Dahlia’s presence with the society women only cemented his determination to leave well enough alone. She was a part of the world he’d walked away from, the world that had ruined his parents. And he had no desire to be pulled back into it.
“You just have to trust me,” Connor finally answered. “We wouldn’t work out.”
“You know what? That makes complete sense,” Ben said. “A beautiful woman who volunteers at hospitals and willingly tosses her number at me is exactly the kind of woman I wouldn’t want to date either.”
Connor stood up and crossed to the passenger side of the rig. “It’s more complicated than that. Can you just drive already?”
Ben raised his eyebrows but climbed in and started the rig. “Explain complicated,” he said as they pulled out of the hospital parking lot and headed back to the station.
Connor sighed. “She looks like money.”
“Okay. Why is that a problem?”
Connor shot him a wry look. “That’s not my world, man.”
“Whatever. She already knows you’re a paramedic and she still gave you her number. Biggest hurdle? Done. You’re over it.”
“She gave me her number because she liked what she saw, but that doesn’t mean she’s looking for anything serious.” Even as he said the words, Connor wondered if they were true. Dahlia had said her world had tilted. “Playing around is one thing. But I’m not looking for that anymore. And I’m not the kind of guy she’d want to take home to meet her family. Dating a paramedic is totally different than marrying one.”
“Whoa. So you’re going all the way there before you’ve even made the first phone call?”
“No. Except, yeah, I am. I’m done playing around. And if I called her, that’s what I’d be doing.”
“How can you know that if you don’t call her? I mean, I know I wasn’t a part of your private little bathroom chat, but I saw the way she looked at you when we finally got her out. She seemed pretty serious in her . . . admiration.” Ben raised his eyebrows suggestively, earning him an eye roll.
“Whatever. I know the type of woman she is. I went to school with tons of them. They marry attorneys or doctors or investment bankers and live in fancy houses on the peninsula or mansions out on Isle of Palms. The writing is already on the wall. It wouldn’t go anywhere.”
“What if you’re wrong about her?” Ben said, clearly not wanting to let the issue drop.
Connor only shrugged. “I don’t think I am.” What he couldn’t say to Ben was that even if he was, it wasn’t worth the risk. He’d lost his parents to the lifestyle it looked like Dahlia embraced. They hadn’t always had money. They’d lived a normal life on James Island, done normal things, spent time together as a family. Then his dad had sold his software company to a larger competitor and done really well with the sale. Their lives had changed almost overnight. Suddenly his parents were attending charity events and joining private clubs, buying expensive art from the galleries downtown they’d only ever browsed for fun. His mom had become an active volunteer with the Southern Society and worn the same scarf he’d seen on Dahlia and the other women. “It’s for charity, Connor,” she’d always said when she and Dad would leave, yet again, to go to some other event. Always for charity.
Then they’d decided they wanted to learn how to sail. They’d only been out on their boat twice when they got caught in the storm that had killed them. He didn’t think his mom even liked sailing. But it was what people did when they had money. Bought expensive boats and sailed them with their expensive friends.
Connor didn’t need any of it in his life. Not the society. Not the charities. Not the sailing. Not the money. He much preferred his modest apartment and blue-collar job. Even if the education he’d never gotten had saved him a lot of money, just because he could afford to buy a mansion on the peninsula didn’t mean he ever would. And he wanted to marry someone who appreciated that about him. Who didn’t need anything else.
Even though Peyton had grown up with money, she’d always been pretty grounded, so it had been easy to give her a chance. But then they hadn’t worked out. Funny. She’d ended up marrying someone with not just money, but an actual British title. Or at least his dad had one? Connor couldn’t remember all the details. Just that the dude had been introduced with “Right Honorable” before his name. That’s who Peyton’s world had tilted for. Not him. Not the normal paramedic with the normal salary and the normal apartment.
It was just one more thing to solidify his decision to not call Dahlia.
He wouldn’t be enough for her.
Not even close to enough.
He tried to get the intense blue of her eyes out of his mind, or the way his pulse had raced when she’d wrapped her arms around him right after her rescue. He’d been so thrown off, he’d actually trembled when taking her blood pressure. He hadn’t been that nervous around a woman in . . . ever.
There had definitely been sparks. Intense ones. But he couldn’t risk it.
After his shift ended, instead of driving home, he drove out to Sweetgrass Island to see Grandma June. She always helped him stay grounded when nothing else could. She knew better than anyone else how he felt about the money, and she never judged him for it.
“Grandma?” he called as he stepped into the entryway. “Are you home?”
“In here, dear,” she called.
His grandmother’s chocolate lab jumped up to greet him, and Connor reached down to scratch her ears. “Hey, Roxie. You being good today? You want to go for a walk later?”
Connor followed the sound of Grandma June’s voice to the living room where he found her sitting on the couch, a book in her lap. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.
“It’s awful quiet in here,” he said, sitting down beside her. “What are you up to?”
Roxie dropped onto her bed next to Grandma June’s chair.
“Just reading,” Grandma June answered, holding up her book. “I like the quiet when I read.”
She looked at him quizzically, as if sensing there was something wrong. “What’s brought you here on a weekday? Did you just get off work?”
