“Yeah, I totally get it,” I said, and Ididget it, but that didn’t make it any better. “I have some work to get done too. Actually, I need to finish up the piece on you. I told Donna I would give it to her after the show, so she’s probably wondering where it is.”
“So you decided to be the one to finish it?” he asked, but it must have been rhetorical because he kept going. “I’m sure it’s great. I can’t wait to read it.” His words normally would’ve held more excitement, but this time there wasn’t even a glimpse.
He threw his leg over the saddle, mounting Cheyenne in one fell swoop.
This all felt so weird, unlike any interaction we’d ever had, and I absolutely fucking hated it.
His voice drew me back to reality. “Scarlett?”
“Yeah.”
“I really am sorry about the article.”
My lips curled up, slightly resembling a smile as I fought back tears. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. And where were we supposed to go from here?
Everything felt different.
Wrong.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The chime of my doorbell made me jump, startling my finger into prematurely pressing the send button on the finished article to Donna and a carbon copy to Stetson.
“Well, shit,” I mumbled.
I hadn’t wanted to press send yet because that meant I would no longer have an excuse to text him randomly anymore. If the article was done, I was afraid we were too.
The doorbell rang again.
“Coming,” I yelled.
My assumption was that Maggie was standing on the other side of my door.
It had been a couple of weeks since I last saw Stetson at the farm—not that I was counting or anything—and communication had been limited to the occasional text regarding my article for theTribuneand his album. Not a single word was mentioned regarding adoption, the article about me, or us. And that was the hardest part of it all—the assumption that theusthat had begun to blossom wasn’t an us anymore.
Maggie would never say it, but I knew she was worried about me.
“I’m fine,” I said, swinging open the door.
But it wasn’t Maggie.
“Mom?” I questioned, half crying and half laughing.
The emotions that had been festering inside of me over the last couple of weeks reached their limit, maxing out at full capacity. Tears barreled down my face.
“Oh, sweetie.” She dropped her bags and pulled me into a hug. “By the looks of it, I’m not surefineis the word I would use to describe your current state.”
“You two weren’t supposed to be here until next week,” I said, pulling back from her grasp and dabbing away my tears.
Dad chimed in, “Yeah, well, sometimes plans change.”
They both shuffled inside.
“I’m so glad you both are here.”
“How are you doing? And I don’t want some bullshit answer, I want the truth,” Dad demanded.
“I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse,” I admitted, snuggling into the blanket I’d been living in on the couch for far longer than I’d like to admit. “The negative press has lingered, but I think it’s finally starting to fade out.”
