Chapter Eighteen
“Do you know why we’ve been summoned?” Hunter pulled into his dad’s driveway, the thumping wipers’ sound nearly drowned out by the rain hammering the car’s roof. “Did my dad take a turn for the worse?”
“I don’t know. When I dropped off the chicken curry casserole earlier, we chatted. He’s still struggling with memory issues and achiness, but he didn’t seem worse.” Sara wrinkled her nose. “Gentry and Jenna were a little standoffish, but everyone’s on edge these days. Let’s look on the bright side. Maybe they have good news from his doctor.”
He doubted it. Good news would be trumpeted quickly and wouldn’t require a face-to-face meeting. Jenna didn’t relish having Hunter to the house any more than he enjoyed being there, so he sensed a sober purpose—or trap—underfoot.
“Did you accidentally mention something about my trip tomorrow?” It’d be just like Jenna to call him out in front of his dad. He didn’t need that, especially not in front of Sara.
“No.” She held her breath, her blue eyes filled with unease. “What could I say, anyway? I don’t even know if you’re going alone.”
“Sara.” He leaned across the seat and kissed her. “I’m going alone. I keep telling you, you have no reason to be jealous of Bethany.”
She released a relieved sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’ll be back Friday afternoon. I hoped we might go hiking or something on Saturday morning.”
“Maybe.” He killed the engine, eyeing the sky. An umbrella would be useless in this downpour. “Let’s see what this is about before we make any plans.”
Sara nodded, then looked over his shoulder at the empty side of the driveway. “We’re late, but I don’t see Colby’s car, either.”
“She and Alec are at work.”
“But it’s a family meeting. Why would Colby skip out?”
“Hell if I know.” He feigned confidence, but his instincts whispered warnings. Had his dad heard directly from Pure Foods? Glancing at the McMansion that often made the short hairs on his neck stand on end, he said, “Let’s get this over with. Make a run for it.”
Sara squealed as she raced for the door, unable to avoid becoming soaked. When they reached the cover of the portico, they laughed. Her hair was pasted to her skin; her eyes, alight with humor. He cradled her wet face and kissed her, the heavy pummel of rain on the portico drumming along with his heart. “My beauty.”
“Your glasses must be dirty again.” She smiled. He loved that smile. When she shivered, he remembered why they were standing there and rang the bell.
Gentry answered the door, looking like a pale imitation of herself. Pale purple circles beneath her eyes, yoga pants and an old Berkeley sweatshirt he’d bought her years ago, head somewhat lowered instead of shoulders thrown back. No trace of haughtiness or humor. “Hey, guys.”
Sara kissed her cheek as they entered the house. “Hey yourself.”
He couldn’t remember ever seeing his sister wear that sweatshirt. It lacked the designer label or glitz that she preferred. He threw an arm around her shoulders and kissed her head. “Nice outfit.”
Following a weak smile, she eased away. “You’re soaked. Hang on a sec. Let me get you guys some towels.”
She avoided eye contact as she ducked around the corner to fetch them.
“This is all very cloak-and-dagger.” He grimaced at Sara.
She shrugged, not nearly as concerned. Of course, she’d wanted him to sell the company, so it made sense that her stress level didn’t match his.
Gentry returned with towels. While they quickly dried off, she asked, “Do you want anything to drink?”
Her mottled cheeks and downcast eyes signaled trouble. As usual, the energy in this house sucked up his intuition like a black hole, leaving him on edge.
“No.” He strengthened his grip on Sara’s hand as they followed Gentry to the family room.
A hearty fire crackled in the stacked-stone fireplace. His father rested in the recliner, with a quilt thrown over his legs. The tightness in his face belied his lingering pain, even as he grinned upon seeing them. Hunter made a mental note to persuade his dad to go see that homeopath in Portland next week, even if it meant another fight with Jenna.
“Sara, thank you for the casserole. Why don’t you quit the foundation and go work with Alec at A CertainTea?” His dad’s eyes crinkled. Neither the joke nor his smile hid an unexpected sympathy in his gaze, or the fact that he didn’t look at Hunter.
“I’m on a mission to help you regain some of the weight you’ve lost.” Sara hugged his father.
“Jenna.” Hunter acknowledged her with a polite glance before leaning down to kiss his dad hello. “Hey, Dad. How are you?”
“The same,” he mumbled. “Why don’t you two have a seat?”
