I should be able to do all of that.
But here I was, pouring another two fingers of amber liquid into my glass, hiding away. I was a weak coward.
Chapter Eleven – Alex
The bed-and-breakfast was quiet when I slowly pried my bedroom door open. No one lurked in the hallway as I made my way down to the kitchen. I passed by an oversized antique mirror that hung in the hallway across from the formal living room. Squinting at my appearance, I took in my red eyes and dry skin—all a result of no sleep and too much wine. That red liquid had been my therapist late last night, and I was so lost in the one-sided conversation that I missed the sound of Nate coming back inside. Or maybe he didn’t at all.
Glancing over my shoulder, I verified that the front door was locked. So he had at least gone to bed at some point.
With one last scan of my clothes, the Sunny Brook Farms T-shirt and cutoff denim shorts were going to have to do. My hair was haphazardly placed in a messy bun on my head, loose strands curling around my face. I was so out of it I didn’t even apply any makeup this morning, just some sunscreen. There was no hiding the hangover that loomed over me like a dark cloud of remorse.
Today was going to be a struggle; that was for sure. Not to mention the weird conversation with Nate last night. I knew he treasured his friendship with my brother. I did as well. But I couldn’t help that I wanted one more night with him, even though that wasn’t my normal MO. But even that seemed like too much to ask from him. I was just going to have to wallow in my attraction to him from afar. Because it was clear, he would not do anything to mess up his friendship with Andrew.
My phone nestled in my back pocket rang, and I quickly pulled it out while I headed toward the kitchen so as to not wake anyone in the house.
My poor mood quickly reversed when I saw my best friend’s name light up the screen.
“Tami!”
She and I had been inseparable since the age of three, when we met in dance class. We’d been together through the tragedy of her parents’ divorce, boyfriends and breakups, and the gaslighting and emotional abuse at the hands of my ex.
Tami traveled the world as a flight attendant. It was the perfect job for her. She loved the drama club in high school, being on stage and all that entailed. Tami thought of every flight as a new audience. She also loved meeting new people and always brought back the best keepsakes from her journeys abroad.
“Hey, Lexi!” Tami was the only one I allowed to call me Lexi. Other close friends tried, but Tami shot them down.
“Are you home?” She just spent the last two weeks in South America after a few international flights she’d been assigned to.
“I got in last night. Jetlag is a killer, so I’m wide awake.”
“Well, I’ll be at the market this morning if you’re looking for something to do.”
“Oh, that’s right. Sounds fun. Maybe Mrs. Hensen will do something off the wall.”
Packing myself a small lunch to have while I was at the stand, I told Tami about last week’s mischief with Mrs. Hensen and how she’d be expecting more bumpy cucumbers today. The twins picked some great ones yesterday.
I thought about telling her that Nate was the guy I slept with over a year ago. But that was the kind of reaction I wanted to see in person.
We ended the call, and I felt slightly better overall. Tami always had that effect on me, and I did for her as well.
Grabbing my bag and keys, I left in my truck. I usually drove her every day, but since I was covering for Autumn, she’d been holed up in the garage. I didn’t care what anyone thought; your vehicle performed better when she was given special attention. A fresh wash and vacuum, some detailing, and a daily drive made my girl run like a dream.
This morning, she puttered and spat like I did when I hadn’t had any coffee yet. But once she got on the main road leading to my parents’ farm, she woke up a little more. With the window down, because there was no AC, I let the fresh mountain air sweep over me. It smelled of dew and grass. At this early hour, farmers were out harvesting or planting, always working. I was 100 percent certain my father was already off in the far field getting ready for the day with the farmhands who lived on the property.
A smile graced my lips as I turned into the main drive of Sunny Brook Farms and headed toward the back of the farmhouse. Just as I approached the front of the house, I noticed a tiny figure sitting on the stairs. Alarmed, I shoved the truck into park and hopped out, my door hanging wide open in my escape.
It didn’t take me long to figure out which twin sat hunched over with a tear-stained face.
“Eloise, sweetie? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I asked as I dashed over and crouched in front of her. With shaking hands, I ran them over her head and body, checking for any cuts or blood.
The little girl sobbed again as she wrapped her arms around my neck, unable to answer my questions. I lifted her up and ran my hand over her back, doing my best to comfort her. It was obvious she was upset. Was her father and sister inside? I was so confused.
“Eloise, I need you to tell me what happened. Is your family inside?”
Sniffling, she wiped her nose on my shoulder, but I didn’t care about the shirt. My concern was the four-year-old alone at my parents’ house.
“They’re still sleeping. I wanted to see the sun wake up, and no one was awake. Daddy says I’m a big girl.”
“But how did you get here?”
