Page 7 of Sterling Fight

I do know she’s wrong for me. We’re missing that sizzle I see between my brother Sebastian and his wife, Enya. Or the solid fountain of Knox and Halle. Or the unbreakable ease of Clay and Mavis. We definitely lack the electric energy of Ford and Cadence.

My family has never liked Heather. They never understood our relationship. And in the last few months, I’ve noticed what they’ve seen.

Heather and I don’t fit.

“Don’t tell me you don’t feel it,” I say, certain she must be aware of the disconnect between us. I’m quiet; she’s loud. I’m reserved; she’s not. I want communication and connection; she just wants to come, yet she’s quite critical about how that happens.

“The attraction?” she states.

I choke. “The differences.”

“What differences? Is this because I come from money?”

Another contrast. One not easy to ignore when it is continually put in my face. I was once poor. Very poor.

“Heather, I don’t—” A cold sweat breaks across my forehead. I don’t want to say I don’t love her, but I want her to know that I don’t love her. And shouldn’t love be the basis of a marriage? Through all the hell my father put my siblings and me through, at his core, he loved our mother. You wouldn’t have known it after her death, but he had. Once upon a time.

“What’s love got to do with anything?” she states, like she read my mind. “You have money now,” she adds, like that’s the heart of the matter. “And we make a beautiful couple. Everyone says so. We’re perfect.”

“But we aren’t.” I swallow hard. As I’ve never really had a girlfriend, I’ve never had to break up with someone, and this is difficult.

Ford suggested I have this discussion someplace public. Sebastian offered the bakery.

“Judd, you’re going to buy me a ring . . .”

I’m already shaking my head.

“And then, you’ll get down on one knee in front of my family,” she continues, lifting her plastic cup toward her mouth while giving me her ice-cold glare.

“I’m not,” I argue keeping my voice low, and side-eyeing the bakery which thankfully remains mostly empty.

“And you’re going to ask me to fucking marry you.” Her command cracks like a whip before she sips her complicated drink and stares at me over the straw. Her cackled demand does nothing to change my mind.

“No,” I say a little louder. “I’m not asking you to marry me.”

Stillness fills the bakery. My voice carries. Sebastian pauses his movements behind the counter. The woman in the opposite corner, whom I can’t see from my position, probably heard me as well.

“Don’t be a coward, Judd.”

The very last thing I want to be accused of is being a weakling. I never want to be considered a chicken, and it’s taking a lot of strength to stay calm right now.

Heather’s problem is Heather doesn’t want to listen. She likes to hear herself talk. About herself. About her plans for us. About our future. What I should do, buy, say for her. Without really being engaged in us. Or rather me, as the other part of we.

“I. Am not. A coward.” The cowardly thing to do would be to continue this farce of a relationship, but I can no longer pretend Heather and I are going anywhere but this dead end. “I’m sorry, Heather. We’re over.”

“We aren’t over until I say we’re over,” she says loud enough for the entire Milton County to hear. Her chair screeches against the tile floor and she stands, caramel macchiato in hand, and tosses the icy drink in my face.

“Now we’re over, Judd.”

Stunned, I swipe my hand down my face and blink the sting of a sweet drink out of my eyes. The distinct sound of the bakery-door bell jangles as Heather storms out.

Then, I sense a presence beside me.

“Sorry about that,” I mutter to my brother, my voice hushed and hoarse. Heather made a mess. I’m a fucking mess. My eyes burn. My shirt is soaked. Macchiato is dripping from my cheeks.

“Are you okay?” The voice asking is distinctly not Sebastian, not even masculine, but soft and sweet, decidedly concerned and definitely female.

And when I look up, it’s like the macchiato is surging through my veins instead of soaking my clothes. The shock is something cool, rich, and incredibly sweet.