Page 83 of The Heartbreaker Next Door

Without even thinking about it, I found myself heading down the hallway, trailing after my mom and Felicity, my instincts screaming that whatever was coming would affect my life immensely.

My mom’s in-home office was at the end of the hallway, a cozy little alcove jammed with houseplants, family photos, and about three decades of correspondence in neat rainbow-colored folders. She ushered Felicity in, and I hung back, hovering in the hallway, not even pretending I was going to respect their privacy.

Inside, I could hear the gentle creak of the old office chair as they sat. Then, a pause, as if they were both waiting for the other to speak first.

I heard my mom’s voice, low and kind. “What can I help you with, mija?”

Another pause. Then Felicity’s voice, barely above a whisper. “I’m putting in my notice, effective at the end of the week.”

My gut twisted. I pressed closer to the door, but not close enough to give myself away. She was quitting. I felt lightheaded and a little sick.

My mom didn’t answer right away, which meant she was trying to read between the lines. “Is this about the land situation? Or my son?” she questioned.

Felicity’s answer was soft, but clear enough. “Neither. No, not exactly.”

I leaned my head back against the wall, let my eyes close. Of all the potential disasters, this was the one I hadn’t foreseen. I’d been so ready to present the solutions I’d come up with, it never even crossed my mind that she’d just leave. Maybe take us to court, have a judge decide ownership, all the ugly shit people did when that amount of money was on the line. But Felicity? She just wanted out.

For a moment, I imagined running in there, begging her to stay—but that was the kind of dramatic gesture I just wasn’t capable of. I’d never known how to say what I wanted, not without making it sound like an ultimatum. I’d always hoped people I loved just… knew.

Inside, Felicity kept talking, voice growing stronger. “I got a job offer in Colorado from my old employer. It’s basically my dream job.”

My mom made a sound—part sigh, part hum. “If it’s about the money, we can work something out. We don’t want to lose you.”

“Thanks, but I think I just need to take this fresh start. The job is everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s just too good to pass up.”

I stared at the wall across from me. My mind was racing through spreadsheets and timelines, recalculating a future that didn’t include her or Maverick. I hated it. I hated myself for not having an answer to fix it.

29

REAL ESTATE AND REGRET CLIFFS

Felicity

At 8 a.m. I’d already been awake for four hours. The sunrise found me awake, already in motion, as if my body had decided to keep moving so my brain couldn’t catch up and beg me to stop. Last days, ends of chapters, aren’t supposed to feel like this. There should be a sense of relief, or at least the restless anticipation that comes before major life changes, graduations, resignations, first days in new cities.

Instead, I felt weighed down at the kitchen counter, coffee rapidly cooling while Maverick lined up his toy horses along the windowsill and narrated their impending rodeo. Maybe my sense of inertia was a defense mechanism. If I pretended nothing was ending, maybe the actual ending would sneak by without landing a punch.

Today’s date was highlighted on my Saddleback calendar. “Dawson & Sadie’s Wedding/Last Day” stared at me from the alert banner, as if I couldn’t be trusted to remember one of the most bittersweet days of my life. I’d been looking forward to Sadie and Dawson’s wedding since my first meeting with Sadie. I felt honored to be any part of a Lockhart wedding. But this was also my last day as a Lockhart Ranch employee. I couldn’t quite believe it was actually here.

I was watching Maverick try to fashion a lasso out of an extension cord when my phone vibrated face-down on the counter. I let it ring, part of me briefly hoping it was a spam call designed to save me from whatever news waited on the other end. I should have known the universe wasn’t that generous. When I picked it up, I saw Vicki Blair RE/MAX on the screen, a reminder of the grown-up responsibilities I’d decided to shoulder and which now threatened to crush me under their weight.

I pressed answer and brought the phone to my ear. “Hey, Vicki, how are⁠—”

Vicki didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “Felicity Foster, are you sitting down?” she asked, voice syrup-smooth and excited. Through the receiver, I could practically hear the clack of her acrylics against her tablet, already typing out her victory speech for Top Seller of the Quarter.

I lowered into a kitchen chair, balancing my coffee on one knee. “I am sitting. What’s up?”

She launched straight in. “We got an offer on the farm, honey. All cash. Full asking price and then some. It’s the kind of thing you see in Portland, not out here. I told you listing now and not waiting was the right move.” She paused, probably waiting for my shrieks of joy.

I didn’t shriek. I didn’t even smile. Instead, I let my gaze drift past Maverick’s horses to the field outside, where the fog was starting to lift over the blackberries and the old barn. “Wow. That’s…fast,” I managed.

“Fast is good!” Vicki chirped. “It’s twenty over asking. They want to close in thirty days. No contingencies. They’ll even waive inspection if you want. I’m going to be honest, Felicity, this is a dream offer. You’d be crazy not to take it.”

She kept talking, but the words swirled past me, a dizzying stream of numbers and legalese. I knew what I was supposed to say, “Yes, please, let’s sign. When do we pop the champagne?” Instead, I pictured lilac bushes lining the driveway, saw Maverick riding Cowboy, learning to drive stick in Dean’s truck, and him in a tux getting ready to leave for prom. This farm had been everything and more that I’d wanted for Mav’s childhood. It had answered my maternal prayers. Now I was being told—politely, efficiently, that it was time to let it go.

“Can I—Can I think about it?” I asked, surprised my voice worked at all.

There was a beat of silence on the line, then Vicki’s tone shifted to something more transactional. “Of course. But these buyers aren’t likely to wait. It’s a buyer’s market. I’d hate to see you lose your shot at getting everything you wanted, Felicity. I doubt we’d be able to get this deal again.”