Chapter 137

~ Clinton ~

The drive to the Hamptons felt lighter than the week that had come before it. Sunlight danced across the windshield as I steered the car toward Juniper’s, the fancy waterfront restaurant I had chosen for our afternoon together. Annie sat in the passenger seat, her window cracked just enough for the sea breeze to tease strands of her hair across her face. She looked happy—genuinely happy—and for a few precious hours, I let myself enjoy the feeling of normalcy.

We were shown to a quiet table with a view of the sparkling water. Annie’s eyes widened the moment we sat down, taking in the elegant décor: soft linen tablecloths, crystal glassware, and walls adorned with original maritime art that gave the place both sophistication and soul.

"Wow, this restaurant is beautiful," she breathed, gaze sweeping across the room. "Look at the art it has—those paintings feel alive."

"It has character," I agreed, nodding as I settled into my chair.

"I know, right?" She smiled, the excitement in her voice making the corner of my mouth lift despite everything weighing on me.

A waiter appeared promptly, notepad in hand. "Are you both ready to order, sir? Ma’am?"

"Yeah," we said in unison, sharing a small laugh at the perfect timing.

"I’ll have the Caesar salad with salmon," Annie said smoothly, scanning the menu one last time. "For the drink, diet coke and water, please." She handed her menu over with a polite smile.

"And for you, sir?" the waiter turned to me.

"Truffle mac and cheese with a side salad and iced tea," I replied, passing my menu across the table. "Add some bread rolls as well."

Annie frowned slightly, tilting her head. "Why add bread rolls?"

"Because you should eat them—you’re so thin," I teased gently.

"For your information, Clint, I’m hot and thin," she shot back with a playful glare. "And besides, I don’t do carbs."

"That’s true—you are hot," I conceded, "but even if it’s carbs, you still need actual food in your mouth."

"I’m not complaining. Besides, I ordered a salad," she reminded me, crossing her arms.

"Okay, if you don’t want the bread, it’s fine. It’ll just sit here and make the table look beautiful and fancy," I said, gesturing dramatically. We both burst out laughing, the sound drawing a few amused glances from nearby tables.

"Oh my God, Clint, you are so unbelievable," Annie said, still giggling as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

"I know," I replied, grinning as the laughter faded into a comfortable quiet.

A peaceful moment stretched between us before Annie leaned forward, her expression turning more thoughtful. "So tell me, Clint... how have you been since I left New York?"

"Lonely, not gonna lie. But I had to adapt," I answered honestly, the words carrying more weight than I intended.

"Meaning you didn’t miss me?" she asked slowly, narrowing her eyes in that familiar, playful way that still made my chest tighten.

"Don’t get me wrong, Annie—I did miss you. I missed you enough that I cyber-stalked you on Facebook for a while, back before your old account went dormant," I admitted.

She gasped dramatically. "You did not!"

"I did," I chuckled. "I adapted in the sense that being lonely forced me to find things to keep me company—work, routines, whatever filled the silence."

"Hmm... things to keep you company like a girlfriend?" she pressed, still narrowing her eyes. "And speaking of girlfriends... do you have one?"

"Surprisingly enough, I don’t have a girlfriend," I replied. The moment the words left my mouth, Octavia’s face flashed in my mind—her soft smile in the hospital bed, the way she called me by name even without full memories. Imagining her as my girlfriend felt both right and painfully complicated, especially while she was still legally tied to Franklin.

"That’s good news," Annie said, her face lighting up with unmistakable happiness.

Our lunch arrived shortly after, plated beautifully. We dug in, the flavors rich and satisfying against the backdrop of gentle waves visible through the large windows.

"Why is it good news?" I asked between bites, genuinely curious.

"Because I can finally shoot my shot," she replied boldly, forking another piece of salmon. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

"Come on, Clint. Isn’t the sign obvious? I really like you," she continued, her tone shifting from playful to sincere.

"I see that, Annie. I see it... I like you too, but—" I paused, the words catching in my throat as she looked at me with those curious, hopeful eyes.

"But what?" she asked, confusion flickering across her face.

"I don’t know," I shrugged, avoiding the deeper truth.

"But you were going to say something, so I’m all ears," she pressed gently.