He nodded. “Are you hungry? Can I pick us up some dinner, maybe?”
She shook her head. “I walked over to Mabel’s earlier. There’s leftovers in the fridge though. You’re welcome to them.”
If Mabel’s wasn’t barely a block away, Connor might have scolded his grandma for walking on her own. She was still pretty spry at eighty-two, but there was a certain frailty about her that made Connor nervous. He’d seen one too many shattered hip bones when someone elderly had accidently tumbled down a few stairs. One stupid tourist driving too fast through the island and an afternoon stroll to Mabel’s could turn deadly. He swallowed his scolding, knowing his grandma wouldn’t hear any of his fussing and moved to the fridge, pulling out a wrapped Italian sub just the way he liked it. “Leftovers, huh?” He held up the sub as he stepped into the doorway separating the living room from the kitchen.
His grandma’s lip quirked up on the side, as if she tried to hide a smile. “It’s possible I planned to lure you over here later anyway. Thought the food might help my case.”
Connor disappeared back into the kitchen long enough to grab a water bottle, then carried his food to the living room, converting the coffee table into a makeshift dining table.
“Don’t be spilling on my rug now,” Grandma June warned.
Connor nodded, pulling the table a little closer so he could lean over his sandwich wrapper as he took his first bite. He groaned at the explosion of flavor hitting his taste buds. Mabel knew what she was doing in the kitchen. “Why’d you want me to come over?” he finally asked, through a mouth full of sandwich.
“Manners, Connor. I taught you better than that.”
Connor grunted, swallowing and wiping his mouth on his napkin before speaking again. “Sorry,” he said with a grin. “Didn’t realize how hungry I was. You know you never need a reason to invite me over. I love coming out he
re.”
“And I love feeding you. This just makes it a win for both of us.” She picked up her book. “Finish your food. Then we’ll talk.”
Connor made quick work of his sandwich, despite Roxie’s best efforts to make it her sandwich, then hauled his trash back to the kitchen. He looked out the enormous windows above the kitchen sink that faced the ocean. Just feeling the breeze coming in through the open windows eased the tension in his shoulders. Call it grandma magic, or island magic, but coming out to Sweetgrass was never a bad idea.
Back in the living room, he dropped onto the sofa next to his grandma. “All fed,” he said. “What did you want to talk about?”
She closed her book, marking her page with a gleam in her eye that almost made Connor nervous. “I had an interesting conversation with Mabel today.”
Connor raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? What about?”
“She told me a beautiful woman came into the café the other day. And she asked about you.”
“About me?” The thought of Dahlia entered his mind, but that didn’t make any sense. They’d talked a lot about their childhoods, and he might have mentioned he’d spent a lot of time on Sweetgrass, but for her to come out and start asking random business owners about him? That seemed like a stretch.
His grandma nodded. “Specifically. Well, in a roundabout sort of way. She was wanting to know if someone with the initials C.M. still lived on the island.”
Connor scratched his chin. “Well that’s not necessarily me. I’m sure I’m not the only one that has those same initials. Why was she asking?”
His grandma scooted closer. “You might not be the only one with those initials, but she was asking about you, Connor. She had a letter. A letter you wrote to Santa right after your parents died. Do you remember?”
Connor nodded, a twinge of sadness filling his chest. “I do remember. It was the fire station’s thing, right?”
Grandma June nodded and patted his hand. “You were so disappointed when you didn’t get a response. I think that’s what killed Santa for you, wasn’t it? It was heartbreak layered onto heartbreak that year. Apparently though, the letter was lost and never opened. But this woman found it. And was trying to find you.”
“Huh.” Connor shrugged. “Weird.”
“Do you remember the part where I said the woman was beautiful?”
Connor rolled his eyes, finally understanding his grandma’s enthusiasm. “Beautiful in Mabel’s eyes could mean a lot of different things. She calls her sourdough beautiful.”
His grandma swatted his arm. “This is different, and you know it.”
“But I don’t know it. That’s just it. You want me to be excited about some random woman who has a letter I wrote when I was ten years old? What did Mabel tell her?”
“She told her to respond, of course. She might have even mentioned that you were a man worth getting to know and it would definitely be in her best interest to reach out.”
Connor leaned back onto the sofa. With these two women meddling in his life, he’d be married off by Christmas. And it was almost November.
“So a mystery woman that I’ve never seen is going to respond to a letter I wrote sixteen years ago, and I’m supposed to be excited about that?”
“A beautiful woman,” Grandma June repeated. “You keep forgetting that part.”
“You know as well as I do that appearance isn’t the most important thing.”
“No, but maybe volunteering to write letters for the fire station is important? You never know, Connor. And you’ve been so withdrawn lately. This could be good for you.”
He tensed, just briefly, when she’d mentioned volunteering, but quickly pushed that thought aside. He wasn’t against volunteering in general. And the fire station seemed pretty low brow. “Do we know her name?” he asked, mostly just to humor her.
She frowned. “Unfortunately, no. But she’ll likely include it when she writes.”
“If she writes.”
