“Good work tonight.”
“Boss.” David caught her arm as he turned, his grip gentle but insistent. “Whatever happened out there, we handled it. Nobody’s talking about broken champagne flutes. They’re talking about how that lemon ricotta appetizer was the best thing they’ve ever tasted.”
The breath she’d been holding since the terrace let go. “Get everyone to the ferry. I’ll follow.”
She found Eleanor Beauchamp on the terrace, overseeing the final guests as they filtered toward their cars.
“Mrs. Beauchamp.” Tessa kept her voice steady, the mask she’d learned to wear, professional and seamless. “Everything’s been cleared and cleaned. I’ve left the bride and groom’s gift with your venue coordinator—the two champagne flutes with their wedding date etched in the crystal. She’ll make sure they receive them when they return.”
Eleanor turned, her expression warm despite the late hour. “Tessa, thank you. Everything was absolutely perfect. The Wilders have already left for their suite, but Devney made me promise to tell you how thrilled she was.”
“I’m glad.” Tessa managed a smile. “If you need anything else…”
Eleanor squeezed her arm, a maternal gesture that caught Tessa off guard. “I’ll be recommending you to everyone I know. That lemon ricotta was exquisite.”
Tessa thanked her and walked toward the parking area. She was done, and the job had been handled professionally. She could leave now.
Then she saw him.
Gabriel stood at the valet station, keys in hand. He wasn’t getting into the sleek black car waiting with its door open. He was looking around the nearly empty lot, scanning the remaining vehicles. He was looking for someone.
Tessa pressed herself against the side of the building, into the shadow at the edge of the staff lot. The brick was cool against her shoulder blade. Her heart hammered loud enough that she was sure the valet could hear it.
His posture held something she remembered—the stiff tension he’d carried the day after they’d ended it senior year, the day after his mother had cornered her in the Ashford hallway to explain exactly why a scholarship girl would never be good enough for a Sterling. He’d looked at her then like he didn’t care, and she’d let herself believe it because believing was easier than fighting the truth his mother had just made plain.
He was scanning the area, looking for someone, and the cold certainty that it was her drove her back against the brick, trying to make herself small enough to disappear.
The valet said something. Gabriel shook his head and scanned the lot once more. His gaze swept past the corner where she stood hidden, close enough that she could see the set of his jaw, the way his fingers tightened on the keys like he was holding onto something that kept slipping away.
Then he got in the car.
Tessa watched the taillights disappear down the long driveway and forced herself to breathe.
She had stayed, finished the job, and maintained every standard. She had also hidden in the shadow of the building rather than face him again.
The ferry horn sounded once,and the line of cars in front of her began to roll down onto the car deck. Tessa drove on, killed her engine, and stayed in the driver’s seat. Above her, heading toward the passenger deck, her team was already laughing. .
David tapped on her window before he climbed the stairs. “Coming up?”
She shook her head and waved him on. He gave her a long look, but he went without her.
The forty-five-minute crossing to Woods Hole felt like an hour. By the time the boat docked, she had calmed down. She still had four hours of highway between her and Brooklyn, and she used the time to pretend she was someone who hadn’t seen Gabriel Sterling at all.
Somewhere on I-95, she pulled into a truck stop. Not because she needed gas. Because her eyes had gone blurry and the white lines wouldn’t stay still.
Inside the convenience store, the fluorescent lights buzzed. Tessa filled a paper cup with coffee that smelled burned and tasted worse. A man in a Patriots jersey was arguing with the cashier about lottery tickets, his voice carrying the certainty of someone convinced the universe owed him something. She leaned against the counter and waited him out.
Her reflection stared back at her from the dark window behind the coffee station. Mascara smudged beneath her eyes like bruises. Her hair had escaped its bun in rebellious wisps. The face in the glass belonged to a woman who had built an empire from nothing, and she was standing in a truck stop at midnight trying to remember how to breathe.
“Miss? You okay?”
The cashier was looking at her now. The lottery guy had left with his tickets and his dreams.
“Yes. It’s been a long night.”
She paid for the coffee. The cashier glanced at the door, where the Patriots jersey was disappearing into the parking lot. “Could be worse,” he said. “You could be selling lottery tickets to guys like that.”
Tessa let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Fair point.”
