CHAPTER 66: HATTIE
She stepped into the kitchen and stopped dead. The silence that followed was suffocating. Her eyes flicked from me to Preston, to the two coffees on the counter, to the way his jacket hung over the back of a chair. Her smile faltered. “Oh.” “Maisie,” I started, my voice shaking. “This isn’t—” She blinked, her expression unreadable. “Preston?” He cleared his throat, setting down his cup. “Hey, Mais.” The air felt thick, heavy. I could barely breathe. Maisie looked between us again, her brow furrowing. “What’s going on?” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Preston stepped forward, his voice calm but careful. “Maybe we should all sit down.” She hesitated, then nodded slowly, setting the pastry box on the counter.
We moved to the table, the three of us sitting in a silence that felt like it could shatter at any second. I twisted my hands in my lap, my throat tight. “Maisie, I need to tell you something. And I need you to just… listen first, okay?” She nodded, her eyes steady on mine. I took a deep breath. “Preston and I… we’ve been talking. For a while now. And then, when he came back to town…” My voice cracked. “It just happened. I didn’t mean for it to. I swear I didn’t.” Maisie didn’t say anything. She just sat there, her expression unreadable. Preston reached for my hand under the table, his voice low. “It wasn’t planned, Mais. We didn’t want to hurt you.” The silence stretched. I could feel my heart pounding, waiting for the anger, the betrayal, the explosion I knew was coming. But it didn’t come. Maisie exhaled slowly, leaning back in her chair.
“You two really thought I didn’t know?” I blinked. “What?” She smiled faintly, shaking her head. “Hattie, I’ve known you my whole life. You think I wouldn’t notice when something changed? The way you talk about him, the way you look when his name comes up?” I stared at her, stunned. “You’re not… mad?” She shrugged. “I was, at first. When I started to suspect. But then I realized—Preston and I were over a long time ago. We were just pretending not to see it. You two… you make sense.”
Preston frowned. “Maisie—” She held up a hand. “Don’t. I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt a little. But I’m not angry. I want both of you to be happy. And if that’s together, then… okay.” Tears stung my eyes. “Maisie, I never wanted to hurt you.” “I know,” she said softly. “And you didn’t. Not really. You just surprised me.” The tension in the room eased, replaced by something fragile but real. Maisie reached across the table, taking my hand. “You’re my best friend, Hattie. That doesn’t change.” I let out a shaky laugh, wiping my eyes. “You’re too good for me.” She smiled. “I know.” Preston chuckled quietly, the first sound of relief breaking through the heaviness. Maisie stood, grabbing her coffee. “Now, if you two are done looking like you’re about to confess to a crime, I’m going to take one of these sandwiches and let you talk.”
I laughed through the tears, the weight in my chest finally lifting. When she left, the house felt lighter somehow. Preston turned to me, his voice soft. “I can’t believe that just happened.” “Me neither,” I said, still dazed. “I thought I’d lost her.” He smiled, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “Looks like you didn’t lose anyone.” I leaned into his touch, the knot of fear in my chest finally loosening. For the first time in weeks, I felt something close to peace. Maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay.
The house was quiet again after Maisie left, the kind of quiet that felt almost unreal after everything that had just happened. I still couldn’t believe it—how calm she’d been, how kind. I’d spent days terrified of losing her, and instead, she’d hugged me before walking out the door. Preston stood by the counter, watching me with that soft, crooked smile. “You okay?” I nodded, still a little dazed. “Yeah. I think so.” He reached for the paper bag he’d brought earlier. “Then let’s finally eat before this gets cold.”
He pulled out the breakfast sandwiches, the smell of bacon and eggs filling the kitchen. It hit me all at once—warm, greasy, heavy—and before I could even process it, my stomach turned violently. “Oh God,” I gasped, clapping a hand over my mouth. “Hattie?” Preston’s voice was startled, but I didn’t stop to answer. I bolted down the hall, barely making it to the bathroom before everything came up. The sound of footsteps followed, and then Preston was there, kneeling beside me without hesitation. He gathered my hair gently in one hand, his other resting on my back as I leaned over the toilet, shaking. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Just breathe.” When it was over, I sat back against the wall, wiping my mouth with trembling fingers. My face felt hot, my stomach still twisting. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t know what—” He shook his head. “Don’t apologize. You okay?”
I nodded weakly. “Yeah. I just… the smell. It hit me out of nowhere.” He frowned, studying me. “You didn’t eat anything bad last night?” “No. Just wine and pasta.” He was quiet for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was piecing something together. I could see the thought forming before he said it. “Hattie,” he said slowly, “how long has it been since…” He trailed off, his voice careful. I blinked, confused. “Since what?” He hesitated. “Since your last period?” The question hung in the air, heavy and unreal. I opened my mouth, then closed it again.