-Six
Winnie
I was sitting on my couch in the new apartment working on some social media content for The Alexander when the text from Dex came in.
Holding my breath, I read it through three times.
Exhaling, I closed my eyes. Tears welled behind my lids, which surprised and annoyed me. Why should he still have the power to make me sad when things were going so well?
I loved my new job, and I liked all my co-workers, especially Sandra. She was in her fifties, recently widowed, and had moved away from Manhattan to start a second chapter in her life. Her kids were in college and she lived alone, so sometimes she and I worked late nights together and ended up having dinner while we worked. She was fast becoming a mentor, if not a friend, and I really admired her work ethic, style, and grit.
The Alexander was beautiful, and I had a small office of my very own with a view of the gardens. My new apartment was tiny—just one bedroom and one bath—but close to work, not far from the beach, and I could walk to downtown Newport within minutes.
It just didn’t feel like home.
I told myself to give it time—it had only been ten days, after all—but inwardly I worried that I’d never feel like I belonged here. Ellie and I were in constant touch about our wine tasting dinner, and that kept me feeling close ties to Cloverleigh Farms too.
But I was determined to push forward, be successful, and meet new friends. I’d promised myself I’d start saying yes to some of my co-workers’ invites to drinks after I got back from Michigan next weekend—that is, if I survived seeing Dex, I thought, as my eyes ran over his words a fourth time.
It didn’t even sound like him. There was no grumpy humor, no dirty words, no personality. It was just straightforward, polite, almost formal.
Had he gotten over me already? Maybe he wasn’t afraid to see me. Maybe out of sight was out of mind for him, and I was nothing more than a girl he used to know. My throat squeezed with the need to cry, but I fought back.
After a deep breath, I picked up my phone and replied, being careful to adopt the same polite formality he’d used.