Page 21 of Practically Perfect Together

Either way, someone gets left behind. And I've never been good at goodbyes.

ChapterEight

Jameson

"To Savannah, for bringing Mountain Laurel Lodge into the big leagues," Liam raises his glass, and everyone around the table follows suit. "The Bennett retreat is exactly the kind of high-profile business we've been hoping to attract."

"And to the happy couple," Mom adds, beaming at us with undisguised delight. "It's about time someone captured this wild son of mine."

Murmurs of agreement circle the table as everyone drinks to our supposed engagement. Only Jules knows the truth, and she's carefully avoiding my eyes across the table. The charade was supposed to end with the Bennett contract, but somehow I haven't found the right moment to tell my family it was all an act.

Or maybe I haven't wanted to.

Savannah smiles and raises her glass, but I notice it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She's been this way all evening. Physically present but somehow a thousand miles away.

"To new beginnings," she says, her voice carrying a weight I don't understand.

Bear whines softly at my feet, as if sensing the tension I'm trying to hide. He's been dividing his attention between me and Savannah all evening, occasionally resting his head on her knee despite her half-hearted protests.

Declan serves the main course—his Bennett Beef Wellington that he's been perfecting all day—and conversation flows around the table. Mom asks about wedding venues. Mia wants to know if she can be a flower girl. Each innocent question seems to make Savannah retreat further behind her polished smile.

Something's wrong, and I have a feeling it has nothing to do with Bennett Financial.

Mom notices too. Nothing escapes Evie Callahan, especially not when it involves one of her children or someone she's decided belongs at this table.

"Savannah, dear, why don't you help Jameson bring out the dessert?" she suggests innocently, though the pointed look she gives me is anything but subtle.

"Of course," Savannah replies, setting her napkin aside and standing. Her movements are graceful but mechanical, like she's operating on autopilot.

In the kitchen, away from the cheerful noise of the dining room, the silence between us becomes impossible to ignore. I pull Mom's apple pie from the warming drawer while Savannah gathers plates from the cupboard.

"Okay, what's going on?" I finally ask, setting the pie down and turning to face her. "You've been somewhere else all night."

"Tired," she says without meeting my eyes. "It's been a long week."

"Try again." I step closer, and she stills, plates clutched to her chest like a shield. "I may not be a corporate strategist, but I know when someone's keeping something from me."

For a moment, I think she'll maintain the facade. Then her shoulders drop slightly, and she sets the plates on the counter with a soft clink.

"I got a job offer today," she says quietly. "Regional Director for a new office in Denver."

The words land like a physical blow, though I do my best not to let it show. "Denver, Colorado?"

"Yes, it’s a significant opportunity." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a rare nervous gesture from someone usually so composed. "Leading a whole office, building a team from scratch."

"When?" The question comes out rougher than I intended.

"Two weeks." Her eyes finally meet mine, and the conflict I see there makes my chest ache. "If I accept."

"If?"

She glances toward the dining room, where my family's laughter drifts through the doorway. "It's complicated."

"Because of my family?" I ask. "They don't know yet. About us not being real."

She winces slightly at the word 'real.' "That's part of it."

"And the other part?" I press. "Is it because of what's been happening since that kiss?"

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