Page 36 of The Fake Fiance's Billionaire Adversary
“Kinda.” Reagan snorted and quickly covered her mouth with her hand.
“I knew it.” She smiled.
Reagan loved every one of the pieces Carrie Anne had chosen. They were cute, clean, and, most of all, new. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she’d bought new clothes. She’d spent all of the Black Friday money on Hunter and his family rather than herself. “Are you sure you’re okay giving these things to me? Gabby might be able to wear them.”
Carrie Anne’s eyebrows reached her hairline. “She hates this color. Likes it on me, but she won’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.”
“Thank you,” Reagan said and picked up a soft chenille sweater, slipping it on. She ran her hand down the arm and sighed. “It’s so soft. I love it.”
“Well, let’s go for that walk, and when we get back, we’ll put the rest in your room.”
“Okay. That sounds good to me.”
Carrie Anne hooked her arm in Reagan’s, and they talked as they walked until they hit the front steps. Reagan took a deep breath and nearly melted. It was much warmer than it had been; there was a crisp, clean scent in the air; and it was so quiet. Normally, she would have missed the ocean, but right then, the silence was soothing.
“Do you have a directional preference?” Carrie Anne asked, dropping her arm from Reagan’s.
“Nope, I’m with you.”
“All right, then.” Carrie Anne smiled.
They got to the end of the drive and turned left. For a good stretch, they just walked. Carrie Anne didn’t ask any questions, and Reagan didn’t try to start small talk. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d needed to feel that someone was beside her. Someone not dragging her along but letting her go at her own pace.
“Feeling better?” Carrie Anne asked and glanced at Reagan.
She nodded. “Actually, yeah.”
With a nod, Carrie Anne said, “I thought you needed it. I’m sorry about your bed and breakfast. I can’t imagine how that hurts.”
“Yeah, me too. Don’t tell Hunter, but he has no idea how grateful I am that he’s helping with the roof.” Not just the roof, but other little things he’d failed to mention without asking her. It was really sweet because she’d been so angry with him, and there he was, being even sweeter. “I wish I didn’t need the help.”
Carrie Anne waved her off. “Oh, everyone needs help sometimes.”
Reagan balled her fists in the sweater and hugged herself. “I know, but I seem to need it all the time.”
“Yeah, my grandpa, Grandma Jo’s husband, said people go through seasons. Sometimes, the person going through the hardship isn’t going through it for them. Sometimes they’re going through it for someone else who needs it.” Carrie Anne sighed. “I always said it didn’t seem fair, and, believe me, it’s never easy. This was when I got my braces and had to wear headgear for two whole years…starting in seventh grade. I had a crush on Tex Carter. Oh, girl, I thought he’d hung the moon and stars.”
“What happened?” asked Reagan.
“That little turkey started making fun of me the second the bell rang. One day I lost it and popped him square on the nose. Of course, I was the one who got in trouble. I was hurt and mad and sad and every other emotion you could imagine. Mom and Dad chewed me raw, and I was grounded for what felt like an eternity at the time.” Carrie Anne chuckled. “One of my punishments was to pull weeds from my grandparents' flower beds, and my grandpa sat right there with me while I pulled them. We’d talk and talk when I did that.”
Reagan glanced at her. “How long was your punishment?”
“Oh, six weeks, but I liked talking to my grandpa. After all the weeds were gone, I’d pretend to pull them, and he’d sit outside with me. He turned it into our special thing, and I loved it. I learned so much from him.” Carrie Anne rubbed her eyes, and Reagan smiled. “I’m not misty-eyed. It’s dirt.” She laughed.
“Sure.” Reagan worked to keep the smile hidden and cleared her throat. “That sounds like a good memory. My family has owned that bed and breakfast for generations. My great-great-grandparents opened it, and that’s all she wrote.” Reagan’s thoughts whirled with memories of her family, how they worked and toiled for that bed and breakfast. “I don’t remember having time like that. As soon as I learned to cook, I was put in the kitchen.”
Carrie Anne nodded and looked at her. “Reagan, do you want to own that bed and breakfast? I mean, when you took over, did you ever question it?”
Mid-stride, Reagan stopped dead. That had never been a question. It was just what happened. When her parents considered retiring, she was the one going to take it over. There was nothing else presented. No options. “No. I mean, no, I was never asked. I do love it, but sometimes, I get so tired of it. But it’s all I’ve ever known. Everything I am. My very being is attached to that house.”
Reagan inhaled a ragged breath and braced her hands on her knees. She’d never even considered that there could be another option. It was a multiple-choice question, and all she’d seen was one answer. Before she knew it, tears were gushing.
Carrie Anne wrapped her arms around Reagan. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to upset you. Oh, I feel awful.”
Her insides were so tangled it was making her stomach hurt. What was she going to do now? Her answer to running the bed and breakfast was always the same: she loved it. But did she? “It’s not your fault.”
“You’re not that bed and breakfast, though. You can love something, feel immensely attached to it, but it’s not you.” Carrie Anne leaned back. “Can I ask what made you think you were?”
