by Linda Seed
That’s what they all needed: some perspective.
The argument made sense to him as he packed his stuff and loaded Eddie into his cat carrier. Drew had a client waiting for a boat, after all. He couldn’t just abandon the project. He had a life on Salt Spring Island. He had obligations.
He’d missed his flight when he’d decided to stay around to bond with the Delaneys—and look how well that had turned out—but he figured if he went to the airport, he could catch the next one available.
And if that didn’t work out, he could always keep the rental car for a couple more days and drive.
All he knew right now was that he needed some space, some time to think. He needed to separate himself from the anger and hurt he’d caused. He needed to get away from the chaos of his relationships with the Delaneys, and from the uncertainty that had pervaded his life since they’d come into it.
He just needed to get away from here and back to his home, where nobody thought he was a terrible person, and nobody was looking to him to fix some colossal mess that he’d made.
Home was quiet, and it was simple. He ate, he slept, he ran his errands, and he built his boats, and when he got lonely, he had Eddie to keep him company.
Easy.
He drove to the airport trying not to think about what he was leaving behind, or about how everyone had been right about him.
Megan waited for Drew to call, and when he didn’t, she tried to tell herself to be patient.
Of course he would call. Everything that had happened between them had been magical, electric. There was no way he could walk away from that.
Unless she was the only one who’d felt it.
Unless he’d only said he did, to get her out of her underpants in the utility closet at the hotel.
She went about the rest of her day feeling more than a little pathetic, and more than a little like a cliché. Was she fifteen again? Because that was how it felt—letting a guy kiss you behind the bleachers and then wondering if he was going to laugh about it to his friends. Wondering if you were ever going to hear from him again, or if you’d see him near the lockers with his arm around another girl.
It was remarkably like that, except Megan had let him do a lot more than kiss her.
She ran through it all in her head as she examined Mrs. O’Neal’s Weimaraner for cervical spondylomyelopathy. She tried to focus on the alignment of the dog’s spine instead of on her love life, and she thought she was doing a fine job of it until she realized Mrs. O’Neal was talking to her and she hadn’t heard a word of it.
“ … should check.”
Megan raised her head from where she’d been bent over the dog.
“What? I’m sorry … What were you saying?”
Mrs. O’Neal was visibly irritated. “I said, she’s been walking normally, but my friend Opal’s Weimaraner had this problem, so I thought I should check.”
“Oh. Of course. I’m a little bit distracted today.”
“Distracted!” Mrs. O’Neal gave Megan a haughty glare. “Do I have to find a different vet?”
“No, of course not.” Megan attempted to look as efficient, focused, and doctorly as possible. “I assure you I’ll give Bela my full attention.”
“Well, I hope so.” Mrs. O’Neal sniffed.
The truth was, there was nothing wrong with Bela other than the fact that she was saddled with an overly anxious owner. Megan wondered if she should do some X-rays anyway, just to reassure Mrs. O’Neal that she knew what she was doing.
Ethically, though, she couldn’t justify the expense or the annoyance to the poor dog, who appeared to be in perfect health.
She informed Mrs. O’Neal that Bela had neither cervical spondylomyelopathy nor any other detectable health condition, and received exactly the response she expected—judgment and disdain.
“Why, you didn’t even perform any tests!”
“Testing for a condition your dog doesn’t have would be expensive and unnecessary, Mrs. O’Neal,” Megan said. “But if she starts to show any symptoms …”
“Symptoms! I came in today so we could catch this before she shows symptoms.”
“But—”
“I should think you’d want to be proactive, as a medical professional …”
“But I—”
“Come on, Bela.” Mrs. O’Neal snapped on the dog’s leash and led her out of the exam room, pausing briefly at the reception desk to write a check for the exam while grumbling loudly about distracted doctors, poor, suffering animals, and the sorry state of veterinary care.
Ellie, Megan’s vet tech, who also worked as receptionist as the need arose, watched Mrs. O’Neal with raised eyebrows as the woman went outside to her car.
“Well, she was pissed.”
“Yeah.” Megan propped an elbow on the reception desk and slumped. “I had the nerve to tell her that her dog was healthy.”
“Usually, that’s considered good news.”
“Usually.”
Bela was the last appointment on her schedule today, but there was still half an hour until closing time. Megan thought about all of the useful things she could do: updating patient files, sending out vaccination reminders, cleaning out the storage room, accounting. She needed to place an order with her pharmaceutical supplier, and she needed to restock the supply drawers in the exam rooms.
She had Ellie until closing time; between the two of them, they could get a lot done if they put their minds to it.
But Megan’s heart wasn’t in it, and she knew any attempt to focus and be productive would be futile.
“Why don’t you just go home early, Ellie? We’re not expecting anybody else, and any emergency calls will ring my cell.”
“Sounds good.” Ellie, a woman in her midthirties with ash-blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and a commendable ability to make friends with even the most irritable of the animals who came into the clinic, peered at Megan with concern. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, of course.” Then Megan gave up the pretense, and her shoulders slumped. “Well … no. Not really.”
