Page 80 of Hats off to Love

Everywhere it is just a sea of color, flowers, and feathers. My hat-loving heart is so full and giddy I don’t even know where to look first. I imagine this is like taking a chef to a grocery store that only carries the most exquisite food, or an art lover going to the Louvre for the first time. It’s overwhelming but in the best possible way, and I give myself about thirty minutes to bask in finding some of my pieces while photographing others for inspiration. I’m staying off social media today, but tomorrow I’ll dive into all the tags and comment on every single one.

As I make my way back to the suite, I see more people have arrived. I smile and wave; there isn’t much that could ruin this for me today. I spot Stokes at the front of the suite, past the couches and next to the stadium seating. I weave my way through the people to get to him.

“I can’t believe she agreed to this,” Christopher says as I approach Stokes from behind. Neither of them sees me, fully engrossed in their conversation, and I freeze.

She? Are they talking about me?

“Me either. Especially after all these years.” He runs his hand over the back of his neck then pulls on his collar. “It really wasn’t that difficult to convince her either. We sat down over dinner, talked it out, and now here we are.”

My heart starts to pound behind my rib cage. Who is he talking about? Wasn’t that difficult to convince. Aside from me, the only other two women in his life that he’s known for years are Birdie and Molly. Molly would have said something to me, I’m certain of it, especially since we were working together so closely all these weeks, and that leaves Birdie.

“All this time, and I had no idea. I work with you every day.” He chuckles. “You could have told me. I mean you certainly committed. You played your part, you showed up to events and plastered a smile on your face—I’m impressed.”

You played your part, you showed up to events.

We were playing parts, but I thought it stopped being fake a while ago. Did it not? I mean things certainly became real for me.

Dropping my head, I pull my hat down to cover my face. I can feel my muscles and bones shrinking, curling in around my heart to protect me. Did he play me for a fool? Did he not see that I was opening up to him and falling for him? I gave him the vulnerable pieces of me. I did something I never thought I’d ever do in my entire life . . . I trusted him.

“Well don’t be. I didn’t like it, and I do feel kind of terrible about using her the way I am, but it had to be done.”

Using her.

Oh my God.

It has to be me.

There’s no one else.

I’ve been with him almost every day for weeks. He hasn’t had time to go to other events or entertain someone else.

Seconds tick by as they are having a normal conversation, but to me everything has slowed down. Every part of me is shutting down, going numb. Shocked isn’t even the right word for how I feel. It isn’t strong enough. I can’t breathe, and my eyes are blurring.

“So after today it’s over? You’ll just walk away?” Christopher asks, all nonchalant as if my life isn’t suddenly imploding.

“Yeah, not today, but definitely tomorrow. I can’t pretend any longer, and I need this whole charade to be over and done with, behind me.”

I need this whole charade to be over and done.

I thought I knew what it felt like to have your heart broken. I wasn’t even close. I’m so confused. What is happening right now? Should I be angry at him or at myself? Technically, he hasn’t said anything or truly given me any reason to believe he and I were going to be something after today. I built this all up in my head. I changed the rules of the game—one I am apparently playing by myself.

Oh God.

I need a teleportation machine, an invisible cloak—something to get me out of here. I can’t stay here.

“Wow, I don’t know what to say.”

“Not much to say. I’m just done.”

Done.

I will never recover from this. In less than one minute, my whole life has changed. I no longer feel like it’s us against the world. I no longer feel like I’m a part of the farm, and I’ve lost my home. I no longer feel proud of myself—I feel like the stupidest woman on the planet. Why did I think, after twelve years, a leopard was going to change its spots? The prince and the commoner . . . that’s not real life. Splintering pain is piercing me from every angle.

“And you don’t think Rosie suspects a thing?” Christopher asks again.

My head snaps up. I have to be one hundred percent sure I hear what he’s about to say. I need him to say it, to kill it all, to kill me.

“No.” He lets out a sigh. “But I’ve figured out how I want to tell her.”