Page 63

"Victoria?" Chloe asked cautiously, watching the color drain from her sister's face. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Victoria murmured. She picked up the phone and turned it face-down on the table, ignoring the message. She leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes against the late afternoon sun.

"You don't have to jump the second he snaps his fingers," Chloe said gently. "If that's what you're thinking about."

Victoria let out a shaky breath, opening her eyes to look toward the treeline. "It isn't just him. It is everything. The apartment. The routine. The office. Being untouchable." She dragged a hand through her hair, abandoning her usual composure. "The Vance call is set for Monday at nine, Chloe. I sent Harrison the preliminary audit this morning."

Chloe’s relaxed posture vanished. She slowly lowered her legs from the table, staring at Victoria. "You're actually going through with it? Even now? After everything that's happened between you two—"

"I don't have a choice," Victoria interrupted, her voice tight, defensive. "If I stall Vance, Harrison pulls rank and takes over the liquidation himself. Look at it realistically. This inn died with Joe. Emma can't run the place on her own, and I'm not staying here. I'm not throwing away twenty years of my career to play innkeeper in the middle of nowhere."

Chloe watched her silently, offering no platitudes, simply letting the hollow words hang in the air.

"That is a very elegant load of bullshit, Victoria," Chloe said quietly.

Victoria stiffened. "I am being realistic."

"You are leading her on," Chloe corrected, every trace of humor gone from her voice.

"I am not—"

"You are," Chloe pressed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. "I’m going to be extremely honest here: you sacrificed yourself for a life that would replace you by Friday if you dropped dead tomorrow."

Victoria flinched. She opened her mouth to defend the years of grueling hours, to justify the choices she had made, but the words withered in her throat.

"Harrison wouldn't even pause his meeting," Chloe continued. "New York wouldn't miss a beat. You are fiercely loyal to a version of yourself who was just trying to survive our family and prove him wrong. You did that. You survived. You won."

Chloe reached across the wooden table. She covered Victoria’s tense fingers with her own, her grip warm and incredibly grounding.

"Walking away isn't a betrayal of all that work, Vic. What if it's the reward?" she asked gently. Then, her gaze sharpened into something fiercely protective. "But if you want to go back to your glass cage, fine. Just do not string Emma along. You cannot share her bed tonight and negotiate selling the ground out from under her on Monday. Be clear with her. But mostly, be clear with yourself, before you break her heart."

Victoria stared at her sister. The iron-clad tightness in her chest cracked, letting in a sudden rush of air that felt equally terrifying and desperately needed. The life in New York offered safety and a quiet sort of emptiness she had always mistaken for peace. But as she looked past Chloe’s shoulder, toward the inn where the warm glow of the kitchen lights was just beginning to cut through the gathering dusk, the emptiness suddenly looked exactly like a cage.

She didn't have an answer. But as she powered the phone down and watched the screen go black, Victoria felt the certainty she had spent twenty years building begin to slip straight through her fingers.

✽✽✽

By ten o'clock that evening, the inn was finally locked down. The last lingering festival guests had retired to their rooms, leaving the ground floor steeped in a quiet, heavy exhaustion.

Victoria sat on the oversized sofa in the parlor, a half-empty plate of leftover muffins resting on the coffee table. Across the room, Nate was slouched in the armchair with his legs stretched out, lazily scrolling through his phone while working through a half-eaten muffin. Lucy sat on the opposite end of the rug near the doorway, rolling leftover ribbons around cardboard spools, while Chloe occupied a high-backed chair near the mantle, leafing through a local events leaflet with casual detachment.

Emma emerged from the kitchen, wiping her damp hands on a towel. She looked completely drained, her hair falling out of its messy bun, but she still managed a soft smile as she dropped onto the sofa next to Victoria. The cushions dipped under her weight, sliding them closer together.

Victoria shifted her leg just enough so the side of her knee rested against Emma’s. The contact was slight, totally hidden from the rest of the room, but it sent a shock of awareness straight up her spine. Emma let out a quiet sigh, leaning her head back against the sofa, her shoulder pressing into Victoria’s arm.

From her spot by the fireplace, Chloe glanced up. Her eyes darted from Emma’s relaxed posture to the subtle way Victoria was angling her body toward her. A slow, incredibly annoying smirk spread across Chloe’s face.

Victoria shot her a cutting look that promised consequences. Chloe merely widened her eyes with false innocence and turned back to her leaflet.

"I should get going," Lucy said, checking the time on her phone before nudging Nate's shoe with her foot. "Come on, Nate, time to move. You’ve got the morning rush at the café, and I need to prep the shop’s fresh cuts before the festival reopens at noon."

Nate tossed the remaining muffin wrapper onto the plate with a resigned groan, hauling himself up from the armchair. "Duty calls."

Lucy stood up, dusting off her jeans, and paused in front of Chloe’s chair. She hooked her thumbs into her belt loops, tilting her head with a slow, deliberate grin that made no attempt to hide her interest.

"It was genuinely great meeting you, New York," Lucy murmured, her tone dropping to an easy purr. Her eyes flicked lazily over Chloe’s dress before holding her gaze. "If you ever come back down to the country, make sure you let me know. I'd be more than happy to give you a proper tour of the area. No flowers, no family supervision, and definitely no cheap pub dates."

A faint, unmistakable pink rose in Chloe’s cheeks. She offered a coy little smile, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I might just hold you to that."