by Olivia Miles
Grace followed his gaze and then turned to him, frowning. “As long as you want me to be.”
Luke hesitated. No, she wasn’t going to put this on him. She had come here to set him up—to make him take the fall. She’d regret her decision in time, come to resent him. She’d leave him sooner or later; if not now, then someday. They didn’t want the same things anymore. Maybe once they had, but they were young then—children! Ten years was a long time to know someone, and he knew Grace. He knew what she was capable of, and he knew what she wanted. If she wasn’t true to herself, she would never be happy living here in Briar Creek. And he wasn’t going to be the one to drag her down or hold her back.
“You should go, Grace,” he said. “I’ve moved on,” he forced himself to add.
She took a step closer, never breaking his stare as she closed the distance between their bodies. He gripped the keys harder, feeling them embed in his palm. He’d forgotten how beautiful she was, how perfect she was to him. All these months away from her, he’d pushed her from his mind, eventually replacing the image with Helen’s. Sweet, loving Helen.
“Do you expect me to believe that what you have with her is the same as what we have?” Grace said. She was standing so close he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes, the indentation on the bottom lip.
“Of course it’s not the same.”
Her lips curved in satisfaction and she leaned forward. “I didn’t think so,” she murmured as she slid her arm up his shoulder, pulling him close as her lips grazed his.
He groaned into her mouth—a silent plea to stop—but soon he was kissing her, forcefully, angrily even, pressing her body close against his chest, feeling the contours of her breasts against his racing heart. She smelled like coconut, like that favorite shampoo of hers, and he drank in her scent, his tongue parting her lips, exploring her mouth, tasting her warmth.
She felt so good, so right, and that was the problem. There was nothing like kissing Grace. They just fell into place; they knew every step of the dance, every way to satisfy the other’s needs. So he stood there, in the middle of the afternoon, in broad daylight, in front of the house he had expected to be their home, and he kissed her for the last time, savoring every last sweet touch, until he finally tore his lips from hers.
His eyes flashed on hers. His pulse was thundering. He swallowed hard, wondering if he had it in him. “I’m engaged, Grace.”
She was close enough for him to feel her stiffen. “Do you love her?” she whispered.
He sucked in a breath. What did it matter? What mattered was that he and Grace were over. Through. Helen could give him things that Grace never could. And Grace… “I can’t give you the life you want, Grace.”
Her mouth spread into a grim line. “That’s not what I asked.” She glared at him, and he swore to himself in that moment that he couldn’t go through with it. Her lips turned downward, her voice softer, pleading almost. “Do you love her?”
She stood, waiting, her eyes filling with tears, her lower lip quivering. He looked to his left. In the distance he could see Helen’s car approaching.
Shifting his gaze back to Grace, he stared deep into her eyes, committing them to memory, knowing it would be the last time he saw her this close.
“It’s too late,” he said firmly.
He expected her to sob, to protest, to fight. She didn’t. She only nodded her head sadly, gave him one last long look, and walked away.
Grace always fought for what she wanted, he told himself. She didn’t give up, didn’t back down. That was what he needed to believe to be sure he had made the right choice.
But he hadn’t taken one thing into account—she only gave up when the fight was over. When hope was truly lost. And maybe, just maybe, on that warm spring day, when she’d come back, looking for a second chance, he’d taken that hope from her. He imagined she was happy with the outcome, that her life had become everything she had intended, and that she never could have been satisfied with the life he could have given her.
Yet now, standing here in the cafeteria of the school they had both attended as children, so close to him that he could smell that coconut shampoo, she was telling him that life hadn’t turned out the way she hoped it would.
I guess that makes two of us, he thought.
CHAPTER
15
Grace watched in frustration as the alarm clock on her nightstand hit midnight, and sighed in defeat. No matter how much she wanted to escape into the blissful unconsciousness of sleep, her mind was too busy replaying conversations with Luke to relax into slumber. Like it or not, she was awake, and if she had to be, it was probably better to start distracting herself from thoughts that only brought her confusion and sadness.
Tossing the frilly pink comforter off her warm and toasty body, she slipped her toes out from under the thick blankets and tucked them into the slippers at the side of her bed. She’d learned at a young age that socks and slippers were needed in this big, drafty house—the hardwood floors could be particularly cold at this hour. Shrugging a wool cardigan over her flannel pajama top, Grace walked quietly to the door, turning the handle ever so slowly, and then peered out into the hall.
Her mother’s door at the far end was closed, and the house was dark. The light of a full moon guided her path as she crept down the stairs, careful to avoid the steps that were especially creaky—it was a trick she and Anna had mastered as teenagers, when they would sneak downstairs for a late night movie. Or worse.
She grinned to herself, thinking back on the few times she had snuck out to meet Luke, recalling the thrill of rebellion rushing the blood through her veins as she ran through the dark street to his car, waiting at the top of the bend. The feel of his warm lips on hers as he pulled her near, closing the distance between their bodies eagerly.
She paused at the landing, thinking she had heard something, craning her ear. It was only the wind rustling through the branches—the birch trees had been known to snap when the storms got the best of them. She’d check in the morning, see what she could collect for kindling.
