I owed him nothing. I was nothing to him. I never had been his girlfriend.
The thought brought back old pain that I had thought I had left behind. I took another breath, trying to center my thoughts.
A soft knock sounded against the doorframe.
I turned too quickly, bumping my hip painfully against the counter behind me. Braxton stood framed by the doorway, one hand on the trim, posture loose but attentive. His expression shifted the moment he saw my face.
“Are you alright?” he asked gently.
I straightened my apron, pretending it needed smoothing. I told myself it was a shield I could hide myself behind. “I’m fine.”
He stayed where he was instead of stepping into the kitchen. He did that a lot. Most people barreled straight into a room whether you were ready or not. Not Braxton. He let people come to him. It was one of the things I liked most about him.
“You looked startled to see the latest guest,” he mentioned.
“I was surprised,” I admitted. My voice came out tighter than I meant it to.
His gaze flicked briefly to my hands. I tucked them deeper behind my apron.
“If you want, I can talk to Kitty. Let her know you need a minute. Keep him busy in the lobby,” he slowly suggested.
I almost said yes. The word sat right on the edge of my tongue. I could picture it easily, Braxton stepping back into the lobby with one of his warm, easy smiles, finding a way to redirect James without making a scene. He was good with people. He could charm a brick wall if he decided it was worth the effort.
I kind of envied him thatskill in thismoment. No one would ever say I was charming.
It would be so easy to say yes. Yet the thought of requiring someone to step in on my behalf made me uncomfortable.
“That is very sweet,” I said. “But I’m alright.”
He took in my expression for a long moment. I could tell he didn’t believe me, but also that he respected the boundary. A small nod followed.
“Alright,” he said softly. “I will be nearby.”
He gave me a faint, encouraging smile, then stepped back, letting the door swing mostly closed behind him. The space felt immediately emptier.
I reached for a stack of parchment sheets, though I couldn’t remember what I needed them for. I tore one off unevenly, sighed, and tossed it into the compost. Another one tore the wrong way too. My hands were still shaking.
I set them down and pressed both palms to the countertop. The surface was cool and solid, a quiet anchor in a moment where everything inside me still felt jostled.
I heard footsteps then. They were loud and deliberate.
Before I could prepare myself, the door swung open again.
James stepped into the kitchen like it belonged to him.
“Jane Bennet,” he said, his smile a polished weapon. “There you are. I was looking everywhere.”
My voice didn't want to work at first. I swallowed hard. “Hello, James.”
“You look well,” he said, giving me a once over that made my stomach tighten. “Very well, actually. Country living must agree with you.”
My cheeks burned hot. I hated how quickly my body responded, like it remembered it had once been trained to listen for his approval.
“We are still renovating,” I said, willing my tone to stay even. I was changing the subject out of sheer self preservation. I remembered how James could compliment and weasel out of me exactly what he wanted. Until he didn’t want anything anymore and he had let me see his real colors.
I replayed the last words he had spoken through my head before I had packed my bags and headed here on the promise of never having to go backward to the city again. It gave me some resolve not to commit the same follies of the past.
He waved off my subject change with a careless flick of his hand. “Early days. These old buildings always take time. But you always were good at making the most of limited resources.”