Hunter braced for an argument. Jenna’s spies must’ve discovered his plans to fly to New York. Any other time, he’d enjoy going toe-to-toe with her, but not here and now, with his father’s health being so fragile.
He and Sara moved aside a handful of fringed decorative pillows and sank onto the chenille sofa. Gentry sat, cross-legged, on the floor beside their dad, toying with the hem of the sweatshirt. Jenna remained in the swivel bucket chair beside his father, suspiciously low-key.
Their positioning enhanced his sense of some kind of face-off. A moment of uncomfortable silence passed, broken only by the pop of hot embers.
“Are we waiting for Colby?” Sara asked, her voice forcibly bright.
“No,” Jenna replied, her gaze flitting away from Hunter’s.
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense.” He kept his voice steady and his gaze squarely on his father. “Why’d you call us here?”
He refused to be ashamed of his backroom negotiations. His father knew he didn’t want to sell CTC and that he’d do anything to prevent it. If they’d found out about his inquiries with King Cola, so be it. Maybe Hunter’s projections would make his dad question Jenna’s impatience and give Hunter more time to negotiate before making a final decision about Pure Foods.
But when his dad nudged Gentry, whose head remained bowed, other alarms went off. She finally looked up, eyes wary and glistening, shoulders rounded. Hunter reached for Sara’s hand as he looked at his sister, understanding why Colby’s presence wasn’t required.
“Did something happen to the baby? Did you miscarry?” The words left his mouth before he considered their insensitivity. Beside him, Sara inhaled sharply, and she squeezed his hand.
“Oh no. Please, no.” Sara’s voice wobbled, her grip tensing.
“No. The baby is fine.” Gentry had now pulled her knees up against her chest. She slid a pleading look at Jenna, who merely pressed her lips together and raised her brows at her daughter.
Hunter’s stomach sank because he knew what was coming before Gentry said another word. He wound an arm around Sara’s waist, staring at his sister, who’d had the gall to wear his college sweatshirt today. The edge in his voice carried only a fraction of his anger. “Spit it out, sis.”
Beside him, Sara had turned to stone. He massaged her side—a feeble attempt at comfort.
“I think I want to keep my baby.” Gentry closed her eyes and set her forehead on her knees, as if she thought blocking out his and Sara’s reaction would somehow lessen her culpability for the pain she would cause.
Sara trembled, folding in on herself while muffling a muted cry. Tingles fanned through him until his body went numb.
A thousand insults raced through his mind. He imagined himself towering over Gentry, screaming about how he’d known better than to trust her to keep her word. How she’d never kept a commitment in her life. How she was exactly as selfish as her mother.
But what good would that do Sara? He fastened his wife to his side in a futile attempt to keep her from falling apart. How much loss could she bear? The IVF, little Ty, now this baby, too? What had Sara ever done to deserve so much disappointment? To deserve such a betrayal?
His fingers ached to wrap themselves around Gentry’s skinny arms and shake sense into her. How could she be a mother when she was still such a fucking child?
“Hunter, Sara, we know this is hard to hear,” his dad began. “But in the end, this is Gentry’s baby, so it has to be her choice.”
Hunter had lost all patience with the way his father and Jenna always made excuses for his sister. He knew it was her baby. That’s why he’d never been enthusiastic about this plan from the start. Yet she’d come to them. She’d made a promise. What happened to all the times his dad had told him that a man is only as good as his word? Apparently, that didn’t apply to his coddled baby girl.
“Don’t even—” He glared at Jenna to preempt any defense she might raise. Turning to his sister, who hadn’t yet made eye contact with him or Sara, he sneered. “Don’t you even have the guts to look at us?”
Gentry raised her chin. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. But when Dad got sick and I moved back in . . . well, I started to think maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I’m supposed to keep my baby.”
Maybe? Even now she didn’t know what she wanted. How could they be related? He’d always known what he wanted, and he’d never shirked a commitment or broken a promise.
Hunter thought about the night, weeks ago, when he’d caught Gentry staring at the sonogram picture. He’d begged her not to let Sara get more invested if she had any doubts. What kind of monster breaks the heart of someone as kind as his wife, especially in light of what Sara had already lost?
Sara whimpered against his shoulder, reminding him that now was not the time to indulge his anger. He needed to get his wife out of this ice palace. “Come on, babe. Let’s go.”
“Hold on, son.” His father coughed. “Let’s talk this through so there aren’t hurt feelings and a family breach.”
