Page 116 of Unexpected Ever After

I would have asked if we could video meet, but I knew that wouldn’t do. I knew these people, and only me seeing them in person would give them the confidence to proceed. And I knew once I got to Seattle there would be no going back. The world would know where I was, and every piece of that life would grab onto me, need me, turn me into theirs and not hers.

I’d played it a thousand different ways. I could come back for a few days, maybe, extend my time with Winona. Or I could bring her with me. God how I dreamed of that.

But if I did that, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to leave her side. I could tank the deal even if I was there, and if she were there, I might not even care.

In the end, it wasn’t altruism that got me telling Sal to have the jet fueled and waiting for me in Greenville tomorrow morning.

It was my mother.

My mother’s face had been what I’d seen when I’d launched my research foundation five years ago. It was her face, with its benign smile, that I saw now, when I considered ignoring that email. The “I’m sorry. Have we met?” The pain of her being there but gone.

I had the power to save people from that fate with the tech we’d developed. Was I really so selfish that I’d deny them that to spend more precious hours with Winona?

Yes. If she asked me to, yes. I would. I’d burn everything down for her.

But she’d never let me.

She also wouldn’t come with me. Her life was here, and as she’d told me more about this collective, her face had lit up with hope and promise. It was her calling. She’d thought everything out. She was ready to leap, even if she didn’t know it yet.

And I couldn’t be the reason she didn’t do it.

I’d already lined up a lawyer for her, to help navigate the technical registration. I’d found the best one nearby, up in Montpelier, and had paid them enough to cover her costs for the next five years.

I was going to tell Winona tonight, just like I was going to tell her about the text, and how by this time tomorrow, I’d be gone.

“What do you want to eat?” I asked her, running my thumb along her cheekbone, trying to memorize every contour, every angle. “More Thai?”

She laughed. “No. Though it would be fun to see Arthit again.”

I snarled, grabbing her by the shoulders and planting a possessive kiss on her.

She shoved off from me and for a moment, looked almost nervous. She pursed her lips, then said, “There’s a local place in town. Betsey’s. They’re open late on the weekend. They make the best club sandwich you’ve ever tasted. Crispy local bacon, plump red tomatoes. Sourdough so tangy your face puckers up like this”—she made an adorable face like she’d sucked on a lemon.

I would have laughed, but I felt like my heart was cracking in two.

“I’m craving Betsey’s.”

“As you wish,” I said, brushing the hair back from her forehead. “Anita!”

But Winona shook her head, putting her fingers on my lips. I kissed them, on instinct. “No. Take me there, Mitch.”

My chest clenched. She knew I hadn’t gone anywhere since I’d been here. Seven months I’d been in this place and I’d never once stepped off the grounds. But I nodded. “Okay.”

I think that’s how she knew I was leaving.

Her eyes went wet and she kissed me, so soft and tenderly, I felt my own throat tighten as I wrapped my arms around her.

A half hour later, after we’d both showered and dressed—and she hadn’t let me shower with her—we were in the car I’d apparently bought with the house. “Might as well drive it at least once, right?” I said.

It was a McLaren 765LT, and Winona shrieked when the doors opened up like wings. Once inside, she pressed her hands against the seats and looked at me with a smile as I hit the ignition. “Can we go for a drive please? Just once?”

I nodded, taking her hand before flying from the garage and out onto the road.

It was a beautiful evening, with the sun just over the horizon as we flew through the winding highway, leaves swirling behind us like a wake.

Winona was as giddy as a schoolgirl, and it wasn’t until I pulled over at a viewpoint high up on the hills, where we’d come out to sit on the hood of the ridiculous vehicle, that I told her about the text.

“Tomorrow, huh?” she said, not looking at me.

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