Page 77 of The Matchmaker's Cottage

Present day

Julia was exhausted.

As if the last few days hadn’t been enough, the last twenty-four hours alone had almost done her in.

She knew she was partly, if not entirely, to blame. She wasn’t delusional enough to believe that anyone else was responsible for her decisions. She had wanted all the things that had been offered to her in the last week: the attention and possible increase in clientele through the celebrity connection, the chance to start making money again, the possibilities that came with all the little excursions and things they had done, the ability to see Donwell through fresh eyes and remember why she’d loved it so much.

And Ethan. The time she’d gotten to spend with him.

If she’d said she’d never wondered how things could have turned out for them, she’d have been lying to herself. Could she have made it through life without knowing? Knowing howgood it could be? Sure—she probably would have even been better off for it. But having the opportunity come up, knowing it would be the last?

She’d never been good at saying no to the things she wanted.

Except now—now she needed to deal with the fallout. The final goodbyes, the memories that she knew would never leave her. All that she had left to sustain her.

A lot had gone on in the past several days.

Now it was over.

And she was left dealing with another unexpected visitor just as soon as the previous guests had left.

“Granddad?”

She should’ve just answered those damn calls.

Ethan whipped around to look at her like he’d been shot. She wasn’t sure why—he’d never even known her grandfather.Shebarely knew him. He was mostly a figurehead in her life, a rare visitor and, ultimately, a benefactor.

They had never had any type of real relationship. But Hank had done a lot for her, and long ago they had settled on that name for him—Granddad—and it had stuck.

When her father had sold their cottage to Maggie’s parents, he’d used some of the money for his retirement but had also set some of it aside for her—she had always known that, and it had been his way, she supposed, of making amends for selling it in the first place. That money alone, however, wouldn’t have been enough to secure her bed-and-breakfast dreams. It was only after her mother’s death that her grandfather had stepped in, ultimately offering her the trust fund that would have belonged to his daughter instead. The two gestures—one from guilt, one from grief—had become the complicated down payment for her dreams. Within weeks, Ethan’s parents had come to her withtheir life-changing suggestion and hope in their eyes about what she—and their son—could do. And she had finally felt ready to tell him. About all of it.

Until he had shattered the fantasy she’d secretly held once and for all.

But still, she had persevered. With the support of Ethan’s parents—if not Ethan himself—and the financial help of her father and grandfather, she had finally done it. She had made her dream come true.

And now she watched as it was slowly, methodically falling apart, destroying her hard work and reputation.

She looked over at Ethan, prepared to officially introduce him to this odd, tall man with bushy white hair, in a fine suit and sandaled feet, but when she looked over at him, almost eye level with her grandfather, she was shocked to see that he looked like he had seen a ghost. His complexion was pasty under the beard, his mouth agape. One finger sort of half pointed in the direction of the man in front of them. Julia got an uneasy feeling as she looked between them, both men appearing as though they held a secret she wasn’t sure she wanted in on.

“Are you…okay?” she asked Ethan finally, looking at him hesitantly as he stood beside her on the porch, trying not to feel the biting chill of the wind as storm clouds grew heavier and darker overhead. She was in a thin long-sleeve shirt, the one she had worn to bed, though no one needed to know that, and she hadn’t grabbed a jacket when she had just assumed she was going out to say brief goodbyes and then coming back in.

“Why don’t we go inside?” she continued, changing gears as neither man responded to her. “I can make us a fresh pot of coffee. Ethan—” Julia smiled at him hesitantly, feeling ready to finally reveal the truth. “There’s…someone I’d like you to meet.”

She turned her smile toward her grandfather, and he returned it, but there was something missing in his expression, the lack of a particular glint that seemed to be a staple in his looks.

“Yes, Ethan, why don’t we go inside.”

The way that her grandfather said those words caused her to snap to attention. It wasn’t the wording so much as the way he had said it. Almost…familiar? Before she could think further on it, Ethan let out a short, loud “What?”

His explosive exclamation made her look up at him in alarm.

Despite Ethan’s resistance and apparent shock, Hank was ushering him into the house, but Julia followed closely, getting in front of the men and leading them to the dining area. She was rushing ahead, while the men had fallen behind her and appeared to be in a hushed but heated conversation, the color high in Ethan’s cheeks, Hank calmer but firm in his demeanor.

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Julia asked, stopping with her hands on her hips, regarding the two of them incredulously.

There was no way they knew each other. Julia’s grandfather had never visited the cottage—had never even been around, really, except for the last few years. He hadn’t even visited her when the money had initially come into her name. Just a few phone calls in the earlier stages of getting to know each other. Some short visits in the years after. More phone calls in subsequent years, often weekly, just to check in and catch up. He lived in New York City, which was far enough to make it challenging, and she had permanently moved out of the city when she’d bought Ethan’s parents’ place, so aside from those calls that had become a staple—

“This man is myboss.”