Page 27 of Safe With Me
“You do not.”
“That’s a relief.”
We finished up our food, or rather Scott finished up his food since I was too on edge to take another bite. We set out for the office, and I felt a heavy gaze on me until the park was out of sight. I tried not to think about it.
The gifts continued to arrive on my porch . . . a pair of great snips, more plants, a buttery soft set of gardening gloves. No notes, no texts, and I never saw him, simply the slow drip of personal presents.
With each one, I hardened my heart.
In the evenings, I worked on designing sprays and wreaths for my home and the office. One night, sketching cedar fronds around a frame, I wondered if Mrs. Sue Calvert would be interested in letting me sell any through her floral shop. She was doing the centerpieces for Scott’s annual Thanksgiving night holiday kick-off party. That could be an option . . .
I hadn’t gotten out much all week, simply staying home and licking the wounds I didn’t want to acknowledge existed. Yoga and Zumba at the gym were off limits because Elizabeth took them, so I worked out at home. In the mornings, I skipped the coffee shop, sipping my own brew to buy a few extra minutes working on my florals.
So Friday caught me by surprise. I was excited to go out with Schyler. At least, I told myself I was. We’d settled on meeting at the Hickory House for dinner because he loved BBQ. I took extra care with my hair and makeup, and looking good felt good, too.
Swiping on my Dark Honey lipgloss, I made a kissy face at the mirror.
You never knew . . . Schyler Wainwright might be my future husband.
Hannah Hall Wainwright had a nice sound to it, especially since I’d buried Hannah Hall Edwards as deep as I could.
I only had to wait on him five minutes after I pulled into the packed parking lot. He swung out of his truck, and I met him at the back of my SUV.
“Hey.” He thrust a small posy of grocery store flowers at me, and I took them with a smile. They weren’t field-cut dahlias, but the impersonal nature didn’t faze me. He just didn’t know his possible future wife yet.
The Hickory House was loud as always, voices bouncing off the concrete floor. The noise faded for a breath as we entered. We didn’t receive the traditional “Welcome to Hickory House,” but they were wildly busy and we were lucky to find a table near the middle just emptying out.
Schyler dropped into the chair across from me, and I pulled out my own while he picked up one of the menus that always sat on the tables. Used to be, you’d order when you came in the door, but that had turned out to be wildly inefficient.
He split his attention between my face and the menu. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week, and not just for the food.”
Setting my clutch on the chair next to me, I smiled. He was sweet.
Mrs. Gail approached our table, the hardness in her eyes stopping my smile cold. “Honey, you’re gonna have to find somewhere else to go.”
Confused, I darted a look at Schyler, then back at Mrs. Gail. “Excuse me?”
“You ought to be ashamed. Don’t know how you can show your face.” Mrs. Gail harrumphed. “Bet your mama is mortified.”
What in the world? Schyler only looked at me, menu forgotten, and a deadly quiet fell in the always-raucous restaurant.
I moistened my lips. “I don’t understand.”
“Your sister is a sweet girl. She does not deserve what you’ve done.” Mrs. Gail crossed her arms beneath her impressive bosom. Behind her, a couple of girls younger than me had their phones out, capturing the whole scene. My stomach knotted and dropped to the concrete floor. “And that Hatcher boy . . . well, shooting’s too good for him.”
She – the whole restaurant – was angry at me and at Jase. With a sickening foreboding, I pictured Elizabeth’s furious face, her coldmake you regret this.
I was suddenly sure she had, maybe in a way I couldn’t come back from.
“It’s time for you to go.” Mrs. Gail jerked her head toward the door. “Law says we can refuse service, and we’re not serving the likes of you.”
Humiliation burning me inside out, my cheeks flaming, I met Schyler’s shocked gaze. “We should go.”
He headed for the door first. I trailed behind him, and an actual smattering of applause followed me. Scalding tears scorched my eyes. I blinked so I could see the path to my SUV.
At his truck, Schyler held up his hands. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I–”
“It’s fine.” He definitely wasn’t my future husband if he couldn’t even ask my side before bailing on me.
