I’m still shocked at the turn of events. Twenty-four hours ago, I was wallowing in self-pity with Cheetos in my hair. Now, life suddenly feels not only brighter, but better. Like I was always supposed to end up here somehow.
I’m sipping on a glass of water in the kitchen when I notice two sealed Valentine’s on the counter. We were so hot and bothered for each other after the event that neither one of us paid any attention to the Valentines.
I decide now is as good a time as any to open the one Thatcher wrote me. If it’s really good, I might wake him up by sucking on his cock.
I tear open the envelope, smiling at the miniature highland cow on the front next to the wordsYou moooove me, Valentine.
I flip the Valentine over, and my heart stops.
It’s always been you. I’ve been in love with you since I was 12.
What the fuck?
I read it again, digesting the words. Words that any other woman might find sweet, but I only see red.
Thatcher’s been in love with me for twenty years and he just now decided to say something? I spent the better part of two decades thinking he barely tolerated me. Anger courses through my veins as I march back to the bedroom. I push open the door, flip on the light, march to the bed, and throw the Valentine at the half-asleep man.
“What the fuck, Thatcher?”
It takes him a moment to wake up, but when he finally sits up, he takes the card in hand. He stares at the words he wrote, as though mulling them over.
“You’ve been in love with me since you were twelve, but you were going to let me think you hated me and marry Spencer? What the fuck, Thatcher? Why didn’t yousayanything. I nearly went through with it. If I’d known?—”
“If you’d known what, Blaire?” Thatcher challenges, his voice much calmer than mine. But it’s laced with just as much venom. “If you’d known how I felt, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Idoknow that. I’ve known that fortwentyyears. I wanted to be your first kiss, remember? When you went on that kick to get your first kiss, and I asked you if it could be me, not only did you laugh in my face, you made me watch you give your first kiss away to Tommy Benson instead. Didn’t exactly think you felt the same. And why would I have told younotto marry Spencer? You have a tendency of choosing assholes over me, so it didn’t seem that out of character.”
His words are as effective as a slap.
“You know what? I’m leaving,” I declare, gathering my discarded clothes. “And this time, I’m not coming back to Caribou Creek, ever again.”
CHAPTER 12
Thatcher
“Why is Blaire texting me about flights back to Chicago?” Raelyn shouts over the phone. “Do you have any idea how early it is?”
“It’s four hours earlier here,” I point out, wishing I’d ignored her call. But I know my sister. She’s the most persistent person I’ve ever met. I could turn my phone off and she’d still find a way to get a hold of me, just so she could yell at me.
“What did you do?”
“Before we go pointing fingers, let’s remember who signed us up for the Cupid’s Crawl without our knowledge or consent. Did you know Maggie handcuffed us together the second we sat down at the bar? It’s like we were ambushed.”
“I thought it would befun,” Raelyn objects. “Besides, haven’t you been in love with her since you were twelve? You’re welcome.”
“Except telling her that totally blew up in my face.” I’m too sleep-depraved to be having a second argument in the span of thirty minutes. I can hear Blaire angry packing down the hall. It feels like my heart’s been sent through a meat grinder. Her anger doesn’t make any fucking sense, which is why I don’t know how to fix it.
“Great. You totally freaked her out.”
“What?”
“She just called off her wedding, Thatcher. Two weeks before she was going to marry someone who did nothing but keep secrets from her the whole time they were together. Someone who didn’t value her or treat her like a priority.”
“And that’s my problem how?”
“It’s not,” Raelyn admits. “But we woman are a complicated breed. If you love her, which anyone with eyes has known for twenty years, then just be there for her while she figures herself out. She’s going through a lot. It’s going to take more than one magical day for her to heal. You have to decide if you’re going to be the guy who stays by her side while she works through her shit, or if you want to bail. But Thatcher?”
