As the party reached fever pitch and Sydney had to lean into each person as they chatted with her, the front door opened once more, and an icy wind snaked through the bodies. From her spot near the door, she paused her conversation with someone who’d driven down from Potsdam to greet the new guest. Her gaze lifted, and her lips curved into a smile. And then her breath stopped in her throat. Connor.
“Hi, Syd.” Goose bumps rose on her skin, starting at her jaw and working their way down to her toes.
“Hi,” she whispered. He clutched a bottle of champagne in his gloved hands and moved slowly toward her, his green eyes bright and hopeful. As he entered her space, the scent of Molton Brown soap wafted over her. Her throat seized up in response. She didn’t know if it was nostalgia or longing or hatred, but it stirred her to the core.
“Man, it’s so good to see you,” he said as quietly as the roar of the room would allow. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Words escaped her. The last time she’d seen him he’d been wrapped up in sheets and another woman’s legs. But the anger and shame that had consumed her then was curiously absent now. Connor was everything Pine Ridge wasn’t. He was fitted wool coats and designer shampoo and gallery openings with expensive champagne. That world had been a part of her, as much as she’d tried to deny it, and now the physical incarnation of all that glitz and glamour stood in front of her, smiling.
“Did I surprise you?” he asked.
She released a long-held breath. Surprise? Understatement of the century. “Yes. What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see you.”
I needed. He’d never cared what she needed. Only what he needed her to be to him.
“I don’t want to do this right now,” she said. She caught her mother’s eyes from across the room. “This is a big night for me, for the store.”
“I know. I heard you on the radio.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You? You were listening to North Country radio?”
“Well,” he said. He dropped his chin, and a lock of dark blond hair fell over his eyes. He offered her a half smile. Those beautiful white teeth he’d paid a fortune for. “A colleague of mine has a house up here, and he said he heard you. I googled it and found out what was going on. That Instagram page has Sydney Walsh written all over it.”
“Well, then you know this is an important event for us.” She straightened her spine, determined to stay strong in front of him. He wasn’t allowed to bulldoze this night, to plant the seeds of doubt he was so good at sowing. “I have to get back to the party.”
“Sure,” he said. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay.”
She stared at him, lips parted. In all their time as a couple, he never wanted to do anything with her that wasn’t already in his best interest. If he wanted to stay at her little holiday party alongside the residents of North Country, he must’ve been making one hell of an effort.
“Do whatever you want.” She turned on her heel and dove back into the sea of bodies. Her head spun, and the collar of her shirt tightened like a noose. She made her way to the office and closed the door, bracing herself against the wall with one trembling arm.
Connor was here. Connor, who had cheated on her, deceived her, pulled a rug out from under her that she didn’t even know she’d been standing on. She’d carefully guarded her heart against someone who’d managed to sneak in anyway. And now he was here. Asking for forgiveness. Or at least she figured that was coming next.
A knock on the office door shook her out of her haze, and she opened it just a crack.
“Y’all right?” Jorie asked. “I’m assuming the smoking-hot blond guy with the Veuve Clicquot is Connor?”
Sydney swallowed down the bile in her throat. “That’s him.”
“Wow,” Jorie said. Her jaw tightened. “He’s got some balls coming up here tonight.”
Sydney gnawed at the inside of her lip. She should agree with Jorie, plot how they were going to get rid of him, and then laugh about it later over a bottle of wine. But the part of her that might someday be strong enough for that was still in training.
“Yeah, I . . . I don’t really know what to do.”
“You want him out of here? Matt and Greg would be more than happy to toss his ass.”
“No,” Sydney said. “I mean, just don’t do anything. Let him hang out. I don’t care.”
Jorie’s eyes narrowed. “Okay.”
“I’ll be out in a second.” She pushed the door closed again and squeezed her eyes shut, begging the sickening pull of anxiety to subside. Where is Sam? Her mind returned to Sam again and again. He brought her strength and peace even if he didn’t know it. No one would bolster her resolve in this moment like Sam.