Rounding the corner to the kitchen, she flicked on the light and screamed in alarm. Kathleen sat immobile, completely unaffected by her daughter’s reaction.
“You scared me!” Grace shouted at her mother, who was sitting at the kitchen table, her expression blank. Grace put a hand to heart, feeling it race against her palm. “What the heck are you doing down here?” she exclaimed, trying to steady her breath.
“Same thing as you, I suppose,” Kathleen said. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“So you were sitting here in the dark? How about turning on a light?” Grace frowned, not enjoying her fright at all, and crossed to the stove. She lifted the warm kettle, gauging the remaining water by the weight, and then turned on the gas.
“I like sitting in the dark,” Kathleen said. “It’s peaceful.”
Grace placed a hand on the counter and stared at her mother, feeling unsettled. She didn’t like the idea of her mother sitting at the kitchen table, late at night, without bothering to turn a light on. Was it a regular thing, a habit?
“I’m worried about you, Mom.”
There. She had said it.
Kathleen heaved a weary breath. “There’s always something to worry about, Grace. I could even say that I’m worried about you.”
Grace folded her arms and leaned back against the kitchen island. “Me? Why?”
Kathleen tipped her head, holding her gaze, and Grace felt caught. She suddenly wished she had never come downstairs at all. She wasn’t up for an honest conversation. She preferred to think about something other than her messy life for a little while. She was here to help her mother, to support her—not the other way around.
“You didn’t tell me that you had called off your engagement,” her mother began.
Grace drew a breath. “It’s fine, Mom,” she said, holding up a hand. “Really. It’s… fine.” And it was. The sad thing was that it really was fine. Disappointing, yes, but
not because she had lost Derek. More because she was back to square one. Starting over. Twenty-nine and alone. She had finally figured out what she wanted out of her life, only when it might be too late.
“I saw you talking with Luke Hastings tonight,” Kathleen said quietly. “How did that go?”
The teakettle began to whistle, and Grace turned her back to her mother, grateful for the opportunity to hide her face. Her mother had always said Grace’s expressions spoke a thousand words, and she didn’t feel like giving any insight into her emotions right now, especially when she didn’t even understand them herself.
“It was fine,” she said as she poured the boiling water into her favorite mug with the chipped handle. She dipped a teabag into the steaming liquid and cupped the mug with both hands, pivoting to face her mother, hoping that she could maintain a cool, unfazed façade. “I saw him yesterday, too. He was at Mark’s party, and earlier he came into the shop.”
Her mother’s eyes darkened as Grace pulled out a chair and joined her at the table. “You went into the bookstore?”
Grace nodded. “Jane had a key.” She paused to take a tentative sip of her tea. Still too hot to drink, she swirled the teabag around in the water with a spoon, wondering how to broach the subject without being completely insensitive. “I have to admit that I was a little… surprised to find it closed.”
She stole a glance across the table, noting the dismay in her mother’s drooping lips. “There wasn’t any other choice, honey. It wasn’t an easy decision for any of us, but what else were we supposed to do?”
“I’m not blaming anyone,” Grace said. At least, she wasn’t anymore. “I just wish something could be done to save it.”
“You and me both, but unless you have a brilliant idea, I’m at a loss. Your sisters and I have talked about this at length. We don’t see another option.”
Grace felt her temper stir. “Why didn’t any of you tell me about this? I’m part of this family, too. And you know how much that store means to me. Way more than it ever meant to Anna or Jane.”
Kathleen sunk her head into her hands and rubbed her face. When she pulled her fingers from her eyes, Grace was discomfited by how old she looked, how worn out. This hadn’t been easy for her; she would be wise to remember that, to have patience.
“Perhaps we should have told you,” she admitted. “Maybe it wasn’t right, but we’ve gotten used to making decisions without you, Grace. You haven’t been home since…” She trailed off and looked into the distance for a long moment, then turned her attention back to Grace. “What would you have done if we had told you?”
Grace didn’t appreciate the insinuation, but she decided to let it go. To defend herself would be exhausting for everyone, only serving to make her feel more guilty, to make them relive old wounds. She hadn’t come back to town in years, and when she finally did, her father was gone. She knew it. They knew it. They were all thinking it, but none of them were saying it. Part of her wished they would; it might lance the pain that had haunted her for months.
She took a long drink of her tea and lifted her palms in defeat. “I wish there was something I could have done.”
“We all feel that way. But now it’s time to move on, accept it for what it is.”
Grace nodded, suddenly feeling tired enough to collapse into bed, her earlier restless energy replaced with the depressing weight of hopelessness. She finished what was left of her tea in silence, her heart feeling heavier with each sip.
“Guess I’m tired after all,” she admitted. “You coming up?”
“I think I’ll stay down here a little longer,” Kathleen said.
Grace hesitated. “I could keep you company if you’d like,” she said, but Kathleen shook her head, shooing her off with a flutter of the wrist.
“I’m fine, honey. You go to bed, get your rest.”