He sat on the ugly, loathsome thoughts stacking up in his head. The kinds of words that could never be taken back. For the second time in a matter of months, his father had sided with someone other than him on a critical decision that hurt him. Ever since his dad had gotten sick, Hunter had been trying to rationalize the thing with CTC, but he couldn’t accept the way his father immediately defended Gentry’s choice and expected Sara and him to just get over it.
Hunter had pretty much dedicated himself to his dad for years, giving everything he had to keep and foster their father-son bond. He’d yearned for the man’s approval and assurance of love. All for nothing, it seemed.
Acid burned his stomach, but he couldn’t wallow in this realization now. Nor could he mask his disgust. “What’s left to discuss? When push comes to shove, you always stand with these two over Colby and me.”
He turned his back on the room and helped Sara to her feet.
“I’m sorry,” Gentry croaked from behind him. “Sara, I’m really sorry.”
“Stop talking,” he barked, aching for his wife. His sister’s tears were cold comfort, and probably an act. Escalating fury provoked him to hurl an insult with the full intention of destroying her. “I’m sorry, too. Sorry for that child you’re carrying who had a chance to have Sara for a mother but now will be stuck with you.”
“Hunter, stop,” Sara moaned. “Please, let’s just go.”
“Son,” his dad implored, but he ignored him, fixated instead on his wife’s pain-stricken face.
For once Jenna knew to keep quiet. A small mercy, because if she’d said one thing, he wouldn’t have been able to hold back the full force of his animosity. Without another word—without giving his father the closure he sought—Hunter ushered Sara out of the house.
His body felt supercharged, muscles taut, jaw clenched. It took concentration to force air in and out of his lungs as he held Sara’s waist. Her unsteady legs kept them from running through the rain.
While walking around to the driver’s side, he stopped and picked up a sizable rock from the flower bed. He stood, showered by rain, staring at the house, seriously considering tossing the thing through one of the Palladian windows. Why not? He’d probably never return. Never forgive his sister. Never.
With great restraint, he let the rock fall to the ground. He got into the car and sat behind the wheel, water sluicing off his body and drenching his seats.
“Babe,” he said, but Sara’s head rested against the window, eyes closed tight, face crumpled.
Away from his family’s watchful eyes, Sara’s agony poured out of her for the duration of the drive home. She was crying just as she had when the last IVF failed. The sound of lost hope consumed the car. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as he sped up, his hazy thoughts obscuring the road.
None of his strength or intellect could stop her tears or fix what had broken. He hated nothing more than listening to his wife’s pain gush in sobs and hiccups. Well, maybe he hated Gentry more.
His father’s loyalties fueled Hunter’s rage. Time to flip the switch. He’d invoke the bylaws and take over as interim CEO. His fiduciary duty to the shareholders meant he couldn’t exactly stop the Pure Foods deal, but he could exert greater control over the negotiations and terms, if it came to that. Meanwhile, he’d now have more authority in his meeting with King Cola.
If he could nail down that deal, he’d borrow money to buy his father, Jenna, and Gentry out of CTC. That coup would be his new legacy. His father had let him down in so many ways that he felt almost nothing at the thought of total estrangement.
When they got home, Hunter tried to hold Sara, but she wouldn’t be consoled. “What can I do?”
She looked at him, swiping at her puffy face. Her eyes were full of agony and betrayal. “Look at you. Not a single tear. It’s like you don’t even care.”
“What are you talking about? Of course I care. I can’t stand to see you this upset.” He reached for her, but she shook him off.
“You care that I’m upset, but you don’t care about losing the baby or the fact that, once again, our dreams of a family were snatched away. You’re just angry because Gentry changed her mind, and you can’t do anything about it.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that accusation. He did feel angry. Angry as hell. Did she expect him to cry? That was never his MO. He acted. He made—or forced—change. He fixed problems. What he didn’t do was cry. “Just because I don’t react like you doesn’t mean I don’t care, Sara. Please don’t push me away right now.”
She sank to the ground and leaned against the side of the island. “I should’ve listened to you and your warnings. I should’ve known you’d be right. You’re always right. Sometimes I hate that about you.”
Her brows furrowed before she closed her eyes. He crouched to embrace her, but she batted him away in favor of hugging herself. He sat beside her, hands clasped on his lap, waiting for her to fall against his chest and let him hold her. It took longer than usual, but eventually she leaned against him, hugging him like he was the only thing keeping her alive.
Her last words echoed in his mind. For the first time in his life, he also hated being right.