She took one last deep breath and rejoined the party. A few people had formed a makeshift dance floor near the cash register and twirled each other around to the sounds of Bing Crosby. It should’ve been the happiest scene. Sydney’s insides were torn to shreds.
“You should make a toast!” Yuri said, appearing at her side with a full glass of wine. He handed it to her and motioned to a step stool nearby. The last thing she wanted was every pair of eyes in the place on her. But when Karen also noticed the step stool, she shouted out, “Speech!”
Sydney cleared her throat and grabbed the glass of wine, taking one long, grateful drink. She stepped up onto the stool and looked out over the room. Someone turned down the music, and the crowd fell silent.
She spotted Connor in a small group of burly men, looking like an out-of-place history professor in his slim-cut navy sweater and tailored jeans. His beautiful mouth turned up at the corners, and he winked at her. Her legs turned to jelly.
“I’ll make this quick,” she said, forcing a smile. “I just want to thank you all so much for coming. I want to thank my mom, Karen Walsh, for begrudgingly agreeing to let me give her shop a face-lift, to Yuri of Yuri’s Liquor for the booze.” A cheer rose up, and several people patted Yuri on the back.
“I want to thank Jorie and Mrs. McDonagh of McDonagh’s Bakery for the incredible treats,” she continued. Her eyes scanned the rapt crowd and then she saw it. Outside, stalled at the curb. A pickup truck. With a flash of brake lights, it pulled away. Sam had shown up after all. And left just as quick.
Unreal.
“And, um,” she said, suddenly remembering all the eyes on her. She’d deal with her simmering anger later. “Thanks to the town of Pine Ridge. The community here is second to none. I hope that all of you who love romance come back December fifteenth for the first meeting of our book club, and if you can’t make it then, I hope you’ll continue to stop by any time you’re in the area. Thanks again.”
Everyone cheered and raised their glasses, and Connor shouted, “To Sydney!” She tucked her lip between her teeth and stepped down off the stool, afraid if she didn’t do it quickly, she’d tumble right off. Her head swam.
Most of the out-of-towners departed a little after eight, and as the crowd dwindled, Karen gleefully began checking receipts.
“We made more in one night than we did in all of October!” she said. “And, Suds, look at your book-club sign-up sheet. You’ve got thirty names! Maybe we’ll get this sorry little shop out of debt after all.”
The joy Sydney should’ve felt flitted around her, just out of reach, as a physical reminder of her painful past lingered near the door. By nine o’clock, it became impossible for Sydney to avoid Connor any longer. Yuri locked the front door, and Mrs. McDonagh, Jorie, and Karen started cleaning up discarded plates, cups, and spent liquor bottles. Connor hovered near the door, running a nervous hand through his meticulously coiffed hair.
“Sweets, why don’t you go take care of this?” Karen said. She nodded toward Connor.
“I don’t know how,” Sydney said, hiding her face. She refused to cry over him anymore.
“It’ll come to y
ou,” Karen said. “You’re a strong girl. Much stronger than when you got here, that’s for sure. Just listen to your heart, and it’ll tell you what to do. And give him hell.”
The warmth from her mother’s face filled her up, and she carried that strength with her to the front of the shop. Connor stood a little taller as she approached.
“Do you have to stay and clean up?” he asked. “I was hoping we could go somewhere and talk.”
She nodded. “Let’s talk.”
They grabbed their coats and headed outside, neither of them saying a word as they made their way through downtown. She wanted to stand up to him and let him know how much he’d hurt her. She also didn’t want him to see her weakness. Let him think I don’t care one way or the other who he’s with or what he’s done to me.
She led them to the Butler House, a bar located in an old hotel on the edge of downtown that played no music whatsoever and featured an ancient list of wines that appealed to the over-eighty crowd. They wouldn’t run into anyone she knew here.
