Page 101 of Under Southern Stars
“When?” The naked plea in his voice almost breaks through my carefully maintained composure.
“I don’t know.” I look straight ahead, focusing on Madison’s animated gestures as she talks with Emma. “I need time to process…all of this.”
“Of course,” he says, defeat evident in his tone. “Whatever you need.”
The tour continues, with Helen proudly showcasing the winery operations, the temperature-controlled storage caves, the tasting rooms where visitors sample McKenzie Estate’s award-winning Pinot Noir. The scale is staggering—not just a business but a small empire that has clearly been built over generations.
By the time we reach the guest house—a “simple” structure that is larger and more luxurious than any home I’ve ever lived in—I am emotionally exhausted from maintaining my facade of polite interest.
“We thought you and Madison would be comfortable here,” Helen says, gesturing to the guest house. “It has its own kitchen, though you’re expected at the main house for meals, of course. Jackson’s cottage is just beyond those trees.”
The assumption that we would be staying separately should have bothered me, but at that moment, I am actually grateful. I need space from Jack, from this whole situation.
“Thank you,” I say. “It looks lovely.”
Madison appears at my side, her eyes bright with excitement. “Mom, can I have the room with the mountain view? Emma says it’s incredible!”
“Of course,” I say, forcing a smile for her sake.
“I’ll help you with your bags,” Jack offers, clearly searching for any opportunity to speak with me alone.
“That’s not necessary,” I say coolly. “I’m sure one of the staff can assist us.”
Hurt flashes across his face, but he nods. “Of course. Whatever you prefer.”
Helen beams, oblivious to the tension. “Well! I’ll leave you to settle in. Dinner is at seven in the family dining room. Nothing formal, just the immediate family.”
As they depart—Jack lingering until I pointedly turn away—I finally allow myself a moment of vulnerability. My hands are trembling, and I clasp them tightly to hide it from Madison.
“Isn’t this AMAZING?” she enthuses, spinning in a circle in the guest house’s spacious living room. “Jack’s family is like…I don’t even know! It’s like we’re in a movie or something!”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“The WiFi password is on the coffee table,” she continues, already tapping at her phone. “I’m going to FaceTime Chloe. She’s never going to believe this!”
As Madison disappears into her chosen bedroom, I sink onto a nearby chair, finally alone with my thoughts.
The carefully constructed image of Jack McKenzie—Jackson Charles McKenzie—I’d carried in my heart shatters into a thousand pieces. The humble paramedic with the charming accent. The man who brings me coffee. Who taught Madison to make pasta. Who looked at me like I hung the moon.
Was any of it real?
The familiar sensation of betrayal washes over me, bitter and nauseating. I’d been here before with Troy—that gradual realization that the person I’d given my heart to wasn’t who I thought they were. Different circumstances, same gut-wrenching feeling of having been played for a fool.
Tears burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I am Sophia Mitchell, charge nurse at Metro General, who handles the worst without breaking a sweat. I’m not going to crumble.
But a small, wounded part of me whispers:You did it again. You trusted the wrong man. When will you learn?
I stare out the window at the perfectly manicured grounds, the mountains rising majestically in the distance, feeling more alone than I had in years.
And somewhere beyond those trees is Jack—Jackson—in his private cottage on his family’s multi-million dollar estate, waiting for me to process a betrayal I am not sure I can forgive.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
JACK
The guest house door closes behind Sophia and Madison with a quiet finality. I stand frozen on the path, the mountain air suddenly chilling despite the afternoon sun.
She couldn’t even look at me. Couldn’t bear to be in the same room.
