My head tilted slightly. “The inn is already in the family.”
“Yes,” he said, nodding like I had agreed with him. “But it would secure it further. Permanently.”
Collin lifted his chin and spoke with the confidence of a man who had never been told his timing was inappropriate. “I believe you would make an excellent wife.”
The words landed in the lobby like a dropped plate.
There was a pause, the kind that happens when a room collectively decides whether to laugh, scream, or pretend it misheard.
Mom looked as if she might physically throw the peppermint bark at him.
Collin ignored that, too. He refocused on me, expression earnest. “Lydia, I am not proposing impulsively. I have considered this carefully. It is sensible. Beneficial. A merger, if you will, of our interests.”
I felt something inside me go calm, the way a storm goes calm right before it unleashes. I made sure my voice came out steady. “No.”
Collin’s smile stayed in place, as if he had not heard properly. “I understand this is sudden.”
“No,” I repeated. “It is not sudden. You have been circling this for days. The answer is no.”
He blinked. “Lydia, consider what I am offering. You would never have to worry about the inn’s future again.”
I could feel my pulse in my throat. I kept my voice even. “I am not something you use to secure an investment.”
Collin’s expression tightened slightly, finally offended. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“It’s what you said,” I replied.
He opened his mouth, then closed it, then tried again. “You are taking this personally.”
I stared at him.
“Yes,” I said. “I am.”
The room felt very still behind me. I could sense my family holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen..
“Collin,” I continued, “absolutely not. Not now. Not later. Not in a million years. Don’t ask me again.”
His face flushed. “That is an overreaction.”
“It’s not,” I replied. “It’s a boundary.”
He looked around as if searching for support, as if expecting Mom or Dad to correct me for my tone. Mom’s expression was pure ice. Dad folded his arms, keeping his silence.
Collin turned back to me, voice sharpening. “If you refuse to consider reasonable solutions, you may regret it.”
I let the threat slide off me, not because it didn’t matter, but because I refused to let him control the room any longer.
“I am done with this conversation,” I said.
Then I stepped around him.
Kitty reached for my hand, but I kept walking, not away from my family, but away from the pressure. Away from the feeling of being cornered. I crossed the lobby, went toward the hallway, and let the distance speak for me.
Behind me, I heard Jane’s voice, calm and firm. “Collin. You need to leave.”
I didn’t wait to hear his answer.
I moved down the hall until the noise of the lobby softened. My hands were shaking now, not with fear, but with the release of holding myself together all day. Gavin’s infuriating smile. The station’s fluorescent lights. Collin’s cheerful entitlement. All of it pressing in, then breaking apart.
