Page 141 of Theirs for the Holidays

“I’m not!” she says. “I’m just going along with what our deal originally was. You pretended to date me for the wedding. The wedding is over. It was never real, and there’s no use pretending it was, right?”

Hearing her say that turns my stomach, and I give her a hard look, cutting her off before she can say anything else.

“Are we really going to keep pretending this is fake?” I ask, not even trying to hide the raw desperation in my voice.

She blinks up at me, looking unsure. “Isn’t it? Hasn’t it always been?”

“Maybe at the beginning,” I admit. “But now? It’s not fake for me. For any of us. Honestly, I’m not sure it ever was, if I really think about it.”

I watch the emotions play out on her face. It’s hard to pinpoint what they all are, but she’s digesting what I said, takingit in. I can see that what I said has affected her, making her swallow down whatever she was going to say next.

For a moment, I have some hope that she might be about to change her mind.

But then she shakes her head, giving me that sad little smile. “It’s not a good idea,” she whispers. “Maybe one day we can be friends again. Like we used to be before all of this. I’d like that, but I need some time.”

“Violet—”

“I gave you your five minutes.” She drags in a breath, squaring her shoulders a little even as I swear I can see tears shimmering in her eyes. “Now I really have to go. Have a safe trip to… wherever you’re going next.”

She gets in her car, and this time, I don’t stop her.

I stand frozen on the sidewalk, watching as she backs out of her parking space and heads off down to the road. My chest feels so tight that it’s hard to breathe, and I have to swallow several times to clear the lump in my throat.

Even though I got a chance to clear the air and explain to her that my brothers and I would never say anything bad about her, I can tell that she’s still stuck in her head, all of that sweet optimism I love so much about her locked down by self-doubt and the instinct to protect her heart.

I fuckinghatethat her sister could make her feel this way. That she did it on purpose. That she could make Violet feel so small and unworthy that Vi would think my brothers and I would be willing—not just willing, but eager—to cut ties and walk away from her after everything that’s happened between us.

But I’m not willing to do that, and I know my brothers feel the same. We’re not leaving, and we’re not giving up. Violet may not believe me yet, but I’m not going to stop trying to convince her that I care. That this is real to me.

Determination fills me as I stare at the place where her car disappeared around a corner, easing the cold ache in my chest.

This isn’t over.

46

VIOLET

I assumedthe conversation I had with Sawyer would be the end of it, but I was definitely wrong.

For the next couple of weeks, the three of them are everywhere, even though I don’t see them.

They don’t leave town, which is the first major surprise. I would have thought they all had things to get back to, now that the reason they were in Sweetwater Lake again in the first place is over.

After I talked with Sawyer, I thought that was basically all the closure they needed to finally let themselves go back home.

It was good closure for me too, in a way.

At least I know now that they didn’t say those horrible things about me. I should have known it was just Isabelle, being a jealous, terrible person as always. To think that my own sister would stoop so low just to hurt me makes me angry and sad all at the same time, but not surprised.

Christmas passes quietly, and I don’t go see my family. My mother calls me once, but I don’t answer. I consider blocking her, to spare myself from her reaching out more, but decide against it.

No one else from my family calls, and that hurts as much as it helps. I hoped maybe my dad would reach out, but no. He’s never going to go against my mom, and she’s firmly on Isabelle’s side, the way she always has been. So there’s nothing to hope for there, really.

I order myself a nice chicken dinner and eat it in front of the fireplace with Christmas movies on. It’s better than being at my parents’ house, getting berated for eating too much or not being joyful enough or whatever, but definitely lonely.

Rhett, Lennox, and Sawyer all text me to say Merry Christmas, and I cave and read the messages. The first ones from right after the rehearsal dinner are all them apologizing and asking to talk, saying they don’t understand what happened.

After the day when I had that conversation with Sawyer, the men switch to telling me they aren’t leaving and they don’t want to give up on this. They say that they miss me, and reading those words makes something clench painfully in my chest.