"Just forget what I said. Just know that I like you," I offered instead, the half-truth feeling heavy on my tongue.

She studied me for a long moment, then smiled softly. "You like me... or you love me?"

"It’s in between," I answered carefully.

"Clint, it’s either you like me or you love me. I want to know," she insisted, pointing her fork at me in mock accusation.

"I think I use to love love," I said slowly, the admission slipping out before I could stop it.

"Woah—you think? Use to?" she asked, eyes widening.

I nodded reluctantly.

"What happened to the boy who professed his love to me when we were teenagers?" she teased, leaning closer. "I still remember coming home from school and finding that love letter on my bed. You wrote so many romantic words. I was touched."

"I was fifteen," I rolled my eyes, though the memory brought a reluctant smile.

"A sweet fifteen-year-old boy who turned into a handsome, sexy man—the man I’m looking at right now," she said, her voice warm and sincere.

"Okay, that’s enough," I laughed, trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory.

"It’s not," she sighed dramatically, returning to her salad. "I miss the old Clinton I used to know."

"You miss the naïve, dumbass, rebellious Clinton back then?" I quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes. That version of Clinton," she nodded firmly.

"Want to know something?" she asked after a beat.

"What? Tell me."

"I liked you too back then—in the same way you had feelings for me," she confessed softly.

"You did?" My eyes widened in genuine surprise.

"Mmm-hmm. It was just that my mom didn’t want me dating anyone because I was too young. She wanted Ayanna and me to focus on our studies."

"I understand," I said quietly, remembering Trudy’s protective nature.

"But now that we’re both adults, we can finally succumb to our feelings. This time, my mom won’t stop me from being with you," she added with quiet determination.

"Let’s just take everything slow, okay?" I suggested, needing time to untangle the knot in my chest.

"Sure," she agreed, reaching across the table to pat my hand gently.

"Tell me more about New Orleans." I spoke up.

We spent the rest of the meal talking easily. She told me about her mural project that had taken three long months, describing its massive scale with animated gestures. She spoke about a past boyfriend she had dated for six months before they parted amicably, and about the other creative projects that had kept her busy. Listening to her was refreshing—Annie had always possessed a brightness that could lift even the heaviest mood. For a little while, the threats, the gun at my head, and the shadows surrounding Octavia felt distant.

After lunch, I drove her back to the estate. By the time we reached, dusk was already approaching. We were still in the car when she turned to me, her expression soft.

"Thank you, Clint, for today. I had fun."

"Me too," I smiled, meaning it.

She glanced at the mansion, then back at me. "I’m curious... why did you leave the estate? I asked my mom, but her answer wasn’t clear."

"What was her reply?" I asked carefully.

"That you and your father had a misunderstanding."

"Well, that’s true. We had a misunderstanding," I said, keeping my tone even.

"It seems like you’re lying. There’s more to it, so do us a favor and speak the truth," she pressed gently.

How was I supposed to tell her that my father was involved in blackmail, threats, embezzlement, and money laundering? That he had wanted me to spy on Franklin’s wife to destroy the Flemington family, and that I had walked away because I couldn’t stomach it anymore? The truth was too dark, too heavy for this bright afternoon.

"Maybe one day I’ll tell you," I said instead.

"Jeez, Clint—is it that bad that you can’t just tell me what really happened?" she asked, concern deepening in her eyes.

"It’s a long story. Someday I will. I promise."

She stared at me for a long moment, then sighed in defeat. "Fine."

"Call me when you get home, okay?" she said, leaning over to kiss my cheek softly.

"I will. And oh—tell your mom I couldn’t stay for the tacos."

"You do know that if I tell her that, she’ll be angry with you," Annie warned with a grin.

"I know, but still—just tell her."

"Fine, I will. Goodnight, Clint," she said, smiling as she hopped out of the car.

"Goodnight, Annie-bell."

She grinned one last time before walking toward the mansion. I waited until she disappeared inside, then drove off the estate grounds, heading back toward my apartment. My mind, however, stayed behind—replaying the afternoon, the easy laughter, Annie’s hopeful eyes...and the heavy truth I still couldn’t bring myself to share.