They settled into a table in the far corner of the spacious, musty bar, and Sydney immediately busied herself with the menu. More than the alcohol, she needed a glass to occupy her trembling hands.
“We’re closing up soon,” the waitress said. Her jowls hung low, her posture stooped, and she looked to be as old as the faded carpet under her orthopedic shoes.
“The sign says open until eleven,” Connor said. He had so much to learn about this place.
“The sign should say open until whenever I feel like it. And I feel like nine thirty. Satisfied?”
“I’m leaving you a terrible Yelp review,” he said, furrowing his brow.
“Would you shut up?” Sydney said. She looked back at the waitress. “Can we just have two glasses of red? Pinot noir or whatever you have back there that’s already open? We won’t be long. And I’ve got cash.”
The waitress turned with a grunt and left them alone.
“Jesus,” Connor said, his upper lip curled in a sneer. “You come here a lot?”
“Why do you always have to be such a jerk to waiters?”
Dining out with Connor was always a tense experience. He expected the best, and when he didn’t get it, God help the person on the other end of his wrath.
“I’m not.” He spoke slowly through gritted teeth. “It’s a customer-based business. If the customer is unhappy, why shouldn’t the establishment go a little bit further to fix it?”
She shook her head and stared down at the weathered, dark wooden table. Someone had carved their initials into it: GHN. She didn’t miss his condescension. Left to his own devices, Connor wouldn’t give a second look to a place like this, let alone step inside and order a drink.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. She looked up as the tightened edges of his face softened.
“I came to see you.” His voice was laced with sweetness, and he reached across the table to take her hands in his. Like slipping her hands into old gloves. “I miss you, Sydney. And I’m so, so sorry for what I did. It’s inexcusable.”
What I did. Would he say the words? Would he admit it? Or would he cop only to what she’d seen and try to explain it away? “Why don’t you try?”
He blinked at her as if caught off guard. “What?”
“Try an excuse. Any excuse. Beyond the bullshit one you gave me when I caught you.”
“I’m an asshole?”
“Yes, Connor. This we know.”
His grip on her hands tightened. “Honestly, Syd, I don’t have an excuse. I was bored, I was horny, she threw herself at me, and I let myself go ahead with it. It was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”
She. Just the mention of the blonde woman with the perfect ass forced the acid up into Sydney’s throat. Her well-meant red blouse and makeup felt suddenly foolish and gaudy. She could play the part of wealthy finance wife, but the tag of her off-brand backpack would always be visible. “You were bored with me?”
“No,” he said, leaning in toward her. The waitress appeared and set down their wine, along with a check.
“No hurry,” she said, the sarcasm dripping from her words.
Connor glared at her. The second she was gone, he turned back to Sydney.
“I wasn’t bored with you,” he said. “I don’t know. I don’t know what else to tell you. It was lust, pure and simple.”
If he’d been satisfied with her, he’d never have strayed. But what was the problem? Was it her hair? Her weight? Her topics of conversation? She combed her memory for instances when he’d seemed tired of her. She came up empty.
“But,” she said, her voice tiny and meek, “you said things between us were shit. That I’d changed.”
He pressed his lips together before pulling his hands back and crossing them over his chest. “Do you deny those things are true?”
There it was. The shame. It poured over her like hot syrup, coating her skin and dragging her down. Sure, she’d changed. Didn’t people change? She’d worked most of her adult life at being a lawyer and then found out she couldn’t take the pressure and needed to find a career she could handle and enjoy. But feeling adrift didn’t change her heart, her core, or her values. It had simply muted them for a while.
Or had she let herself be muted by him?
“I thought it was a phase,” she said. “My career trajectory had completely changed. I’d gone to law school, worked endless hours at the firm, and lost tons of friends for nothing. Everything I’d done to achieve that goal was for naught. It was a huge thing to go through. If I wasn’t myself, that was why.”
