Sexy Stranger
Page 28I was, I knew, a daughter of privilege. I had no student loans and no debt to speak of, a fancy car I hadn’t paid for myself, and a black credit card I could whip out at a moment’s notice.
But at what cost?
My mother’s indignation when I made a choice she didn’t like. My father’s continued disapproval. The expectation that I would continue in their footsteps by marrying well and raising children who would live sheltered, privileged lives just like mine, with a history of cold boarding schools and even chillier romances.
And the more I thought about it, the more I realized it wasn’t a price I was willing to pay.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Luke
It had been three days since Charlotte had left, and in all that time I hadn’t bothered to leave the barn.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The day she left, Duke had taken me into town and I’d gotten shit-faced drunk. Then I spent the next day in bed, pretending to be hung over, but I was really just heartbroken.
Now, though? Now, I was determined. Throwing myself into my work seemed to be the best distraction I could find.
Our first public unveiling would take place in a month, and there was still so much to do, so many events to plan. My face was rough with unshaven stubble and my eyes were dark with exhaustion, but in the end, I knew it would be worth it. The barn would house more than just a distillery—it would be a hometown tasting room complete with special lighting and ambience, all the touches that Charlotte had so carefully laid out for us.
If only I didn’t see her face . . . feel her touch . . . smell her hair every second of the day.
She’d come up with half the specialty mixes for the tasting bar, the ideas for the whiskey-barrel pub tables, and the burlap coasters with the branded design on them. Even as I strung the lights from the rafters, I could recall the way she’d laughed at me when I asked why it mattered so much that we got Edison bulbs instead of twinkling Christmas lights.
“See?” she’d said. “This is why you need me.”
I ran my hand over my scraggly beard, then climbed down from the ladder and snapped a few shots. Soon, I’d be sending off my ideas to investors to see if we could expand the barn—make it into a full-scale grand destination. Something for parties and weddings.
That, I realized with a thud of my heart, had been Charlotte’s idea too.
A light knock sounded against the door behind me, and I turned to find my sister leaning against the door frame.
The place was pretty impressive. I’d built the tasting bar myself, and had already arranged four of the sixteen bar stools that would be clustered around the wide oak-barrel tables. A lantern sat in the center of each table, and as I flipped a switch, the soft light of the Edison bulbs overhead let me know that Charlotte had been right. The soft yellow glow made all the difference, especially on a rainy day like today.
“You like it?” I asked.
“I think it’s perfect.” Molly nodded. “Looks like you had help, though.”
I cleared my throat, trying to sound casual. “Charlotte ordered most of it before she left. I just had to set the place up.”
“If only she could see it now,” Molly said with a pointed look. “I bet she wouldn’t believe it’s the same barn you showed her around before.”
“Well, she did have a soft spot for the place.”
“She’d be proud.”
“Yeah, I bet she would.”
Molly slid onto one of the stools in front of the tasting bar. “Hey, make me a Little Wilder, huh?”
I made quick work of mixing her drink, and when I passed it her way, she lifted the glass slightly.
“This one was your idea, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“I can tell. Traditional old-fashioned with a little twist of something modern.”
“Look, Molly—”
She held up a hand to silence me. “I’m not trying to influence you one way or another. Your life is your business,” she said with a little sigh. “But if you ask for my opinion, on the other hand—”
“Which you haven’t, but if you did, I would tell you what I really thought.” She took a sip of her drink and waited, knowing that I’d have to ask.
“Fine. What do you think?”
“I think you’ve been a miserable prick since Charlotte left, and you let her go for no good reason.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Is that all?”
“She hasn’t posted even a single Instagram pic since we all when to What the Cluck. I’m thinking she’s probably pretty miserable too.”
“In Los Angeles? A girl like her? I doubt it,” I said, although my selfish heart lifted at the thought that she might miss me. That even some small portion of her was hurting the way I’d been hurting—even though she couldn’t possibly be as haunted by my absence as I was by hers.
“I think you were too quick to judge her,” Molly said.
I shrugged. “You weren’t with us all the time.”
Molly sat down her drink with a thunk and waggled a finger at me. “I was with you enough, and I’ve been around you all your life. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. I saw what happened at the party.”
“What do you—”
“I was in the corner talking to Dana French, and I heard Charlotte tell you to ask her to stay.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. “I asked for your opinion, not a recounting of the facts.”
“Fine, then, here’s my opinion. You’re a dumbass.”
“Molly—”
“You forget that I knew Sarah. I was going to be the maid of honor at your wedding. I was there when Dad . . .” Molly cleared her throat and gathered herself before she continued. “I was only around Charlotte for a week, but I’m here to tell you that while you do have a definite type, those two are most certainly not interchangeable people. Charlotte would never have left you like that, without a word right after Dad died. Sarah was self-involved and entitled. Charlotte isn’t like that.”
“Look around this room,” Molly said simply. “You didn’t pay her for this. Charlotte helped you out of the goodness of her heart, and she never once told you to give up.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that she’d never be happy in Shady Grove,” I said, although my argument sounded feeble, even to me.
“You never know anything until you try. And you? You’re afraid of trying.” Molly shoved off her stool, then pulled the hood of her rain jacket over her head. “Look, I have a feeling that no matter what I say, you’re going to have some argument for me, so I’m not going to waste my breath. I only came to tell you that a letter came today from an investor who saw your pictures online. He’s coming to see the place next week.”
A little thrill of excitement ran through me, but it did nothing to assuage the guilt and turmoil borne by everything Molly had said. What followed was a tiny grain of something like hope.
“Don’t work yourself to death in here,” Molly added, then hunched over and hurried out into the rain.
I glanced at her half-empty glass and then reached for my phone. Scrolling through my contacts, I opened Charlotte’s information and stared at it, my thumb hovering over the Call button for what felt like the hundredth time.
Logically, I knew it was better to cut things off with her cold turkey. But after everything, Molly had said . . .
I shoved the phone back in my pocket and headed for my truck, my head whirling with everything that needed to be done before the investor showed up. It also spun with all the reasons I shouldn’t pull out my phone and see if Molly was right.
To see if Charlotte missed me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
On my second day at Valentina’s, I summoned my courage and picked up my phone, finding another slew of missed calls and texts.
None, I noticed, were from Luke.
I was going to have to deal with the emotions that came along with that soon enough, and I was dreading it. But there were other things that needed tending to as well. Things I felt more sure of with every passing minute.