Page 133 of When Fate Breaks
“Goodbye, Apple Jacks,” Remy insists, making his exit.
“Goodbye, Remy. I’ll be watching the door hit you on your way out.”
Remy pokes his head back inside the door just before it closes, a self-satisfied expression on his face. “As long as you’re watching,” he smiles, raising his brows, before disappearing.
I immediately turn around once the door closes, slumping down behind the counter. I shove my hands into my hair as I hear the rumble of Remy’s truck pulling out of the parking lot and wait for the customers I know probably won’t be coming. Not until something changes.
I always get what I want.
As much as I never thought I could give two shits about what Remy Van der Michael wants in life…we unfortunately seem to want the same thing. I want the store to succeed. He wants to make that happen. That’sdefinitelyall he wants…
Right?
It doesn’t matter, because that’s all he’ll ever get out of me.
I don’t take no for an answer.
I shake my head. My fingers suddenly feel itchy, and I pull my cell phone from my apron, unlocking it.
No new messages.
I let out a sigh, pressing the lock button. When the screen goes black, I’m left only with my reflection in the glass. I really look at myself for the first time in a while, taking in my dull complexion and tired, sunken under eyes.
You shouldn’t have to be so sad all the time. You don’t deserve it.
I’d never even given myself time in the last six months to stop and think about the way I was feeling. Never allowed myself to sum up the constant pain in my chest and swirl of my brain and heaviness of my eyes to being something as simple as sadness. I especially didn’t ever stop to think if I deserved to feel this way. It’s just how things were; it was just the hand I had been dealt. Life was one unfair bitch, and who was I to question her? But, I couldn’t help but think,did anybody truly deserve to be sad all the time?
I try with everything in me for the rest of the morning to not think about how Remy, in his own way, might just be right.
About it all.
27
PRESENT DAY
Igrab my heels from the floorboards before hopping out of Leah’s truck, giving her a small smile and wave as the door falls shut. I didn’t tell her what happened at the wedding shower, but she knows something is up.Of course. Thankfully, she decided to spare me after only the third time she begged me for details and I declined to share, promising her that I was just tired and that it’d been a long day.
As awful as it sounds, I’m so thankful to her and the other bridesmaids for deciding against having a post-party sleepover over at the house. Steph headed back to her hotel near the airport at the same time my dad left, needing to fly back to Texas first thing in the morning to coach a game, and Riya, Carmen, and Madeline all opted to stay a little closer by at the local bed and breakfast; Leah obviously just planned to just go to her own home. Though I initially tried to talk them all out of staying anywhere other than with me, I’m very happy now to have lost the battle. I love them all to death, but I couldn’t handle any more tonight.
I raise my hands above my head to shield myself from the light sprinkles of rain that are now turning to a heavy downpour as Leah pulls out of the driveway and I begin to make my way towards the house.
Remy had wanted to go out after the shower, but I just didn’t have the energy in me to join him. Not that he’d even technically invited me. Regardless, he didn’t seem that let down that I opted to catch a ride home with Leah instead, happy to have a night out with the boys. The back of my mind tells me that I should probably have more thoughts about the situation, but the front of my mind is simply too full to let that thought in right now.
As I approach the front door, something pulls my attention to the gate leading to the backyard. I slow my pace, turning my head in its direction. The rain picks up even more and I start to turn to go back to the front door, but stop, something continuing to draw me to the gate. I tip-toe up to it, pressing my ear flat against the tall dark wood. I don’t hear any obvious noise coming from the yard or greenhouse, but my curiosity still gets the better of me. I pull back, moving to unlatch the gate and notice that one of the hinges is broken.
That’s weird.
I push the gate open slowly and skip quietly across the short distance of the yard needed to enter the cover of the greenhouse. I set my heels down when I get inside, shaking out the wetness of my hair and pushing it out of my face. Once I do so, my mouth falls open. I haven’t been inside the greenhouse in days and had no idea the amount of work Blake had managed to do in that time. Though it’s still missing the plants, the place is an absolute work of art.
Rain plinks off the glass ceiling tiles as I make my way further inside, admiring the details. I stare at the beautifully polished tile floor under my feet as I stroll between a row of beautiful handmade potting tables, slowing down to run a finger along one.
I freeze, suddenly hearing the latch of a door behind me. I don’t turn around, my gaze staying on the table and my back to the presence that just entered the greenhouse. I also don’t say anything, two sets of breathing being the only sound filling the space.
“Evangeline,” Blake says, finally breaking the silence, his tone indiscernible.
“Hi,” I reply flatly, not meeting his eyes and continuing to trace the table.
I hear the door fall shut and feel him move further into the room. “Hi,” he says, echoing me.
