by Olivia Miles
“Oh, yes there was, Mark. It’s damn personal.” The magnitude of what he was telling her hit her in waves. Would he really go into business Cassie when he wouldn’t with her? “Are you going to accept her offer?”
Mark waited a beat. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“You haven’t decided yet?” She choked on a laugh, even though there was nothing amusing about any of this.
“Cedar Valley isn’t that far from here. Did you honestly think I was going to run that diner for the rest of my life?”
“Considering it has your name on it, I suppose I did.” She knew deep down that wasn’t true. “I knew you were capable of more, though.”
“And I know it, too,” he insisted.
“You said you’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
“That’s right. I want a restaurant, Anna. A restaurant of my own.”
Her heart began to race as understanding took hold. “Those recipes, all those notes I found in your kitchen. They weren’t plans for the diner, were they?”
“No.”
“What were they for?”
He shrugged. “Plans. Ideas. For what, I don’t know. I just know I needed more than I had here. More than Briar Creek could give me.”
“So why didn’t you do something about it?” Suddenly she knew. She shook her head, feeling the bitter sting of tears.
“I needed to win that contest just as much as you, Anna.”
She laughed again, even as the tears started to fall. “So after this weekend, after I told you how I felt. After we…” She swallowed hard. “You had one foot out the door, just like you always did.”
“Anna—”
She took a step back, holding up a hand. Her mind was spinning, and despite the tears blurring her vision, she’d never seen him more clearly.
“You were willing to go into business with Cassie, but you weren’t willing to open that restaurant with me. Why?” She hated the way her voice broke on the end of her question. Too much hurt had been buried for too long. It didn’t matter that she’d come out strong—better, possibly—what mattered was that he’d let her down. Again.
“It’s different—”
She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “How?”
He pulled in a sigh but when he met her eye, she knew she was about to get a straight answer from him. For a split second, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.
“Because it could never be just business with you, Anna. It had to be personal, too.”
“And you didn’t want that,” she finished for him.
He closed his eyes briefly, wincing as he shook his head, and something deep within her, the last bit of herself she’d protected from him, broke. “Not then.”
“How long would you have stuck around if you’d known about the baby?” She was trembling, her entire body shaking like a leaf in the wind as she stared at him.
“Don’t do this—”
“Answer me.” She bit down on her teeth, willing herself not to cry.
“I told you I would have been there for that child. I would never, ever turn my back on my own child.”
“And me?” She folded her arms across her chest, hooking her eyes on his.
Mark stared at her, his lids slightly drooping. “I don’t know what would have become of us. All I know is that the restaurant destroyed my family, and I sure as hell didn’t want the same outcome with you and me.”
She stared up at the house, at the dark window at the front, imagining the dread of stepping inside, hearing nothing but the echo of her own shoes against the floorboards. That day she’d read the test and gone to tell him, only to find him with Cassie, she’d come back to her room, knowing with certainty that he would never return. His T-shirt was tossed on the bed where he’d left it that morning, and his spare toothbrush was propped in the holder on her bathroom sink. She’d closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, sinking down onto the ground, wracked with sadness, and loss, and fear. She’d let it consume her. Well, never again.
“You know that little bird you won for me at the carnival,” she said, glancing at him.
He frowned, seeming confused by the sudden change of topic. “You have it in your bedroom. You still kept it.”
“That day you ended our relationship, I came home and cleared out all your stuff. Everything that reminded me of you. I wanted it gone. But that bird… I wanted something to remember the happy times. I really loved you, Mark.”
Mark closed his eyes briefly. “You never told me.”
“Would it have mattered?” She knew the answer to that. “It wouldn’t have changed the inevitable.”
Mark’s brow pinched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means we never stood a chance. You never gave us one.” She shook her head, stepping backward. “I have to go.”
“Anna.” His voice was husky. Insistent. “Stop fixating on the past. I’m here now. I’m trying, Anna. I’m… trying to make this work. Can’t you see that? Don’t walk away.”
Her pulse missed a beat. For a second, he was her friend again. Just Mark. The same old Mark who had teased her in class and then followed her all the way back to her dorm, and who walked her back every day after that. The Mark who had kissed her on the beach under the orange glow of the summer sun, and who had stroked her hair as she fell asleep in his arms. The same old Mark who had stolen her heart… and then stomped all over it.
Mark reached out and grabbed her arm, his dark gaze was hooded, locked with hers. “Cedar Valley isn’t even far from here. It doesn’t have to be one or the other, Anna. I can do both.”
For a moment she wavered, feeling the heat of his breath, the way his shoulders rose and fell with emotion. Maybe he was right. Maybe they could make it work this time. But if they didn’t? How many more times would he let her down, remind her of the way he’d crushed her all those years ago? Their past was too deep. There was no way out of it.
“I have to go,” she said, tearing her arm from his. He stepped forward, calling out her name, and she could feel his tread behind her as she ran up the stairs, her key already in her hand. She pulled open the door and walked into the hall, quickly shutting herself in her dark apartment. She didn’t cry, or dare to look out the window. Instead, she marched to her kitchen, tied on her apron, and plucked the lid off the flour canister.