A muffled noise in the bedroom woke Sara. Not that it mattered. She’d slept in fits and starts all night. No light filtered through the blinds, so she glanced at the clock: 4:38 a.m. A shadow moved in the distance, causing her to start. She felt across the mattress for Hunter, but his side of the bed was empty.
A drawer opened, and as her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw him on the chaise, putting on socks.
“Where are you going?” she whispered, even though no one was sleeping.
He looked up, his expression shifting from surprised to apologetic as he tied his shoelaces. “Sorry I woke you. I have to catch my flight.”
She pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Can’t you reschedule?”
“No.” He stood and raised the handle on his overnight bag. “I’ve got to jump on this. It’s my only shot.”
Yesterday they’d basically lost another child, yet today he was right back to business—his true love. Never mind that she’d be alone, not even able to turn to his family for comfort. “I can’t believe you’re leaving after what just happened.”
He sat on the bed and stroked her hair, his intent gaze cutting through the dimness. “Sara, if I could avoid it, I would, but I’ve got to take this meeting. I need to nail down this option. I’m going to win this fight and then force Jenna, Gentry, and Dad out of the company.”
“Revenge?” She shook her head. “Since when has that been a goal?”
“Since yesterday.” The sharp planes of his cheekbones looked harsh in the shadows. He pulled her head toward him and kissed her forehead.
“Vengeance won’t give us back what we lost. I need you to stay with me today.” She reached for his hand and held it to her cheek. “Please, Hunter. Please don’t go.”
He looked away. “The timing sucks, but I called in a personal favor to get this meeting, so I can’t cancel at the last minute.”
“You can. You can realize what really matters and get some perspective about CTC.” She dropped his hand and slumped against the pillows. When he shook his head, what remained of her heart went cold in her chest. “Just leave, then.”
“Sara . . .” he started, but she rolled away, pulling the covers up over her head.
He sighed before she felt his weight lift off the mattress. “I love you. I’ll be home tomorrow. I’ll clear my calendar for the whole weekend so we can get away. We’ll go on that hike, okay?”
She didn’t respond. He was using her pain as twisted justification for some form of retaliation. Did he think a hike would make her feel better now? She lay under the blanket, listening to his footsteps fade as he made his way down the steps.
Frustrated, she tossed the covers off but remained curled in a ball. The headlights from his stupid, silent car slipped light through the slats of the blinds as he backed out of their driveway.
A tear trickled down her cheek. She was tired of feeling alone. Of being kind and good and hopeful only to lose out to fate and fickle whims. Of trying to be understood by her husband only to be met with his frustration. Of coming in second place to CTC.
Maybe she was growing tired of being Mrs. Hunter Cabot, and the only way she could be happy now would be to return to being Sara Daly.
When dawn’s first rays finally peeked through the window, she roused herself from bed despite the pounding headache and aching muscles.
Listlessly, she went to the bathroom and splashed cool water on her face, hoping it would revive her. Patting her skin dry, she stared into the mirror. Sara Daly Cabot. Thirty-four and counting. Faint wrinkles fanned out from the corners of her eyes. Fainter ones showed around her lips. A few rogue gray hairs could be found if one looked hard enough. Her body still looked young and strong. No stretch marks on her belly, of course. She hadn’t been that lucky.
Who might she be today had Hunter not chased her down in the Glade? Would she be living close to her mother and sisters? Would she have married someone less ambitious? Would she be happier?
She stared at herself, as if her image could give her the strength to do what she’d been considering. Leave. Forever? The sudden thought shocked her, yet maybe sudden was the only way this kind of notion ever struck.
The word “separation” tasted like a mouthful of vinegar, but she needed to regroup. To get distance from Hunter so she could think about her future.
At the back of the cavernous closet, she found a large suitcase. She set it on the bench and opened it. Her breath came in shallow gulps as the walls closed in around her. With effort, she forced herself to thumb through her clothes. A lifetime of items accumulated, one by one. The dress she’d worn to Colby’s first wedding. The jeans she’d bought when she’d gone with Hunter to New York last year. The funky belt Gentry had bought her for Christmas two years ago. Sara closed her eyes, as if she could unsee that silver-and-turquoise buckle.
She couldn’t stand it, so she spun around to another corner of the closet. For now, she’d take enough to get her through a couple of weeks. She wouldn’t think about Hunter or his family, or how they’d feel about her decision. Only herself. Her family. Her heart. She needed a sense of family and love she seemed to have lost here, no matter how terrifying it felt to leave.
