The Anonymous Notes That Destroyed My Wedding Chapter 09

The Anonymous Notes That Destroyed My Wedding Chapter 09

Ethan didn’t leave. 

He stayed in town, and every morning at seven, he 

waited outside my inn for me to come out. 

Some days I wandered around downtown Truckee. 

Other days I sat by Lake Tahoe and stared at the 

water. 

He trailed behind at a careful distance, too afraid 

to come close but unwilling to fall too far behind. 

On the third day, he left a huge bouquet of 

hydrangeas at the front desk with a note. 

“You told me this was your favorite color.” 

I glanced at them when I passed the desk, but I 

didn’t take them. 

On the fourth day, he found out I liked the berry hand pies from a little bakery downtown. He stood 

in line for two hours to buy me a box. 

He left it on the steps outside the inn. 

When I came back, I stepped around the box 

without stopping. 

On the fifth day, it started raining over Tahoe. 

He stood under an awning across the street, soaked through, an umbrella still in his hand. 

When I came out of the inn, he crossed the street in two strides and held the umbrella over me. 

“Don’t get soaked.” 

I looked at him once, then stepped out from under 

the umbrella. 

“Ethan, go home.” 

“I’m not going.” 

“What about your company? What about your 

child with Chloe?” 

“I don’t want any of it.” 

He looked at me, his eyes rimmed red. 

“I don’t want anything anymore. I just want you.” 

I stopped and gave a short laugh. 

“But I don’t want you.” 

Ethan froze where he stood. 

That night, he got drunk. He crouched outside the 

inn, pounding on the door and crying as he 

shouted my name. 

“Sienna! I was wrong! I know I was wrong!” 

“Please, come out. Just see me once!” 

“It’s over with her! I don’t want anything else!” 

I watched from the second–floor window, the 

streetlight stretching his shadow across the 

ground. 

His shoulders shook as he crouched there, like a 

dog abandoned by its owner. 

But there was nothing left in me to soften. 

He stayed on his knees until morning. 

When I went outside the next morning, he was 

leaning against the inn’s doorway, mud covering 

both knees. 

He used the wall to pull himself up and staggered 

toward me. 

“Sienna.” 

His lips were so cracked they had started to bleed. 

“Tell me what I have to do for you to forgive me.” 

I met his eyes and spoke slowly, one word at a 

time. 

“Ethan, you don’t have to do anything.” 

“We can’t go back.”