Page 121 of Fake it for Keeps

36

HALLIE

The coffeemaker gurgled and hissed as I stood at the kitchen window. The thing was beyond old. I was pretty sure it was the same coffeemaker my mom bought my dad for Christmas when I was a baby. But it worked. It didn’t matter that it was loud as hell and probably needed to be soaked in vinegar—or gasoline.

I pulled the carafe, filled my cup, and dumped an unhealthy amount of sugar into the black liquid. I absently stirred while I stared outside.

Snow fell steadily, thick flakes that obscured the beach beyond. The wind howled around the old house, making the windows rattle in their frames. It was the kind of day my dad would have loved, wild and moody and perfect for staying inside by the fire. It was dreadful. Cold. No normal person would even think about going for a walk on the beach, but I was.

I wanted to feel that icy wind. I needed it to blow away the pain that still gripped my heart. Hearing Colt’s voice was good and bad. It made me long for him. I so wished I had been there to hold him in the aftermath of that nightmare.

I would never hold him again.

Valentine’s Day was in two days. My wedding day that would never happen. I kept stirring, the spoon clinking against the ceramic in a rhythm that matched my scattered thoughts.

I could picture him so clearly. Lying in his bed, shirtless, his hair mussed, his eyes haunted by nightmares he couldn’t escape. The image made my chest ache with longing and regret in equal measure.

He’d called to make sure I was okay.

After everything I’d done to him, after all the lies and the pain, he’d woken from a nightmare, and his first thought had been me.

What did that mean?

I looked down at my left hand, still wrapped around the coffee mug. The fake diamond caught the gray morning light, throwing weak rainbows across the counter.

I still hadn’t taken it off. Even after the engagement was cancelled, I had kept wearing his ring.

The realization made me set down my coffee. Slowly, carefully, I slid the ring off my finger. It left a faint indent in my skin, a ghost of what had been. I should never have put it on in the first place.

Not for the reasons I had. Not with revenge in my heart and lies on my tongue. I was not that person. I realized the revenge thing was like putting on a pair of shoes that were three sizes too small. That attitude, that need for revenge was not who I was. And I never wanted to be that person. It felt gross. Dirty. Like I was betraying not just myself, but my parents. They taught me to be better than that.

I placed the ring on the windowsill and stared at it. It looked small and insignificant there. It meant nothing, but for a little while, I let myself believe it signified something special.

A knock on the door made me jump, coffee sloshing over the rim of my mug.

Who would be here? Especially in this weather.

Maybe it was a neighbor. Or someone checking on the property.

I padded down the hallway in my slippers and old terrycloth robe with the frayed belt and the stain on the sleeve that wouldn’t come out. My hair was probably a mess. I definitely wasn’t wearing a bra.

Whoever it was would just have to deal with it. I opened the door. And froze.

Colt stood on my porch, snowflakes caught in his dark hair, his cheeks and nose pink from the cold. He wore jeans and a heavy coat. His hazel eyes that had looked at me with such hurt three days ago were locked on mine. The gaze made my breath catch.

“Colt?” His name came out as barely a whisper.

“Hi.” His smile was sheepish, almost shy. Nothing like the cocky billionaire. “Can I come in? It’s fucking freezing out here.”

I stepped back automatically. He moved past me into the house, bringing cold air and wet snow with him.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, closing the door. “How did you—when did you⁠—”

“I got off the phone with you this morning and couldn’t fall back asleep.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking around the small entryway. “So I called my pilot and chartered a flight out here. I needed to see you.”

“You chartered a jet.” I stared at him. “At four in the morning.”

“Closer to five by the time we took off, but yeah.” He took a step toward me. “I needed to see you, Hallie. To touch you. To make sure you were really okay.”