As far as I knew, I'd gotten engaged to Prescott because he'd asked me, and because it made a certain kind of sense on paper. Anything other than that would have been news to me.
"You don't think you were just so desperate to please Mommy and Daddy that you were ready to commit yourself to their all-star team pick for your husband?"
I scoffed. "I don't know what you-"
"Charlotte, I saw you after your father turned you down for that job at his company. And I was there when your mother sniffed at your prom date and asked about his last name. I know what those people do to you. You're never good enough for them. But with Prescott, you had a chance to finally-"
"That's not true," I said, a sick feeling welling up inside me, but Valentina ignored me.
"Prescott had a better family name, a bigger inheritance, and a prettier penthouse than yours. No wonder Mommy and Daddy were so gung-ho about this union . Their social stock would climb like nobody's business."
I chewed on my bottom lip, not willing to give in yet. God, the person she was describing sounded so pathetic. Poor little rich girl, desperate for her parents to love her. That couldn't be me.
"My parents' approval is important to me, but it's not everything."
"And that's why you made the right decision and left." Valentina gave me an approving nod. "But tell me, when was the last time they really listened to what you thought or what you wanted? You can't go on like this, just living life to please them, and they need to know it."
She jerked her head toward the phone on the coffee table between us. "Tomorrow, you call. But for now? You've had a long trip. I think you should take a nice hot shower, have a nap, and then we'll hit the town. Come morning, you can decide what to say to your parents. And Luke. Maybe even Prescott too."
"You're too wise for your own good," I said, and she laughed.
"I get that a lot."
So, that afternoon, I did as she suggested. I took a shower and then lay down to sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I felt like I was in Luke's bed, waiting for his warm, strong arm to wind its way around me and pull me close. Waiting for him to smell my hair and kiss the back of my neck. Wanting him to pull me close and whisper something dirty in my ear. Waiting for something that would never come again.
Of course, in the rare moments I didn't think about Luke, I considered my life. My choices.
I was, I knew, a daughter of privilege. I had no student loans and no debt to speak of, a fancy car I hadn't paid for myself, and a black credit card I could whip out at a moment's notice.
But at what cost?
My mother's indignation when I made a choice she didn't like. My father's continued disapproval. The expectation that I would continue in their footsteps by marrying well and raising children who would live sheltered, privileged lives just like mine, with a history of cold boarding schools and even chillier romances.
And the more I thought about it, the more I realized it wasn't a price I was willing to pay.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Luke
It had been three days since Charlotte had left, and in all that time I hadn't bothered to leave the barn.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. The day she left, Duke had taken me into town and I'd gotten shit-faced drunk. Then I spent the next day in bed, pretending to be hung over, but I was really just heartbroken.
Now, though? Now, I was determined. Throwing myself into my work seemed to be the best distraction I could find.
Our first public unveiling would take place in a month, and there was still so much to do, so many events to plan. My face was rough with unshaven stubble and my eyes were dark with exhaustion, but in the end, I knew it would be worth it. The barn would house more than just a distillery-it would be a hometown tasting room complete with special lighting and ambience, all the touches that Charlotte had so carefully laid out for us.
If only I didn't see her face . . . feel her touch . . . smell her hair every second of the day.
She'd come up with half the specialty mixes for the tasting bar, the ideas for the whiskey-barrel pub tables, and the burlap coasters with the branded design on them. Even as I strung the lights from the rafters, I could recall the way she'd laughed at me when I asked why it mattered so much that we got Edison bulbs instead of twinkling Christmas lights.
"See?" she'd said. "This is why you need me."
I ran my hand over my scraggly beard, then climbed down from the ladder and snapped a few shots. Soon, I'd be sending off my ideas to investors to see if we could expand the barn-make it into a full-scale grand destination. Something for parties and weddings.