It didn’t sit well, leaving her mother in the kitchen, alone. The image of her sitting here in the dark all that time bothered Grace. How long had she been down here? How long would it have continued had she not found her? Grace set her empty mug on the top rack of the dishwasher.
“Feel like going into town tomorrow?” she hedged, forcing a smile. “It might be fun,” she lied. “We could do a little Christmas shopping, maybe grab lunch at the café?”
Kathleen made a little face and shook her head. “Another time, Grace,” she said, and the relief that Grace had expected to feel was replaced with a tightening of her heart. The last thing she wanted to do was celebrate the holiday season, but somehow seeing her mother follow suit felt wrong, and sad.
“Come on, Mom,” she sparred. “You love Christmas! We could get a peppermint hot chocolate, maybe come back and watch one of those made for TV movies—”
“Grace.” Her mother’s voice was firmer this time, insistent. “Not this year.”
Grace decided to let it drop. “Good night, then, Mom.”
Grace shuffled back up the stairs to her room. She toed off her slippers and clambered into bed, not bothering to remove her sweater. With the covers pulled up to her chin, she curled onto her side and stared out the window onto the snow-covered stretch of forest behind the house, which looked silver in the moonlight.
Hot tears pooled in her eyes and then laced their way down her nose, where they made their escape, soaking her pillowcase. She sniffed hard and wiped a few away, but they only reappeared, and she finally gave up.
She hadn’t been this miserable since she’d first gone to New York. She’d expected glamour and excitement but that had soon worn off, and instead she was working as a receptionist at a newspaper instead of as something more interesting, living in a studio apartment that was so small she could touch the front door with her outstretched leg while she lay on the twin mattress that served as both a bed and couch.
Loneliness was nothing new to her—but at least she usually had her other true love, her life’s passion to fall back on, to keep her company. And it had eventually made at least several parts of her life a little easier.
Now even her writing had failed her—she couldn’t remember the last time she had turned on her laptop. It sat on the bottom of one of her bags, patient and waiting, but she knew it wouldn’t be put to use on this trip. The only thing it was useful for these days was email, and even then it only served to deliver more bad news. Bad reviews. Disappointed correspondence from her editor. Even her agent wasn’t returning her calls these days! They’d all encouraged her to take some time away, collect her thoughts. Well, then what?
She was childless. Unmarried. Alone. And broke. Oh… and homeless. Yes, there was that problem to figure out, too.
She couldn’t depend on royalties from her first two books forever. Sure, she was getting by. She wasn’t going to starve—yet. Still, she needed something more. A purpose. Something to make her feel whole again. Something to make her happy.
Main Street Books.
Her breath hitched mid-sob and her chest began to thump with excitement. She could do it, couldn’t she? Yes… maybe she could!
She quickly brushed the remaining tears from her face and sniffed loudly, her mind reeling with possibilities, her fingers itching to scurry from this bed and get busy. Oh, if only daylight would come sooner!
She might have ruined all her other opportunities for happiness, but there was still one thing she could save. Main Street Books had two weeks left on the lease. And one thing was for certain: she never walked away from anything—or anyone—without a fight.
CHAPTER
16
From his familiar perch at Hastings, Luke stared at his menu, his mind on anything but the words.
“In all these years, I have never seen you so indecisive,” Mark commented.
“Nothing seems to suit me this morning.”
“You could always try the Fireside Café,” Mark bantered, knowing full well that Luke wouldn’t step foot in that establishment any more than he would. Mark and Anna had a restless dynamic, but Anna unnerved Luke with her co
ol gaze and no-nonsense attitude, and she stirred up way too many memories of Grace.
“Yeah, right.” Luke took a swig of his coffee and glanced at the blackboard, perusing the Saturday specials. “I’ll have the gingerbread pancakes today.”
“Side of bacon?”
“Why not?” He hunched over the counter and stared into his coffee. He was exhausted, having slept for barely more than an hour the night before and about the same the previous two nights, and his right eye was starting to twitch. It had been doing that a lot lately, and he had given up any hope of it going away soon, or at least not until the New Year, when everything finally settled down.
Yeah, he’d feel a lot better come January, when he was back at work, Grace was gone, and life would return to normal.
He rubbed a hand over his face. If only he didn’t have to decide on that lease before then.
“Seen any more of Grace?” Mark asked. He leaned back against the counter and tossed a dishcloth over his shoulder.
“Why are you asking me this?” Luke took another sip of his coffee. “You know I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Ah, but see, I think you do,” Mark said. “I think you haven’t stopped thinking about her since she came back to town. And I think you’ve thought about her a long time before that, too.” He paused. “Besides, you two looked pretty cozy at the party Thursday night.”
Luke narrowed his gaze. “Why don’t you focus on your own love life instead of mine?”
“My own love life?” Mark scoffed. “You know I don’t believe in that nonsense.”
Luke shook his head, turning to look around the room. If only he could be more like Mark. The guy had never committed to any woman, never given his heart away. He was happy as a clam, running this dive, doing what he wanted to do, not busy thinking about things that weighed you down. He was free of all the heartaches, all the ups and downs.