“What’s wrong? Can I help?”
“Thanks, but no. You can’t. Unless you can psychically will a particular man to call me, or text me, or send me a freaking smoke signal to let me know what the hell he’s thinking.”
She hadn’t meant to unload like that, but now that she had, she felt a little better.
Ellie leaned forward conspiratorially. “I heard you got caught in the barn making out with Liam’s cousin.” She made a face. “Yikes.”
Megan drew back in surprise. “You heard that? How?” The incident was only a few hours old, and there’d been no one here in the clinic except their scheduled clients. Had one of them already heard? And if so, who’d told them and when?
“I have ways,” Ellie said. “Mysterious ways.”
In a way, it was helpful that Ellie knew, because that meant Megan could seek her advice.
“If you make out with a guy in a barn, and let’s just say for the sake of argument that it wasn’t your first time doing … things … with the guy, and you get caught by the guy’s cousin who’s also your ex, wouldn’t you expect the guy to at least call afterward for a debriefing? The first guy, I mean. Not the ex.”
“You might,” Ellie agreed thoughtfully. “Or, because you’re an adult woman with autonomy and access to a phone, you might call him instead of waiting for him to take the initiative.”
Megan considered that. She’d resolved not to call him—and for good reasons. But now, that resolve was beginning to crumble.
“You’re right. I’m an adult woman. I’m independent. I’m fully capable of taking action instead of being passive. Why wouldn’t I call him? Am I so indoctrinated in the traditional gender roles that I believe he has to be the one to make contact? Am I that much of a …” She searched for a word. “… a sheep?”
Ellie wrinkled her nose. “Kinda seems like it.”
“Well … crap.”
Ellie was right.
Megan needed to just call him. She needed to just ask him the questions that were on her mind: Did you talk to Liam? Are we a thing now? Are you going to run away? Do you feel the same way about me as I do about you? What are we going to do?
Instead of calling him, she decided this was a conversation they should have in person.
He certainly wouldn’t be at the Delaney Ranch right now, after all that had happened with Liam. Some people in this situation might stay there and try to work things out, but that wasn’t Drew. Drew would retreat to think things over.
So, it made sense to try his hotel.
She locked up the clinic, said goodbye to Ellie, and climbed into her truck for the short drive to Moonstone Beach.
“He isn’t here,” the middle-aged woman at the hotel reception desk informed Megan.
When Megan had arrived, she’d knocked on the door of Drew’s room, and some other guy had answered. Foolishly, she’d thought he must have changed rooms.
“Did he go out?” she asked stupidly. “I can wait.”
“He checked out, honey,” the clerk said. “A couple of hours ago.”
“He … he checked out?” Somehow, the words weren’t making as much sense as they should have.
“That’s right. He told me this morning he’d be staying a couple more days, but I guess he changed his mind. Too bad, too. I had to charge him for late checkout. I hated to do that, but it’s the owner’s policy.”
“Oh.”
“I can’t give you his contact information—against policy. Sorry about that. But if he calls in for any reason, I can—”
“I have his number,” she said numbly.
“Oh. Well, then you can just give him a call,” the woman said, as though it were just that simple. As though it were not an issue that he’d apparently left town without even saying goodbye. As though that didn’t hurt at all.
Chapter Thirty-One
In the rationalizations Drew constructed for himself, he wasn’t abandoning Megan. He wasn’t running away. He wasn’t even avoiding his problems.
He was simply doing what he’d planned to do from the beginning—going home after the wedding was over. And if that meant that everyone involved could avoid the inevitable conflicts and confrontations, well, so much the better.
He could call Megan later and tell her why he’d left. He could explain it all to her, how he was saving everyone unnecessary strain and discomfort. And then he could figure out when and how they were going to see each other again.
Surely there had to be a way for them to be together without all of the misery and drama.
He just had to think about what it was.
He turned in his rental car at the San Luis Obispo airport, then took a shuttle to the terminal. He carried his cat and his luggage to the Delta desk to see if he could get a flight.
The first one available wasn’t leaving until the next morning. He booked the flight, and then caught a cab to a nearby Motel 6 he’d found on his phone.
At the motel, he checked in, moved his stuff into the room, and then took Eddie outside to a little patch of grass near the pool where he could walk around and pee.
As Drew stood there watching the cat sniff at a patch of weeds, he didn’t feel well. He felt tired, lonely, and sick, as though some unnameable virus had attacked both his body and his mind. Nothing in his world was where it was supposed to be. He felt as though all of the pieces in his personal life puzzle had been shaken and scattered, some never to be found again.
It’s the Delaneys. Redmond and Liam … all of it.
He felt certain that if he could just get home, get back to Salt Spring Island and his cottage with its workshop full of sawdust and tools and his partially built boat, he’d be okay. He’d be able to focus and shake off this unsettled feeling.
