“Don’t get my sister drunk,” Ryder called out.
“She’s in good hands,” I called over my shoulder.
I returned to the booth, this time scooting next to her and pouring us each another shot.
She shook her head. “I shouldn’t. I’ve had too much already.”
“I’ll look out for you.” Every day and twice on Sundays.
She studied me. “Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?”
I looked into her beautiful blue eyes. There was so much I wanted to tell her. Like how I’d never gone a day without missing her or regretting how I left her. Or how seeing her again tied me up inside with longing. It was crazy how much I wanted her, considering all the time that had passed. But being in front of her, talking to her, it was like it had been ten years ago. Intense.
Understanding that our biggest hurdle was how I’d left her, I decided my best move would be to assure her. “I’m not going anywhere, Sinclair.”
10
Sinclair
I was in trouble. A trouble I couldn’t, or to be honest, didn’t want to avoid, even though I knew I’d regret it. I drank the whiskey, feeling the burn down my throat and the soft, floaty feeling in my head.
I started to see the benefits to this crazy marriage idea. Or I talked myself into seeing them because deep down, that eighteen-year-old girl was still longing for the promises Wyatt had made. And now it was in front of me again. Or maybe not again. I wasn’t sure Wyatt ever really loved me, at least not like I loved him. Maybe his words that summer had been just that; words. Empty promises. After all, if he loved me, he wouldn’t have left. He’d have at the very least made contact with me.
But even if he’d meant every word he said that summer, ten years later, sitting in a bar discussing marriage wasn’t like when we talked about it under the oak tree. Today, it was a business deal to save his and other farms in Salvation, not an act of love.
But even beyond the merits of the plan, there was a bigger hurdle to consider: Alyssa.
“How do you see this fake marriage working logistically?” I asked despite the fact that I knew I couldn’t go along with this idea.
He shrugged. “You could move into the farm with me while we battle Stark.”
“With you and your mother?”
His cheeks flushed as if he was embarrassed to live with his mother. “She won’t be in the way. Or maybe she could move into the grandparent apartment. It’s where my grandparents lived when my father took over the farm.”
I had to hand it to Wyatt. While he’d left us all without a look back, now that he was back, he seemed to be taking his role as a Jones seriously. He was working to follow the tradition set by his forefathers over a hundred years ago. It occurred to me that this tradition belonged to Alyssa too. As his daughter, the farm would go to her some day. That was if I ever told him about her. Or maybe he’d marry someone else and have the brood of children we’d talked about.
The idea of that burned my gut more than the whisky. I hated the idea of him touching another woman, much less marrying one, which was idiotic considering all that had happened and all the time we’d been apart.
In the end, I couldn’t go for the fake marriage, not so much because it was crazy or because I could get hurt. If it was just me, I might have considered it. But I couldn't do it because of Alyssa. She and I were a package deal. I couldn’t do this and leave her with my parents. People in town would expect her to be with me and my new husband. A potential husband who still didn’t know she existed, much less that she was his.
“We’ll make sure everyone knows you’re now a Jones and how we’re organizing farmers and community members in protest. We’ll let the press know. It won’t look good for Stark to take the home of newlyweds.” He continued his explanation of how the fake marriage would work.
I reached for the bottle, pouring another shot, knowing it was too much. The more he talked, the more this idea made sense, which was all the more reason to stop drinking. Still, he was correct that I’d be able to outwardly fight for the farmers instead of holding to the mayor’s stance to stay neutral. And it could help in my bid to run for mayor when my time came.
But if it went wrong…if I fell for him again and he didn’t feel the same…if we lost against Stark and he blamed me…if he left again...I didn’t know how I’d survive that.
At the same time, this was a way to put my money where my mouth was. Was I willing to do anything to save Salvation, including marry the man who broke my heart? And maybe it would give me the time and insight into him I needed to let him know about Alyssa. To discover the type of father he’d be.
Before I could drink my next glass, Wyatt took it from me. “You shouldn’t have to get wasted to talk yourself into marrying me.” He stood and reached out his hand to me. “Let me take you home.”
I knew I couldn’t drive, but I didn’t want Wyatt to be the one to drive me home. As it turned out, I still lived with my parents too, but that was in the process of changing now that I’d paid my student loans and saved for a down payment on a house for me and Alyssa. But more than not wanting him to know I still lived at home was that I didn’t want him to get wind of Alyssa. Even as I thought that, I felt like a horrible person.
“I’ll get a ride from Trina,” I said, trying to pull my hand away from his because his touch sent electric sparks through my body.
Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “She’s still drinking! Please, Sinclair. Let me do this.”
It was those green eyes that finally did me in. The way he’d look at me like I was the only woman in the world. Between that and however much I’d had to drink, I couldn’t refuse.