Page 198 of Tessa and Nash

On stage, the auctioneer raises his voice. “Two hundred dollars!”

The crowd cheers.

Nash laughs and rubs the back of his neck, playing along with the attention.

That laugh is what does it.

Because it’s easy.

Unburdened.

There is no hesitation in it.

No trace of the raw honesty he showed me that night on Old Mill Road.

I wonder if I imagined that entire conversation.

Maybe the exhaustion and adrenaline of the council meeting blurred the memory.

Maybe the cold air and the quiet road made everything feel bigger than it really was.

Maybe I simply heard what I wanted to hear.

Nash tips his hat again, flashing that easy smile as he steps down from the stage and disappears into the crowd of people congratulating the winning bidder.

The room suddenly feels too loud.

Too full of people who might be watching my face closely enough to see exactly what I’m thinking.

Maeve turns toward me. “Tessa⁠—”

“I need some air.”

Before she can stop me, I turn and push through the crowd toward the exit, weaving past laughing couples and auction tables until the doors finally swing open.

Cold night air hits my face.

I stand on the wooden porch outside the hall, breathing hard as the laughter and music spill faintly through the doors behind me.

I manage to hold it together for exactly three seconds.

Then the tears arrive anyway.

Hot.

Humiliating.

Unavoidable.

I press my hands over my face and lean against the railing, my shoulders shaking despite my best effort to stay composed.

Because for one reckless moment on Old Mill Road…

I believed him, even if it terrified me. I let myself believe I wasn’t the only one standing on unstable ground.

And now it feels painfully obvious that he never meant a word of it.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN