Page 85 of Cherished Lands
"I can't let him win," she whispered against my shirt. "I can't let him destroy everything we've built."
I knew she was thinking about that damn manila folder that would save our cidery but destroyherfamily's legacy. The impossible choice her father had forced on her.
Eventually, her tears slowed and exhaustion took her over. I carried her up to our bed, not bothering to undress either of us. She curled into my side, her breathing finally evening out as sleep claimed her.
But I lay awake, holding my wife and watching dusk creep across our ceiling. Tomorrow, she'd have to choose between her past and our future. Between loyalty to her family's legacy and protection of our dreams.
And there wasn't a damn thing I could do to help her make that choice.
I kissed her temple, breathing in the soothing scent of hershampoo and hoping like hell that we'd be strong enough to face whatever tomorrow brought. That this connection between us—this marriage, this love—couldn't be broken by Ray fucking Belmonte.
Chapter Thirty
TESSA
I woke to an empty bed.Elliot's side was cold—he'd probably been up for hours, dealing with the fallout from Judge Matthews' ruling. The formal order had arrived by courier late last night, officially halting all construction on the cidery.
My phone buzzed. Not Elliot. Not Elena.
Mom.
MOM
The Bean Counter. 1 hour. Come alone.
I sat up, head spinning. Mom hadn't contacted me since that day she'd brought the files to the Everton house.
MOM
Please.
That single word hit like a ton of bricks. In thirty-one years, I'd never seen my mother beg for anything.
TESSA
Okay.
Elliot was in the kitchen, staring into a cup of coffee like it held answers. He looked up when I entered, revealing dark circles under his eyes.
"Mom wants to meet," I said, reaching for my own mug. "At The Bean Counter."
"Want me to come?"
"She said to come alone." I poured coffee and clutched the mug to my chest with both hands. "Maybe she has a solution we haven't thought of."
"Or maybe it's a trap." He stood, coming to wrap his arms around me from behind. "Your father?—"
"Wouldn't know to look for her there." I leaned back against his chest, drinking in his solid warmth. "He never comes into town. Thinks it's beneath him."
"Just be careful."
I turned in his embrace, rising on tiptoes to kiss him. "Always am."
I drove toward downtown Sable Point half an hour later. The Bean Counter sat wedged between Callaghan's and a real estate office. Its faded green awning and brass bell above the door hadn't changed since I was a kid. A comforting constant in a world that felt increasingly unstable. The scent of fresh-baked scones and coffee wrapped around me like a hug as I entered.
Mom sat in the furthest corner booth, shoulders tight with tension as she scanned the room. She wore a simple sweater and slacks instead of her usual designer suits, like she wastrying to blend in. It didn't work. Even in casual clothes, Margaret Belmonte could never quite hide her careful polish.
"The cranberry orange scones here are amazing," I said, sliding into the booth across from her. "Better than that fancy French bakery you used to drive an hour to visit."
