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“Yes, I gathered that,” I reply dryly.

“I guess I’m calling to congratulate you. You’ve done amazing for yourself and you got the girl you always wanted. Not that I’m surprised—you’ve always had that spark. Something special.”

I can’t stand the flattery. It feels like a carefully placed bait, and I’m not biting. Besides, I think I hear sounds upstairs. No matter what happens I have to find a way to stop her leaving. Even if I have to bring up the matter of her father’s medical treatments.

“Thanks,” I say flatly, cutting Annabelle off. “It’s really nice to hear from you, but I don’t have much time to talk right now. I’ve something urgent to see to.”

“Of course,” she says smoothly, unfazed. “I was just wondering if you’d like to catch up sometime. Maybe grab a drink?”

The suggestion hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, I consider refusing. But then I push the thought aside. No. I’m playing the long game here. She could come in useful. Not now though. Not when Raven is somewhere upstairs packing, ready to leave.

“Sure. A drink will be nice. I’m not certain when I’ll have the time, but I’ll call and let you know when I can.”

She hums softly, as if amused. “Fair enough. Though … will you at least be at the New Year’s gala? You know, the charity thing at the community center?”

The invitation to the gala has been sitting on my desk for more than a week. This town and its self-important gatherings have never held any appeal for me. It’s a place where people sneer at families like mine, whispering behind their champagne flutes about people less fortunate than themselves.

But there is a reason the invitation hasn’t gone into the bin. The thought of walking into that event, watching those same people choke on their own judgment as they see what the son of the drunk has become—it’s tempting. Too tempting.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I reply carefully.

“Well, I’ll hope to see you there,” she says brightly. “It was really nice catching up, Earl. Really.”

“Yeah, it was nice,” I lie smoothly. “Take care.”

The call ends with a click. Maybe I’m just cynical, but her tone and her ease, doesn’t quite sit right with me. Like she’s fishing for something, but doesn’t want me to know it. A trap, maybe. Or worse, a genuine olive branch.

I go upstairs and there is no movement. I open her door and see my old suitcase sitting on the floor. I frown. What is going on with her? And then I look out of the window and I see her in the conservatory and just like that, I suddenly feel happy and light again.

She’s not leaving.

CHAPTER29

RAVEN

The greenhouse hums with a quiet kind of life, the air warm and fragrant with the smell of strawberries. I crouch low, my fingers brushing through the leaves to find the ripe ones hiding underneath. My earbuds are snug in my ears, Sunny’s voice crackling slightly through the phone as she continues the conversation. I can hear the faint noises of customers in her bakery in the background.

“So, what’s the game plan?” she asks, her voice laced with its usual mix of curiosity and sass. “How are you going to remind Earl that he’s not a complete asshole?”

I smile despite myself, shaking my head even though she can’t see me. “No game plan yet,” I admit, plucking another strawberry and placing it gently into the basket at my feet. “I’m just … playing it by ear.”

“Playing it by ear? That doesn’t sound like you at all. You’re the queen of strategies and ten-step plans.”

I laugh softly, shifting my weight to reach further into the row. “Things are different now, Sunny. I’m trying something new: patience.”

Sunny’s scoff is audible even through the call. “Patience with Earl? That’s ambitious.”

I don’t answer right away, focusing on the rhythmic motion of picking the berries. The repetitive task calms me and lets me think. “Well, I have to. I think he’s planning to stay in town for a while. I heard him talking about renovating an office or something.”

“You sound almost happy about that,” Sunny says, and I can tell she’s raising an eyebrow on the other end of the line.

“It’s … complicated,” I admit, standing up to stretch my back. The basket is nearly full now, the strawberries bright and gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the glass roof. “But I plan to be civil at least.”

“Civil isn’t exactly a glowing endorsement,” Sunny points out.

“It’s a start,” I say, my tone firm. “I’m not going to be antagonistic all the time anymore. I’m going to try to make this work.” A small smile tugs at my lips. “I’m going to try to figure him out all over again. I think he’s—” I pause, unsure how to explain what I feel. “In the last few days, I’ve started to remember a lot of little things about him and his likes and dislikes that I forced myself to forget out of anger and sorrow. For example, he likes soup and we never ever have soup.”

“Oh God, Raven. Please don’t fall in love with him again,” Sunny admonishes suddenly.