Page 16 of Deal Breaker
Not from Ford.
Not from the life I owe her. The life she deserves.
I know I need to figure out a way to tell Ford about Poppy, and I need to do it soon, before the truth comes out in a way neither of us is ready for.
I smooth the blanket higher over her tiny shoulders thenstand and back out of the room, leaving the door cracked just enough so that I’ll hear her if she wakes.
Resting my forehead against the door frame, I realize something terrifying. Coming back to Deep Cove hasn’t quieted the ache inside my heart. It’s only made it impossible to ignore.
EIGHT
Landyn
Late afternoon sunlight spills through the windows of my bedroom as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, hair half-pinned up, a curling iron clutched in one hand like a sword. It’s Saturday, the day of the gala. I’ve been up since 7 a.m. after tossing and turning for much of the night.
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter, fighting the urge to throw my hair into a messy bun and call it a day.
From across the room, mom laughs softly as she buttons up P’s jacket. “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” she says, smoothing a hand over Poppy’s hair, which she’d somehow managed to tame into two neat braids. A feat I’ve never quite mastered.
“I look like someone who’s trying too hard,” I say, twisting a loose curl around my finger and frowning.
“Trying isn’t a bad thing,” Mom says, a knowing look flashing in her eyes. “Especially when the right person notices.”
I roll my eyes, but my stomach tightens all the same. Partof me wants Ford to notice me. The other part is scared he’ll notice too much.
“I’m not getting ready for anyone,” I say, a little too quickly. “It’s just work.”
“Of course,” she says, smiling in that way only moms can, like she already knows all the things I haven’t said out loud.
Poppy skips over to me, her pink sneakers squeaking on the hardwood. “Mommy, you look like a princess!” she says, wide-eyed.
I kneel down to her level, feeling something tender break open in my chest. “Not even close, baby,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just trying to look like I belong.”
“You always belong,” Poppy says with the confidence of a 6-year-old.
I press a kiss to her forehead, breathing her in. She is my entire life. The reason I have to believe that coming home won’t turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life. The reason I’ll fight to make this work, no matter how complicated it gets.
“You’re going to be late. Don’t worry about us, we’ll be just fine.” My mom hands me my black clutch from the dresser. “You go knock ’em dead.”
“And if I don’t?” I ask, smoothing the skirt of my simple black dress.
“Then at least you’ll look good,” she says with a wink.
I laugh, feeling a little lighter as I grab my jacket and keys. Poppy hugs my legs fiercely, and I promise I’ll be back before she wakes up the next morning.
But as I head for the door, that gnawing knot in my stomach twists tighter. Because it isn’t just the gala or the town or the company that scares me.
It is the man waiting inside all of it. The man who still has the power to undo me without even trying.
The driveinto Deep Cove feels different, like the town knows tonight is something special.
I turn onto Front Street and have to ease off the gas. The entire street is glowing under strings of lights, crisscrossing over the road like a net made of stars. Shops that just two days ago were a little dusty and dim are now gleaming, their windows polished and full of carefully crafted displays. It is beautiful. And it reminds me that Cove’s influence is everywhere.
People in floor-length dresses and pressed suits wander the sidewalks , their laughter spilling into the air, mingling with the muted sound of a string quartet playing somewhere up ahead. This isn’t the town I’d left. It has matured in the years I’ve been away, and somehow, I still feel like I don’t belong.
I find the designated parking lot tucked behind the event hall and pull in, my palms a little sweaty on the steering wheel. For a second, I just sit here, staring out at the glowing lights ahead, my heart thundering behind my ribcage. I could turn the car around. Head back to my little house, climb into bed next to Poppy, and pretend none of this ever happened.
No one would blame me.
