CHAPTER 65: HATTIE
“You shouldn’t be here.” “I know,” he said. “But I am.” The silence stretched, thick and fragile. I could feel my pulse in my throat, the weight of his gaze pulling me in. “Preston…” I started, but he closed the distance between us, his hand brushing mine. “I missed you,” he said quietly. I swallowed hard. “You shouldn’t say that.”
“But it’s true.” He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering just long enough to make my breath catch. “I thought about you every day,” he said. “Every night.” I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself. “You can’t keep doing this.” He exhaled, his voice rough. “Then tell me to leave.” I opened my eyes, meeting his. “You know I can’t.” He smiled, sad and knowing. “Yeah. I do.” He stepped closer, his hand finding mine, his thumb tracing slow circles against my skin. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through me. “Two days,” he said softly.
“That’s all I’ve got this time.” I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. “Two days.” He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine. “Then let’s not waste them.” The words hung between us, heavy and dangerous. I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve said no. But instead, I let myself fall into the moment—the quiet, the closeness, the way everything else seemed to fade away when he was near. When he kissed me, it wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was slow, certain, full of everything we’d both been holding back.
The world outside disappeared. He lead me back to the bedroom and once we got close to the bed he started to kiss me. He slowly traveled down the side of my neck and I accidentally let out a low moan. He stopped and his eyes slowly meet mine. He had a slight smirk on his face. “I like to hear you moan.” I started to roll my eyes but was interrupted when he pushed me down onto the bed. He slowly started to pull my shirt off and then went to my yoga pants. Once he got those off he slowly kissed the inside of thigh all the way up to my mound. I let out another moan and I could feel him smiling against my skin. He slowly pulled away and started to undress, while never taking his eyes off of me. Once the last piece of clothing came off I knew I was done for and deep down I couldn’t wait.
Later, when the light had faded and the house had gone still, we slowly redressed and sat together on the couch, his arm around me, the sound of rain tapping softly against the windows. He told me about Chicago, about the meetings, about how nothing felt right there anymore. I listened, my head resting against his shoulder, pretending for a little while that this was simple—that it could be.
When he finally stood to leave, the clock read past midnight. He kissed me once more at the door, his voice low. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” I nodded. “Yeah. Tomorrow.” He smiled, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “Goodnight, Hattie.” “Goodnight.” When the door closed behind him, I leaned against it, my heart still racing. Two days. That’s all we had. And I already knew it wouldn’t be enough.
The morning started out quiet, almost peaceful. I’d just pulled my hair into a messy bun and was debating whether to make coffee or go back to bed when I heard the crunch of tires on the driveway. I glanced out the window and froze. Preston’s truck. He climbed out, holding a paper bag in one hand and two coffees in the other, that easy grin on his face.
My heart did a strange flip. He hadn’t said he was coming by this early. I opened the door before he could knock. “You’re up early.” He lifted the bag. “Bribery. Breakfast sandwiches and your favorite coffee.” I smiled despite myself. “You didn’t have to—” He leaned in, kissed my cheek, and stepped inside. “I wanted to.” The smell of coffee filled the kitchen as he set everything on the counter. I was just about to say something when another sound cut through the quiet—tires again, this time a smaller car.
My stomach dropped. Preston looked at me. “You expecting someone?” Before I could answer, there was a knock at the door. I didn’t have to look. I already knew. Maisie. For a second, I couldn’t move. My pulse roared in my ears. Preston frowned. “You okay?” “No,” I whispered. “She can’t—she can’t see you here.” But it was too late. The door opened before I could stop it—Maisie’s voice calling out, cheerful and familiar. “Hattie? You home? I brought those new pastries for you to try—”