He shrugged. “I don’t want to rehash old issues. I wanted to come here and apologize and see if maybe we can move forward. I couldn’t live with myself, thinking you’d disappeared to this shithole because of me.”
The faces of all the Pine Ridge residents who had welcomed her and taken care of her, prioritized her needs before their own, surfaced in her mind. How dare he insult these kind people and their town?
Before she could rattle off stories of Edith O’Hare and Hank and Mrs. McDonagh, the front door to the bar opened and Sam walked in. She blinked. She barely believed the figure before her until he sat down on a barstool, leaned over the counter, and grinned at the waitress as she cooed, “Sammy!”
“Oh sure, she’s nice to the locals,” Connor said.
“Cindy, my love,” Sam said. “You about closing up?”
Cindy placed a cold, uncapped beer in front of Sam and shook her head. “I would be if it wasn’t for these hoity-toity out-of-towners.”
Sam followed Cindy’s thumb until his eyes landed on Sydney and Connor. The cheerful grin melted away, and his face went slack.
Sydney raised a single hand to wave at him, not sure how else to react. He was impossibly handsome. His hair was combed to the side, and his red plaid shirt was unbuttoned just enough that she caught the edge of another tattoo on his chest. Nothing else in the room mattered but him.
He ran a hand over his face and dropped his gaze to the bar top, avoiding her stare altogether. The sadness creeped over her, weighing down every limb.
“Hello?” Connor said, interrupting her thoughts. “Syd?”
“I want to go home,” she said on a whisper. She feared if she tried to speak any louder her voice would break and the tears would fall.
“All right,” he said. He swallowed the glass of wine in two huge gulps and grimaced. “Wow, that’s bad.”
She stood up from the table, grabbed her coat, and threw what cash she had down onto the scratched wooden surface. She wanted to run. The twinge in her calves and thighs urged her to take off and never look back. She pushed past Connor, past Sam at the bar, and out into the freezing cold night.
She made it as far as the Loving Page before Connor caught up with her. He grabbed her arm, forcing her to spin around and face him. T
he tears streamed down her cheeks.
“I’m done fucking around,” he said, his breath coming in rapid-fire clouds. “All I want is you, babe. You’re the one I’ve always wanted, and I don’t want to lose you again. You can do whatever you want: work at a bookstore, go back to law, or don’t work at all. I don’t care. I just want you. I think we should get married.”
“What?” The laughter caught her by surprise. It flowed out of her in waves, and after a minute she folded over, clutching her stomach as it threatened to choke her. Married. Even the word sounded hilarious to her now.
“Babe, I know it’s crazy,” he said. “But I want this. I want you.”
Finally, she stood upright, wiping at the tears with the back of her hand. She could see it all so clearly now. Her mother was right. She had finally listened to her heart, and it rejected Connor like a virus.
“No,” she said. “Hell no. Marry you? Are you insane?”
His face turned dark as he stepped away and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Insane is living in this town trying to scrape together enough money to make a fucking bookstore survive.”
She’d been here too many times to react. A reaction was what he craved.
“Insane is marrying someone you don’t trust,” she said. “And I don’t trust you. I don’t trust you not to cheat on me, and I don’t trust that you believe in me, either. You never have.”
“I paid for your entire lifestyle,” he snapped, pointing at his own chest with fervor. “I shelled out for any stupid activity you wanted to do. Your hair, your nails, your clothes, your coffee, your lunch dates. All of it. On my dime.”
“Yeah, to push me into being the woman you thought you should have on your arm. Not to make me happy.”
“Fuck this,” he said. “I come all the way here to Shitsville to give you the opportunity to come home, and you spit in my face.”
“Oh, was this for me? Showing up on a night that was super important to me and disrupting everything and shaking my confidence? This apology tour was never about me, Connor. Everything has always been about you. Even when it masquerades as generosity, everything you do is selfish.”
Wild Love Page 16