She folded four pairs of jeans, some wool slacks, and several shirts and sweaters. At the bottom of the suitcase, she layered her favorite boots and a couple of pairs of shoes first, then added the clothing. She had to sit on the suitcase to zip it.
Choosing her favorite lululemon pants and cozy hoodie, she dressed and then tied her hair back, brushed her teeth, and applied a stroke of mascara. She stared in the mirror again, this time feeling somewhat stronger and more determined than earlier. The vanity was full of her stuff, so she retrieved a smaller bag and tossed in her makeup, facial creams, brushes, and hair gizmos.
Her bravery faltered when she took a final sweep around the bedroom. Years of memories—so many of them happy—replayed. The warmth of her comfy bedding after she and Hunter made love. That first Christmas as husband and wife, when Hunter had surprised her by setting up an extra Christmas tree in the room simply because she loved tree lights. His face had beamed with pride from pleasing her.
If she closed her eyes, she could smell the lingering scent of his cologne that wafted through the room every morning when he dressed for work. Hear his humming while he shaved.
They’d begun their marriage with so much love and no comprehension of how life might blindside them. No concerns about the limits of what they or their bodies could do. No doubts that their values and goals would remain in sync.
Somewhere along the way, they’d grown in different directions, and no amount of talking had bridged the gap. She didn’t know why their communication had faltered, but continuing to torment and frustrate each other wasn’t making it better. They both deserved better.
Her gaze landed on the bamboo plant from Leslie. It hadn’t lived up to its promise any better than anyone or anything else had.
Right now, Hunter believed the most important thing he had to do was save CTC. That left it to her to save herself. The drive to Sacramento would take nine hours, but the pull toward home had never beckoned more than it did this morning.
She passed by the pictures hanging on the wall along the stairwell, refraining from looking at them, especially the candid black and white she’d taken of Hunter. He’d been lounging in his pajama pants and an old T-shirt, reading a book, his feet propped up on the leather ottoman. She’d captured him in a rare relaxed moment. The beauty of his face in repose always took her breath away, so she could not let herself see it now.
She got as far as the kitchen before she hesitated. Before the enormity of this act hit her. Everything inside these walls—from the paint they’d selected to the knickknacks they’d collected—owned a piece of her heart, and if she left, those pieces would be ripped away, leaving even more raw, exposed wounds. That scared her, but fear wasn’t a good reason to stay.
Before she left the house, she sat at her kitchen desk. The early-morning quietude mirrored the solemnity of her mood. Pulling out a sheet of paper, she chewed on a pencil, thinking.
Her throat ached from the lump wedged in there like a too-big bite of bread. Her heart beat out an irregular and heavy pace. She pushed away the image of how Hunter’s face would droop when he read her note. When he discovered the missing bags and realized that everything had changed.
Sadly, she welcomed the guilt of hurting him because at least it made her feel something other than numb. Despite it all, she couldn’t continue living in limbo, hoping for change.
Hunter,
I’ll always love the life we had and the love we shared, but it’s not the same anymore. We’ve reached a place where our wants and needs no longer match, and we both deserve better than feeling misunderstood or unappreciated. I know you love me, as I love you, but love is only part of this equation. You want CTC to be your legacy, while I wanted love and a family to be our legacy. I’m accepting that I won’t get my wish. Knowing you, you won’t stop until you get yours. I hope it’s worth it.
Love, Sara
Her hands trembled slightly, but she set the note on the island. She twisted her wedding band around and around, staring out the window at the lake far below, remembering the thrill of buying this house. A home. Their home.
But mementos and pretty views didn’t make a home. A home was founded on love, constructed by shared values, commitment, and compromise, and decorated with laughter. The foundation of her home had been strong, but somewhere along the way, the construction had grown shoddy, the decor neglected. Now the roof couldn’t keep out the rain.
She dragged her suitcases to the garage and loaded them into her trunk, nose tingling from the urge to cry. Adrenaline surged through her heart as the engine roared to life.
For a moment, she sat in the car, garage door opened. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, eyes staring at the back wall, throat swollen from unshed tears. The low hum of the engine muddled her thoughts. For all the drama in her head, she’d be leaving without fanfare. No teary goodbye. Nothing but her memories and disappointments.
She backed out of the driveway and, as she drove away, couldn’t stop herself from watching the home get smaller in her rearview mirror. She swallowed hard.
Once on the main road that led out of town, she put her foot on the gas and headed south, praying for relief.