CHAPTER
30
Mark splashed cool water over his face and looked up into the mirror, hating the man he saw staring back. He gripped the counter tighter, putting his weight into it, and then grabbed a towel from the rack.
Scout began to whine and paw at his leg. Mark looked down into his big brown eyes and grinned. He needed to get out of this house, take a walk and clear his head. As soon as he grabbed the leash from the hook, Scout began to jump, his big, bushy tail waving with excitement. If only he could please everyone so easily, he thought wryly.
Mark opened the door, and Scout released a loud bark at the sight of Luke, standing on the porch. His grin faded as the dog jumped up on its hind legs and set his paws on his chest. “Someone’s happy to see me,” he remarked, gently coaxing Scout down.
Mark frowned and let Scout off his lead, guiding him down the porch steps and around the side of the house to the fence gate. “Go on, have a good run.” He picked up a ball from the ground and chucked it far. Scout bounded across the lawn for it, and then became distracted by the trail of a scent. Deciding he was good on his own for a while, Mark circled back to the front of the house, where Luke was sitting in an Adirondack chair.
“Beer?”
Luke shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. I’m meeting Grace in an hour. I was passing by on my way home from work; just thought I’d drop in.”
“Long day?” Mark lifted an eyebrow as he settled into the next chair. Across the gravel driveway, the forest was deep and lush. A branch rustled, and a squirrel zipped up a trunk. High above, birds circled and swooped, chirping loudly. It was peace
ful here, and remote. He’d chosen this house for those reasons precisely, but more and more, it made him lonely, reminding him of his place in the world—the position he’d so carefully chosen. It was fun to banter with the locals and chat with a date, but at the end of the day, he was alone. He was tired of being alone.
“I had two kids in my office today,” Luke said. “Recess fight. I gave them detention for a week and called their parents.”
Mark stared at him in wonder. “I still can’t picture it. You. School principal.” He chuckled under his breath.
Luke gave a quizzical smile. “What’s so funny about it?”
“I mean, it’s just… so serious. So adult of you.”
Luke tipped his chin. “I’m thirty-one years old, Mark. Hell, I’m old enough to be the father of most of the kids at the school. We both are.”
Mark’s gut knotted and he grew silent, choosing to focus on the forest again. “Think you and Grace will have kids soon?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Hopefully,” Luke said. “I’m counting on you to be the fun uncle, so to speak. Between my sisters and Grace’s sisters, any child of ours will most likely be spoiled rotten.” He pretended to be annoyed by this, but Mark could see it pleased him to no end.
“You can count on me,” Mark said. He frowned, considering the implications of his words. He’d never said that to the one person who needed to hear it the most. When she needed to hear it.
Luke would make a great father, a loyal, invested father. The kind of father a kid deserved. He gritted his teeth, wondering if the same could be true of himself. If he would have been the man that Anna needed him to be in the end—if he would have been the man their child deserved.
Anna had worried he’d run, just as he had with her. It was his father who ran—not him. Not anymore.
“Did Grace decide on her maid of honor yet?” Mark asked, shifting the conversation.
Luke shot him a glance, his mouth twitching. “Anna.”
Arm in arm down the aisle with Anna. Wasn’t there some kind of formal dance required of them, too? “She’s not going to be happy about putting up with me all night,” Mark grunted.
Luke arched a brow in interest. “What did you do?”
Mark shrugged. “I blew it.”
Luke narrowed his eyes. “Then or now?”
“Both,” Mark said grimly.
Luke leaned in. “You love her?”
“What?” Mark pulled back in his chair. “You know I don’t believe in that crap.”
Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “Then why’d you push me to get back together with Grace?”
“Well, that’s different. That’s you.” Mark let out a long breath, wishing Luke would drop it.
“You knew I’d be happier once I gave my relationship a second chance.”
Mark drummed his fingers against the arm of his deck chair. “Are you telling me I’ll be happier if I do the same?” His gut knew the answer, but he needed confirmation.
Luke shrugged. “Unless living in this house all by yourself is more fun.”
“Hey, I have Scout,” Mark pointed out, only half serious.
“The day you got that dog, I gave you one year.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mark demanded.
His cousin looked at him squarely. “Face it, Mark. You don’t want to be alone.”
Mark felt his lips thin. No. He didn’t.
He shifted in his chair, not knowing how to answer that. Of course he had feelings for Anna. He always had. But it didn’t mean he should act on them. He never should have acted on them. He’d done exactly what he’d hoped to avoid. He’d gone and hurt her again. “I have an opportunity to leave town. Executive chef.”
Luke frowned. “What? Would you really go?”
“A week ago I would have said no.” Mark shrugged, but hearing the words from his cousin’s mouth sent a sharp pang through his chest. “Even yesterday I would have said no,” he said, recalling Anna’s reaction, the hurt in her eyes. No restaurant was worth that. He just hadn’t been able to prove that to her. She hadn’t given him the chance.
He scratched at the stubble on his chin, thinking of the way she’d recoiled last night, cringing at his touch, looking every bit as confused and betrayed as she had that day he’d broken up with her. “There doesn’t seem much reason to stay.”
