“Nothing. I’m being stupid.”
“I doubt that.” He urged her into the library. “Tell me.”
She had work to do. Guests to see. But she couldn’t resist the temptation to give herself just five minutes with Noah.
“You’re right, it wasn’t stupid.” She had no intention of beating herself up over what had been a logical decision. “All the signs were there, otherwise why come here? I can’t believe that was coincidence. How could it be a coincidence?”
Noah closed the door behind him. “If that question is for me then I’m going to need a little more background.”
Hattie barely heard him past the noise in her head. She paced across the room, rubbing her arms with her hands.
“Have you ever just risked everything because it’s so important to you that someone knows how you feel that you don’t even pause and then you hand over your heart and your feelings and wham—just like that they drop them and everything shatters and you ask yourself if it was really worth it, and whether you should have done things differently, but you know that if you had your time again you’d do exactly the same thing because how could you not? You had to know. And now I know.” She paused to take a breath and realized Noah was silent.
“What you’re saying,” he said slowly, “is that your feelings aren’t returned?”
“That’s right. And it hurts here—” she pressed a fist to her chest “—which makes no sense at all, and I keep telling myself I was fine before I said those words so I should be fine after, but it’s different because before you say them there is hope and possibilities and now there’s none.”
“And you’re brokenhearted.”
“Yes.” She felt the warmth from the fire burning the backs of her legs. “And now you probably do think I’m stupid.”
“There’s nothing stupid about falling in love, Hattie.” His voice sounded rough around the edges. “And you can’t always choose who you fall for. Is he a guest?”
“Who?”
“The man you’re in love with.”
“Man? I never said anything about—” She stopped as understanding dawned. “No. I’m not in love. Why would you think that?”
“Because you mentioned being honest about your feelings and being rejected.”
“Yes, but not a boyfriend. Not a man. A woman. My—” she paused, stunned that he’d think she was in love “—sister.” The word felt unfamiliar on her tongue.
“Sister?” It took him a moment to catch up. “The sister your father walked out on at birth?”
“That’s right. And when you put it like that, perhaps it’s not surprising that she didn’t run along the red carpet toward me. Erica. That’s her name, by the way.”
“You told me it was Madeleine.”
They’d had long conversations about it in the months before that kiss, before their relationship had become awkward and stilted.
She missed that. She missed the days where she’d been relaxed and natural with him and said the things that she wanted to say and done what she’d wanted to do. She hadn’t policed every word and every move in case he misinterpreted things.
She forced herself to concentrate. “That’s what Dad told me, but she goes by Erica, which was why I didn’t immediately recognize the name when she made the booking. I wasn’t expecting her to turn up here, but the moment she stepped through the door I felt—it’s hard to explain—I just knew. I recognized her, even though I’d never seen her before.”
“Family resemblance?”
“Yes. And the way she stared at the photo on my desk. I knew. I expected her to say something, but she didn’t. And I stewed on it and waited and then wondered if maybe she was waiting for me to say something, so I decided I should just go for it.”
He nodded. “Generally, if there’s something that needs saying it’s better to say it.”
“That’s what I thought. But I messed it up. Badly.”
“I don’t see how anything you said could have been bad.”
“It wasn’t what I said, it was what I did. I hugged her.” Remembering made her cringe. “I couldn’t help it. When she opened the door I just felt so happy that she’d come here—so happy that I had family—”
“You hugged her.”
“Yes.” She could see the smile playing around his mouth and had no idea why he’d be smiling because as far as she could see there was nothing funny about the situation.
“You were pleased to see her,” he said. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”
“That’s because you weren’t there. It was like hugging a cat. Not Panther because she is unusually cuddly, but you know what I mean—sometimes they go all stiff and rigid and you know that all they want is for you to stop so that they can get back to doing their own thing.” And now she thought about it, Erica reminded her a little of a cat. Dignified. Poised. Careful. Selective. “I handled it badly.”
“You’re being hard on yourself. There’s no rulebook for handling a situation like this.”
“True. But the fact that she hasn’t been in touch in the past twenty-eight years of my life probably should have told me something.”
“Slow down.” He was holding her arms again, his grip firm and comforting. “Breathe.”
“I’m sorry.” She breathed. “I’m a little flustered.”
“It seems so.”
She probably should have pulled away but she didn’t want to. She felt the tug of attraction, strong enough to distract her. No point in pretending it didn’t exist. No point in pretending that she didn’t feel anything. She felt plenty, but right now she had more than enough to deal with.
“I’m sure she resents me.” She shifted her focus back to Erica. “And I wouldn’t blame her. She probably took one look at the photograph of Dad swinging me and wanted to punch me.”
“I doubt she wanted to punch you.”
“You’re right. She’s elegant. Not at all the punching type.”
“And she’s here at the inn,” he said, “which must mean she intended to make contact. I agree that it can’t be coincidence.”
“Maybe not, but she didn’t act like someone who had been looking forward to talking to me.”
“Or perhaps she had a plan of how to tell you, and she’s one of these people who likes to stick to a plan.”
“Possibly, although she’s running out of time. They’re checking out tomorrow morning.” And that hurt. “They booked the whole week, but she clearly didn’t like what she saw. Whatever her expectations, I didn’t live up to them.”
“Or it’s something else entirely.”
Standing this close to him was making it difficult to think, so she stepped back. “What else?”
He shrugged. “Maybe she’s afraid.”
“She doesn’t exactly seem like the fearful type.”
“But think about it, Hattie. It’s a big deal for you. Presumably, it’s a big deal for her, too.”
“Maybe.” The antique clock behind her chimed and she turned her head and felt a flash of panic. “Is that the time? I shouldn’t be standing here. I need to take Delphi from Chloe so that she can get on with her work. She’ll be wondering where I am.”
The door opened, but it wasn’t Chloe who stood there; it was Erica.