Love Rents A Room
Chapter 149: Where She Belonged

Chapter 149: Where She Belonged

Philip was grateful—truly, deeply grateful—that Christina had suggested it. He had always wondered how Joanne would fare in their kind of hunt. She was excellent at chasing wild hogs, sure—but how would she do laying in wait, tracking in silence, and striking with precision?

More than that, it gave him a reason to spend time with her. And finally—finally—invite her properly into their home. He had received the Smiths’ warmth and hospitality too many times to count, and the thought of returning even a fraction of that kindness to Joanne lit something quietly joyful in his chest.

His last attempt had ended in disaster. But now... now he had hope. Christina would be by his side. This time, Joanne would be treated the way she should be.

Then Christina’s voice dropped slightly. Hesitant. Weighted.

"And, darling..." she began, her brow furrowing. "That girl... Heather... she came to the house yesterday. Asking about Jeffrey... She knows that you’re planning on taking him back in the family..."

Philip’s smile vanished like smoke.

Of course, she came back.

He had warned Jeffrey. Given him every chance to see Heather for what she was—a snake in silken skin. But the boy was blind then, too entangled in the fantasy of love to see the fangs. And now...

"She’s going to circle our house until she gets what she wants," Philip said, his voice firm. "Until she meets Jeffrey again... She thinks she can move his heart again."

He didn’t need Christina to tell him what she had done. He knew his wife. She would have turned Heather away, as politely and firmly as she could. But Heather wasn’t going to vanish so easily.

"She won’t stop," Christina whispered, twisting her fingers in her lap. "And Jeffrey... he’s finally found peace, Philip. A future. He shouldn’t be dragged into this again..."

Her voice trembled—not out of fear, but motherly concern. And that, Philip understood. Still...

"Do you think she’s telling the truth?" she asked softly.

Philip didn’t answer right away. Not because he didn’t know what to say—but because he did.

His gaze was calm, but there was steel beneath it. "That’s not the point," he said. "Truth or not, it’s Jeffrey’s prerogative to handle it. He made his choices. Now he must live with them."

Christina looked at him, as if ready to protest, to plead with him to step in. But then she closed her mouth. She had done this before—let her heart lead, and it had clouded her judgment.

Philip had always known when to act. When to wait. When to stay silent.

He wasn’t turning his back on Jeffrey. No. He was giving him space to grow up.

He had a long life ahead of him. In a way, it was better he had gained experience with a woman like Heather. If he truly learned his lesson, it would make him value what he now had with everything he could. There may come a stream of women like Heather in his life, but he should know where the true value lies.

Christina nodded slowly. She still didn’t like Philip’s decision to stay away, but she trusted her husband more than she trusted her fears.

"I just hope she doesn’t hurt him again," she murmured. "And I wish Joanne is strong enough to handle Heather."

Philip’s hand rested gently over hers. "So do I."

But if she did... at least this time, Jeffrey would know who stood beside him—and who never truly did.

Christina could only sigh, her eyes drifting toward the garden as if searching for answers in the wind.

Women like Heather... they were a dime a dozen. She’d seen them all before. The kind who thought the world revolved around their whims—their beauty, their drama. The kind who couldn’t bear to see a man happy with someone else, so they came crawling back with half-truths and crocodile tears, hoping to poison the well with doubt.

Christina had faced such women her whole life. As the wife of Philip Winchester, the most competent, most desirable man in any room, she’d grown used to warding them off like flies. But she had always trusted Philip—and in turn, he had made sure she never had reason not to.

But... had Jeffrey given Joanne that kind of security?

The thought settled heavy on her chest.

Joanne was strong. Unshakable, even. But no woman should have to hold the line alone. Especially not against someone like Heather.

Was Jeffrey standing beside her? Or was he still learning how to be the kind of man who did?

Christina sighed again and gently folded her knitting aside, brushing invisible lint from her skirt. "Let’s send Joanne the invitation," she said suddenly.

Philip glanced at her.

Christina nodded to herself. "Let her come to our home. Let her know she belongs here."

And let the other woman see that she doesn’t.

-----

Joanne sat quietly on the porch, watching as her animals made their slow return to the barn in the golden haze of evening. Every instinct in her longed to follow, to check on each one with her usual care. But she couldn’t. Not today. She could hardly stand for more than a few minutes without her legs trembling beneath her.

She knew the moment she stepped into that barn, chaos would erupt.

Already, Jeffrey—the horse, not the man—had jumped his stall and come right up to the front door, whinnying with a kind of desperation that nearly broke her. She’d had to soothe him from the porch, gently coaxing him back. And Mr. Darcy, ever the gentleman, hadn’t touched his food properly in two days. He could jump the fence just as easily, but he never would. Not unless he had a reason. He was far too dignified for that.

After a while, the ache in her body became too much. Joanne rose and made her way slowly to her bedroom, each step on the stairs a reminder of what she couldn’t do anymore. She missed Jeffrey—her Jeffrey—already. He would have carried her without hesitation, with a quiet smile and no complaint. But he was away, handling the affairs of her company. She couldn’t expect him to be by her side at every moment, no matter how much her heart ached for it.

She lay down on the bed with a heavy sigh, sinking into the softness. She had fallen so deeply, madly in love... it was becoming almost irrational. She wanted him near constantly. But he had responsibilities now—her responsibilities, taken up as his own.

"Stupid," she mumbled under her breath, rolling to her side.

His side.

His scent hit her immediately—clean, woodsy, warm. Embedded in the pillow, the sheets. It surrounded her like an invisible embrace, and though he was gone, she could still feel him here.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

She almost fell asleep.

Until her phone buzzed beside her with a sudden notification.

Her heart fluttered—Jeffrey, she thought, already reaching for it.

But the screen showed an unknown number.

And a photo.