“Don’t be so pessimistic. Of course she’ll write. Mabel made it clear how much of a catch you are. Mark my words, Connor McKay. This is going to turn into something.”
Connor stood. “I’m going to go take a walk on the beach.”
She reached up and grabbed his hand as he passed by. “That’s all you have to say about all this?”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek, giving her hand an affectionate squeeze. “I love you, Grandma, but I won’t hold my breath.”
Chapter 5
Dahlia
“That’s just it though,” Dahlia said. She paced back and forth across her living room, her phone gripped tightly in her hand, Lily on speaker phone. “He told me he didn’t have a girlfriend. The only reason he has for not calling is not liking me. It’s been days. There’s no other explanation.”
The length of time it took Lily to respond could only mean one thing.
She agreed.
Dahlia dropped onto her couch with a huff. “I just don’t understand.”
Lily chuckled. “Welcome to life for the rest of us.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means most of us haven’t lived a charmed existence where literally every guy we’ve ever been interested in has automatically fallen at our feet. So one guy didn’t call. It’s not the end of the world. Most women have endured that very thing a lot more times than once.”
Dahlia pulled a pillow onto her lap, gripping it tightly. “I know. I’m sure I sound like such a brat right now. But I swear there was something different about this guy. The connection felt so real.” A surge of embarrassment swept over her as she thought about what she’d said to him, what she’d admitted to.
Lily was silent another long moment. “I’m sorry he didn’t call. It’s lame. And he’s missing out. Because you are definitely worthy of being called.”
“What if he lost his phone?”
“Don’t play this game, Dahlia,” Lily said. “I really think you need to let this go.”
Dahlia closed her eyes, remembering her words. My world just tilted.
She would let it go. And pray she never needed to call an ambulance. Running into him—whoever he was—after so stinging a rejection? She’d never get over the embarrassment.
“If I ever have an accident and you need to call the paramedics? Don’t, okay? Just let me die where I am. I’ll be fine.”
Lily chuckled. “This too shall pass.”
“Don’t get all philosophical on me. I’m mortified. It’s going to take a while for this to wear off.”
“At least you don’t know his name,” Lily said. “It’s saved you from being able to cyberstalk the guy.”
“Oh, believe me. I’ve tried.”
“Searching for random paramedics on Facebook not successful?”
“Not even a little.”
Lily sighed into the phone. “Hey, did you ever decide what to do with the lost Santa letter? Are you going to reply?”
“I have no idea. I mean, it seems sweet to think about finally sending a response. But responding because Mabel said he’s worth getting to know? That just feels desperate.”
“It’s not desperate. It’s polite. And maybe it will lead to something. You should write him. If anything it’ll get your mind off of your nameless paramedic.”
“It just feels stupid,” Dahlia said. “Writing actual letters by hand.”
“I think it’s romantic,” Lily said emphatically. “And what do you have to lose? The worst thing that could happen is that he doesn’t write you back.”
Lily was trying to be reassuring, Dahlia knew, but the thought of another rejection on the tail of one as blatant as the last was nearly enough to keep her from doing it. But it was just a letter. It wasn’t as if a lack of response equated to a rejection of her actual person.
She reached forward and grabbed the lost Santa letter out of her purse, staring at the address on the corner. She had definitely done crazier things in her life.
“You’re going to
do it, aren’t you?” Lily said, breaking the silence that had suddenly filled their phone call. “Your silence is very telling.”
“It would be a nice distraction. You’re right about that part.”
“Do it!” Lily practically shouted. “And then let me talk to Deacon about setting you up with one of his friends. He says a new guy just joined the firm who’s really great. We could double.”
“Absolutely not,” Dahlia said. “I love you both. I’m so glad you’re happy and having a baby and living in perfect wedded bliss. But I cannot, under any circumstances, allow the two of you to set me up on double dates. The weirdness would be too . . . weird. Can you imagine the dinner conversation? ‘So how do you three know each other?’ I can hear Deacon’s answer now. ‘Oh, we go way back. Friends since high school, and then there was that wedding that almost happened.’”
“He would never do that to you, and you know it.”
Dahlia sighed. “I know. But still. I just feel like my happily-ever-after needs to be in my own hands.” Plus, she wasn’t cut out to be an attorney’s wife. She’d never say as much to Lily though.
“I get it. But you know we’re here for you, right?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“He was stupid not to call you, Dahl.”
“I know that too.”
“I gotta go soon. Deacon’s mom will be here any minute to take me to brunch at the club.”
“Wow. I’m suddenly so glad I ran away to Bali.”
“The fact that you can even make those jokes and still have me love you is pretty remarkable, I want you to know.”
Muffled noise sounded through the phone before Lily gasped. “What are you doing here?”
Deacon’s voice sounded through the phone. “I got the morning off. Thought you might appreciate having me along for brunch with your monster-in-law.”
Lily giggled. “Your mother is anything but a monster. Be nice.”
A tiny twinge of something pulled at Dahlia’s heart. It was a funny thing. She was unequivocally happy for Lily and Deacon; but there was no way to untangle her happiness for them from her own loneliness.
The Christmas Letters: A Magnolia Bay Romantic Comedy Page 4