A knock sounds at the front door, followed by the creak of the screen. Charlie's voice calls out, "Sunshine, something smells incredible."
"I hope you brought your appetite," I tease despite the tension between my shoulder blades.
When he reaches me, he leans down for a kiss and my stress melts away. The grin stretched across his face is big enough to light up a barn at midnight.
"I brought rolls from that bakery on Main." He holds up a paper bag and shakes it. "Still warm."
"You're earning serious points tonight, Hayden." I nod toward the counter. "There's a knife in the block if you want to chop the vegetables. I'm behind on the salad."
He washes his hands at the sink, rolls his sleeves to the elbow, and starts slicing tomatoes with more care than speed. I watch his hands work and feel the pull of him like a current beneath still water. Charlie has been present every single day since the tasting, never pushing, never prying. Yesterday morning, he showed up at the production room with coffee and a willingness to haul cases without being asked.
He glances up from the cutting board, and his gaze drifts past me to the envelope on the counter. His knife pauses mid-slice. He doesn't say anything for a long beat, just looks at the torn seal along the top edge, then returns to the tomato.
"You opened it," he says. Not a question.
"Couldn't resist." I flip the chicken and keep my eyes on the pan. "I told myself I wouldn't, but apparently my self-control has limits."
"And?" His voice is careful, the way a man sounds when he's bracing for an answer he might not want to hear.
"And it's a good offer, Charlie. Better than I expected." I set the tongs down and turn to face him. "Evan made sure of that."
Charlie sets the knife down and leans his hip against the counter, crossing his arms. He holds my gaze, and the effort it takes him to keep his expression neutral shows in the set of his jaw. "You've been quiet all week."
"I know." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I've been trying to sort through it, and every time I think I've landed on solid ground, Evan's face pulls me back. The way he looked at me in the tasting room, the things he said about my work." My throat tightens. "He has never given me a compliment he didn't mean, Charlie. When he told me I turned out better than he imagined, I almost lost it right there in front of everyone."
Charlie's arms drop, and he takes a step closer. "Talk to me, Sunny."
The gentleness in his voice is so characteristically him that my eyes sting. He doesn't ask what I'm going to do, doesn't press for reassurance, doesn't demand a promise. He just asks what I need, and then he waits.
"I need to go to California." The words come out before I've fully decided to say them, but the moment they're in the air, I know they're right. "I need to see Evan in person. He texted me yesterday and asked me to visit, and I can't say no to him, not after everything he's done for me."
Charlie's hazel eyes darken for just a fraction of a second before he blinks it away, but I catch the flash of fear that moves through him, followed by something that looks like resignation. He swallows, and his Adam's apple bobs.
"This isn't about Derek." I step forward and put my hand on his chest. "I have zero intention of taking that offer. Willow Sage is my home, and nothing in that envelope changes that. But Evan came all the way to Texas for me, and I won't dismiss him with a phone call. He deserves better than that."
Charlie covers my hand with his. His thumb traces across my knuckles, and the touch is so gentle that my breath hitches. "Then go see him."
"Charlie."
"I mean it." His voice is level, but the muscles in his forearm are taut beneath my fingers. "If you need to do this, then do it. I'll drive you to the airport in Austin."
"You don't have to do that. I can park at the airport."
"I know I don't have to." He tugs my hand and pulls me into him, and I go willingly because the warmth of his body is the only thing that has quieted the noise in my head. His arms close around me, and I press my forehead against his collarbone. "I want to. Let me do this for you."
I nod against him. "Okay."
We stand like that for a long moment, and I feel his heartbeat against my temple, strong and insistent. When he finally pulls back, he cups my face and tips my chin up so I have no choice but to meet his eyes.
"Take all the time you need out there, Sunshine. I'll be right here when you get back."
The conviction in his voice steadies me, but the look on his face tells a different story. His smile doesn't reach his eyes, and a crease sits between his brows that wasn't there when he walked in. He is telling me to go while every fiber of his being is asking me to stay, and the fact that he won't say it, that he would never try to hold me back, cracks something open in my chest.
"Thank you," I manage.
He drops a kiss on my forehead and steps back toward the cutting board. "Now. This salad isn't going to make itself, and that chicken needs turning before you burn it."
"I never burn chicken."
