“You have always been shy,” he murmured. “It is sweet, really. You were never confident enough to take the leap, and I could never push you the way you wanted me to. But a project like this could change that. You would be beside me. Learning. Growing. It could remind you of what we had.”
“We didn’t have anything,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
He smiled, leaning in closer, pressing lightly against me. “Don’t pretend it meant nothing. You’re my Janie.”
I stepped back until I felt the counter behind me. My hands braced against it. He was too close. His cologne was overpowering. My heart beat too fast.
James lowered his voice. “If we work together again, you might even get the attention you used to want. You always did blushwhen I calledyou pretty.”
He reached up as though he meant to brush my cheek again.
I flinched before I could stop myself.
Lucy entered the kitchen with a gust of winter air. I jumped back from James, leaning against the counter.
“There you are,” she said, seemingly unaware of the tension. “The food delivery truck is here.”
James stepped back. “Of course. We can continue this later, Janie.”
I nodded because I couldn’t force anything else out.
When he left, Lucy looked at me. “Are you alright?”
“I need a minute,” I said.
I walked to the pantry, shut the door gently, and sat down on a pail of cornmeal, wrapping my arms around my knees. My breath came unsteadily. My chest felt tight. My thoughts tangled together so fast I could barely see them.
Braxton said he is interested in someone. He saw me with James. He thinks I want James’ attention. He thinks James still matters to me.
And the worst part was that my body had reacted like it used to. The old fear. The old confusion. The old desire to please someone who had never cared for me at all.
I pressed my eyes closed.
I didn’t want James. I didn’t want his praise or his flirting or whatever he thought we had shared. I didn’t want the memories he kept stirring up like they were something sweet instead of something sour.
I wanted…
I swallowed hard.
I wanted someone who made me feel safe. Someone who saw me. Someone who caught trays when they wobbled and moved cables out of my way and looked at me like I mattered even when he didn’t say it.
My throat tightened. I leaned forward, resting my forehead briefly against my hands.
Day three of the wedding party had barely begun, and I already felt unsteady.
I needed to find my footing. I needed to find my voice. And I needed to figure out how to tell Braxton that James meant nothing to me now.
If only I knew how to say any of it without breaking again.
Chapter Eleven: What I Thought I Saw
Braxton
The basement of the Snowdrop Inn was colder than the courtyard and quieter than the lobby. I preferred it for both reasons. The noise from the wedding guests didn't reach this far, and the thin winter light came through the basement windows in calm, steady lines. It made it easier to focus. Or it should have. Today, even the quiet felt loud.
William had us shoring up the joists before the damaged ones were replaced later in the week. He had chalked lines along the beams with careful precision, and Dex was measuring out the length of the temporary bracing. I held each board steady as William secured the ends. The rhythm of work usually settled my mind, but every few minutes I found my thoughts drifting back to the kitchen that morning.
The basement smelled like sawdust and cold earth. It reminded me of the older historic building renovations I had worked on in the city, the ones that required patience and attention instead of speed. Normally that kind of work centered me. Today, it barely held my thoughts together.
