“Maybe, maybe not.” Millie dabbed beneath her eyes, but her eyeliner and mascara was a mess. “Some people are just bad at love, you know? They’re too selfish or narcissistic, or deep down they don’t love themselves, so they don’t know how to accept it from others.”
Something about that struck a chord in me. “Do you think some people just aren’t wired for love?”
Millie sighed and blew her nose again. “Me, personally? No. I think some people choose to behave in ways that keep them closed off from it, but I think everyone is capable.”
I looked down at the ring on my finger. “Hutton says he’s not wired for love, because of his anxiety. He thinks he’s better off alone.”
“People say a lot of things they don’t mean when they’re scared.”
My eyes filled and I grabbed some toilet paper. “That’s what I mean! You can’t trust people to tell the truth!”
“Does Hutton know how you feel? Did you tell him?”
“No, but I implied it.”
“Felicity.” She put a hand on my arm. “Tell him the truth about your feelings. I’m not saying you have to get engaged or married or even keep living together. But why not at least be honest? What if hearing the words is the push he needs?”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t want to hear those words from me.”
“But you just told me—”
“I’m not done. He has to be out of the house two weeks after the party. Our plan was to end things by then.”
“I remember the plan,” she said drily.
“But then this morning he comes into the bedroom with a new plan. He said maybe he’ll rent another place here and I can live in it. This way he’ll have a place to stay when he comes to town.”
Millie shrank back and wrinkled her nose. “What?”
“He wants to keep me like a pet,” I said, gesturing to Muffin.
“This makes no sense.” Millie seemed genuinely perplexed. “Why would he say that? He loves you.”
“Not enough,” I said quietly.
For once, Millie had no rebuttal.
My phone buzzed on the table, and I looked at it. “Jesus Christ, this woman is so annoying!”
“Carla again?”
“No, fucking Mimi Pepper-Peabody. She keeps wanting to meet up with me.” I read the text. “Now she’s making threats. This one says ‘If I don’t hear from you within twenty-four hours, you won’t have a chance to tell me your side of the story.’”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I have no idea. I’m fucking exhausted.” Setting my phone down, I rubbed my face with both hands. “But I have to go to work.”
“Me too. I’m sorry—I feel like I wasn’t much help.” She walked me to the door. “Want to hang out tomorrow?”
“Maybe. I’ll text you.” I gave her a hug, and she didn’t let go right away.
“I wish you would have told me about that night,” she said, her voice cracking. “I feel awful you went through that alone.”
“It’s okay.”
“Are you going to tell Dad?”
“No.” I let her go and stood back. “Dad does not need to hear it at this point. He was hard enough on himself, and I don’t want him feeling guilty about this. He’s happy.”
“He is happy. Thank goodness for Frannie.” She laughed a little. “It’s funny to me—Frannie was younger than we are now when she married Dad. Didn’t she seem so old?”
I had to smile. “Yes. I’d never seen two old people act so stupid. Especially Dad.”
“Think they would have gotten together if we hadn’t told him what was what?”
I shrugged. “Probably. It would have taken longer, since Dad was so stubborn, but they were obviously in love.”
She poked my shoulder. “So you’re saying love finds a way?”
“It’s different for us.” I frowned. “We’re not Dad and Frannie.”
“What’s so different?”
“We’re just—” I struggled for an answer, then I heard Hutton’s voice in my head. “We were born under different stars.”
Twenty minutes later, I arrived at Etoile. After pulling myself together in the parking lot, I went in the kitchen door.
Gianni glanced at me as I passed by his office. “Oh, hey. Someone’s waiting to see you.”
“What? Where?”