Page 153 of When We Were Us
She looks up at me, her features anxious and somber, but presses a kiss to my lips. “I’ll be right back.”
I nod and watch her go, scrubbing a hand over my face.
Jesus, this is excruciating.
It doesn’t take long before she’s back at my side, taking her bag and lacing her fingers through mine.
The click of the overhead speaker crackles to life and the voice of an attendant comes through, just beyond the security station. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will now begin boarding for flight 645 at Gate 2B to Sonoma.”
“I guess I should go,” she says, and I nod. When she turns her face up to mine, her eyes are swimming with tears.
When I try to speak, my voice catches in my throat. So, I haul her against me instead, wrapping her up in my arms and breathing her in. I can feel her trembling slightly and I run a hand over her back.
“Have a safe flight, ok?” I murmur into her hair, and I feel her nod against me as both of her hands fist my jacket at my lower back. “I love you, Wren.”
She tips her chin up and I press my mouth to hers, her salty tears mixing with the sweetest, most agonizing kiss of my life. Then, I crush her to me again.
“I love you, Hank.”
I let out a long, ragged breath and watch as it ruffles her hair. “Please come back to me, Wrennie Girl.” My voice is a hoarse whisper against her ear before I press another kiss to her temple.
She sniffles and nods, the movement jerky. Her voice cracks on half sob, half whisper as she says, “I will.”
I capture her mouth for one more kiss before we break apart. She squeezes my hand once and walks away. I stuff my hands into my pockets and clench my jaw. My eyes burn.
With one last tearful glance over her shoulder, she turns the corner and she’s gone. It hits me like a steel toe boot to the gut. I’ve just watched the only woman I’ve ever loved walk away from me. Again.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
wrenley
It’s a beautiful,crisp morning in Napa. It’s cool for mid-October. Usually, the leaves are just starting their slow journey from green to yellow, orange, and red this time of year. However, this morning, the trees across from the condo Derek and I shared are a riot of color against a cloudless blue sky.
Standing on the balcony, I can see miles and miles of vineyards. The view was one of the things I’d loved most about this place when we’d bought it. That and the open-concept kitchen, brushed concrete floors, bright white cabinetry, and soaring ceilings. It was perfect.
Now, though, all I see is the shell of the place I once spent hours picking out rugs, window coverings, and coordinating artwork to fill the walls for. Although, as I look around, I’m not sad about it. Nothing but a sense of finality fills me.
Boxes are stacked against the walls and furniture is grouped together by Derek intokeepanddonatespaces. I don’t want any of it. My things are neatly packed into boxes and lining the wall by the front door, awaiting the movers. When looking around this place now, I can’t see one single thing that appeals to me.
I’ve been back in California for three weeks and standing here in the stark white and black ofthe modern condo, I long for the quiet coziness of Hank’s cabin.Ourcabin. The warm, coffee-cream walls and the hardwoods that creak just a little more when cold. The wind rustling through so many trees and the crackle of the fire on cool autumn nights. That scratchy wool blanket and the heaviness of his grandmother’s quilt on the bed.
The tiny shower that he insisted we squeeze into every morning under the guise that we’d use less water if we showered together because, “don’t you know there’s a drought in Montana?”
There isn’t.
I smile at the memory and my mind drifts to our last morning together. The sound of rain on the roof as we made love one last time, our fingers laced together on the pillow above my head, with Hank nestled between my thighs. The pine pole headboard’s steady bump against the wall, and the whispered “I love you” against my ear when he came. His sleepy smile and scruffy chin as he’d kissed me. It’s a memory that will be imprinted on my mind forever.
My grandparents’ house has been under contract for just under two weeks, with closing in another two. Finnley and Hutch have already been out there several times to discuss what she’s thinking in terms of design and for him to draw up sketches and eventual plans.
Since Finnley wasn’t able to qualify for a business loan on her own, Hudson came on as a silent partner and provided the upfront capital for her. He’ll have a financial stake in the business, but since he’s in New York, Finn will handle the renovations and the daily operations once the bed-and-breakfast is up and running.
The condo goes on the market in two days and the movers are coming this afternoon to move Derek’s things out and my things into Ginger’s garage. The staging professionals from the real estate company come tomorrow to hopefully help us get as much out of the condo as we can. I couldn't care less about that; I just want to be rid of this whole mess so I can go back to my life in Timber Forge.
Derek hadn’t had the decency to just buy me out of the condo, which would have made this process go a whole lot faster. I don’t know why I expected anything less than difficulty, since he’s been downright nasty about everything and has made even the simplest decision harder than it has to be.
Because of what happened when he came to the ranch, I obviously didn't feel comfortable working with Derek without my lawyer present. At least I don’t have to deal with him directly now. However, every time something needs negotiating, my lawyer is made to jump through hoops to get it arranged just so.
It should be pretty cut and dry. Since Derek is keeping his end of the business running, it's taken some time to get all the equipment and shared physical business assets appraised. Splitting up whatever liquid assets the business has is the easy part. To protect myself, I had asked for a court-ordered dissolution. Given the circumstances, I wasn’t willing to settle for any less than what I deserved. I wanted what was fair, and that was half of everything.