“Maybe you haven’t given yourself one,” Luke said.
“Maybe I don’t know what I want anymore,” Mark said, but he knew that wasn’t true. He wanted picture frames and memories, and even floral throw pillows, damn it. He wanted a wreath on a door, welcoming him home every night. He wanted laughter and companionship. He wanted to be the father he never had.
He wanted a restaurant of his own. But more than anything, he wanted Anna. He wanted it all. And with nothing left to lose, it was time to go for it.
“Is your mom still playing matchmaker?” he asked, and Luke groaned.
“Yes. Why?” His eyes widened. “No, Mark. Don’t tell me you’re looking for her to set you up—”
“As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I’m hoping she’ll do.”
Luke’s expression turned wary. “All this bouncing from one casual date to the next. Is this really what you want?”
“No,” Mark said, standing. “It’s not.”
Before Luke could reply, he let himself into the house and quickly dialed his aunt’s number. She answered on the second ring, her tone uncertain. No doubt worried he’d mention those rose petals, Mark thought, grinning.
He leaned against the doorjamb. “Aunt Rosemary, do you have a minute?”
“For my favorite nephew?” she purred. “Of course.”
“I was wondering… Are you still matching Anna up on dates?”
Her heard the smile in her voice when she said, “I certainly am.”
His pulse skipped. “Good. Do you think you could arrange something for tomorrow night, say eight o’clock?”
A squeal pealed down the line. “My boy, I thought you’d never ask.”
When his aunt Rosemary set her mind to something, she found a way of making it happen. Mark sucked in a breath and pulled the handle of Piccolino’s, hoping this was a family trait, even if Rosemary wasn’t technically a blood relative.
He checked his watch; he’d purposefully arrived ten minutes late to make sure Anna was already seated. A quick scan of the dining room caused his heart to drum. She was in the corner, her chin cupped in her palm, her long blond hair falling around her shoulders.
He stepped out from behind the plant that blocked her view of the lobby and began walking toward her, his stride in beat with the pounding in his chest. Her eyes narrowed as they met his, and her pretty pink mouth fell open. Quickly, she reached for her menu, but it was too late.
“Hello,” he said lightly, stopping at her table.
She lowered the menu and lifted her chin. Without looking up, she reached for her water, lips pinched.
Mark inhaled sharply. This was going to be more difficult than he’d expected. He set a hand on the back of the chair opposite her, forcing her attention from the paper in her hands.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He gave a small shrug. “Joining you.”
A mirthless chuckle escaped from her lips, and her icy smile lingered. “I’m actually meeting someone, Mark. A date.”
“Ah, but you see,” he said, slipping into the chair. “I am your date.”
Her carefully arranged smile slipped. “Excuse me?”
“I’m your date for this evening,” he replied evenly. Ignoring her wide-eyed stare, he unfolded his napkin and set it in his lap.
“No,” Anna said, giving a low, nervous laugh. “I’m sorry, Mark, but you’re not. I’m waiting for someone, so please, just go.”
His chest tightened at the plea in her tone, at her insistence that he leave, that he was unwanted. Refusing to back down now, he took a sip from his water glass. Anna’s
face flared.
“I’m fully aware that you’re waiting for someone. Brown hair, six feet tall, loves fine dining?”
Now her face blanched. “I don’t understand.”
“I asked Aunt Rosemary to arrange this, Anna.” He held her gaze, watching as awareness took hold.
Her lips pinched on a huff. “You shouldn’t have bothered. I have nothing to say to you.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “But I have a lot to say to you.”
“Mark. Please. We’ve said everything that needs to be said.” She pressed her mouth tight and set her menu on the table. “Just… go.”
Go. It was what he did best. He could practically hear her thinking the sentiment. “Not until you’ve heard what I’ve come to say.”
Her lashes fluttered, but her gaze remained lowered. Mark clenched the napkin in his lap, hating the slight drop of her shoulders, the rise and fall of her breath. He’d done this to her—not once, but twice now—and he never wanted to see her like this again.
“I told you,” she said through gritted teeth. “There’s nothing left to say, Mark.”
Mark cast a fleeting look around the room, noticing the other diners, who laughed over the table, sipped wine, and chatted happily. He dragged his attention back to Anna, at the frown on her pretty face, and he suddenly felt like the biggest jerk on the planet. She fidgeted with an earring, blinking rapidly at the tablecloth, her cheekbones stained with pink dots.
She’d gotten dressed up in a simple black dress with thin straps—she’d put time into her evening, into the hope of moving on, putting distance between them.
He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought this would be the only way… that you’d be forced to hear me out.” He set the napkin on the table. “I’ll go if that’s what you really want. I won’t bother you again. But just so you know, I don’t regret the past few weeks. Even if you hate me, and even if you go back to ignoring me for the next six years, I’m glad we had a little more time together. I love you, Anna. I always did. Hell, maybe I always will. And if it will make it easier on you for me to walk away right now, that’s what I’ll do. I only want the best for you. That’s all I ever wanted.”