He lay back on the bed—ignoring any thoughts of where the bedspread might have been and under whom—and stared at the ceiling. While he lay there, a text came in from Tessa: Can’t we please just talk? He deleted that one. She hadn’t wanted to talk to him when he’d been broke and alone. She hadn’t been much interested in anything he’d had to say then.
He checked his voice mail and found messages from a luxury car dealer, a charity he’d never heard of, and a Realtor hoping to tell him about a piece of property that would make a wonderful investment.
He deleted them all, feeling more alone than he could remember feeling since the day Tessa had left him.
Eddie curled up on the bed next to him, and Drew stroked his head and thought about Megan.
The thought of Megan made him feel so many conflicting things that he didn’t know how to begin to sort them out. He felt warm and excited, and also scared out of his mind. He wanted her, but he was afraid to want her. He yearned for her from within the deepest parts of himself, and yet that yearning was all mixed up with his feelings about Tessa. About having loved someone, and then having been abandoned.
He needed some perspective, that was all. He needed time to think.
He was still fully dressed and lying atop the bedspread when he fell into a restless sleep. Drew was just starting to dream—something about wandering through an abandoned house with a maze of too many rooms—when his phone rang.
He checked the display: Julia.
Drew’s first instinct was to turn off the phone without answering, but he’d come far enough in the past couple of years, at least, to know that he had to resist the impulse.
He accepted the call.
“Jules.”
“Where are you?”
“Don’t start.”
“Don’t start what? It was a simple question. You were here in Cambria, and now you’re not. Where are you?” Her voice had started out calm enough, but it was gaining volume as she went.
“I just thought it would be better if I left.”
“Better for who? For who, Drew?”
“For everybody.”
She was quiet for a moment, and he could practically see her face, the frustration and judgment.
“You need to stop doing this.” And now her voice wasn’t angry or shrill. It was just sad.
“Doing what?” But he knew. He knew what he was doing.
“Running away, Drew. Taking off and hiding when life gets hard. Life is hard! Get used to it! Mom lied to you about who your father was, and that sucks. It really does. But now you’ve got money, and a new family who want to get to know you, and a really great woman who’s falling for you … and okay, let’s put aside the fact that she was Liam’s girlfriend. The point is, you’ve got a lot to be happy about, but you’re not!”
He sighed and closed his eyes and felt the world slipping away from him. “Tessa was a really great woman who fell for me once. And look how that turned out.”
“That’s what this is about? Tessa? About you being afraid of getting dumped again? God, Drew …”
“She wants to get back together, did I tell you that? Now that I’m rich, apparently whatever flaws I had are suddenly tolerable.”
“Oh … no. You’re not going to—”
“Of course not. I’m not stupid.”
“Well …”
“Okay, I’m not that stupid. But … how do I know it won’t happen again? With Megan?”
Julia’s voice turned tender. “You don’t. You can’t. But you have to at least try, or you’ll never know what could have been.”
They sat in silence, together over the phone line, while he thought about that.
“Everyone’s pissed at me,” he said.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Julia said. “You’ll survive.”
He hung up the phone, got undressed, and got under the covers. Then, with Eddie beside him, he stared at the ceiling until finally, he slept.
Megan didn’t want to cry over a man. She didn’t want to be that kind of woman, especially when the man in question was someone she’d known for all of a week.
But the fact was, when you felt something so irresistibly compelling with so
meone that you threw out all of your principles and behaved in ways that you normally wouldn’t, and that person left without saying a word to you, it hurt. It hurt so much that a little crying didn’t seem unreasonable.
That’s what Megan was doing—crying in her pajamas, with Bobby on her lap and a glass of wine in her hand—when the doorbell rang.
Of course, her first thought was that it was Drew. That he’d come back for her, that he’d never actually left town without saying goodbye in the first place. There’d been some mistake, that was all. And now she was going to feel stupid to have misjudged him.
That was why she flew off of the sofa, dropping Bobby unceremoniously out of her lap and onto a sofa cushion, as soon as she heard the chime. She composed herself carefully with her hand on the doorknob, not wanting to look too pathetically eager.
Still, she was pathetically eager. And her heart, which had soared just moments before, came crashing down painfully when she opened the door and saw Liam standing there on his crutches.
“Oh. Liam. I … You didn’t drive here yourself with that leg, did you?”
“Hell, no. My dad’s in the car.”
He looked embarrassed, angry, and more than a little uncomfortable. She was certain he’d come here to tell her what a horrible person she was for what she’d done to him—and she deserved it. She stepped back to let him in.
“Liam, I’m so …”
“Save it.”
Fresh tears started to flow, so she grabbed some tissues from the box on the coffee table and snuffled into them.
“Go ahead.” She threw her arms up into the air. “Go on. Tell me I’m a miserable excuse for a human being. You can say it. Have at it!” She plunked down onto the sofa, the wadded-up tissues in her hand.
He came the rest of the way into the house and shoved the door closed behind him with a crutch. “That’s not what I came for, but now that you mention it.”
She blew her nose and looked up at him through reddened eyes. “It’s not?”