Seaside Embrace (Love in Bloom

by Melissa Foster

  “Fine, just skip to the last message from her and read that.” She waited, hoping Hunter had won the competition.

  “‘They’re not doing the final judging until later. Maybe you can still make it.’”

  “Good,” Jana said. “Everyone’s late today. Maybe I can make it.”

  The announcer called for Jana and her competitor.

  “You’re up, sis.” Brock set her phone in her bag and took her by the shoulders. “I want you to use that feel-good energy to win this fight, you got it?”

  Jana nodded. “Just tell me what Hunter’s text says.”

  “Damn it, Jana. That’s not focusing.” He grabbed the phone with a huff, swiped the screen, and read, “‘We need to talk.’”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  THE CROWD CHEERED as the winner pranced around the ring with her hands in the air. Jana took her wounded ego and battered body back to the locker room, shrugging off Brock’s consoling words and trying to ignore the blood dripping down her cheek. She’d been so sidetracked about Hunter’s cursory text, and the guilt of missing his competition, that she’d completely lost focus.

  She reached into her purse for her phone, and the key Hunter had made fell to the floor, landing with a hollow ping. She swiped at the sweat dripping from her brow, then scrubbed her hand over her face, wincing as her hand touched the welt below her right eye where she’d taken a nasty blow.

  Wiping the blood from her hand on her shorts, she leaned down and picked up the simple reminder of their argument. Staring at it lying in her palm, she lowered herself to the bench. Hunter had taken the effort to make the key, when she’d been too busy to even notice that they were living together. His clothes were in her dresser, in her closet. He was there nearly every night. It wasn’t a matter of if she was ready for the opening act. They were the opening act, and had been for quite some time. They were the best opening act! She’d made such a big deal out of the key, and he hadn’t thrown it in her face, or given her an ultimatum. He’d wrapped it gently in her hand and kissed her knuckles.

  He loved her. It was evident in everything he did, everything he said—and everything he didn’t say.

  And I missed the first part of his competition for a stupid fight and dirty danced like he didn’t matter. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  She rose to her feet and stuffed her gear into her bag, gathered her purse in her arms, and breathing so hard she felt on the brink of tears, she burst through the locker room doors.

  How could she have been so stupid?

  “Jana!” Brock caught up to her. “Let me clean up your cut.”

  “Can’t. I gotta go.” How could she have said those things to him? We’re not living together. Of course they were. Jesus, he must think she was crazy.

  “But we’re having a—”

  Jana spun around and pressed one hand to her brother’s chest. “I hate to let you down, Brock, but I have a key to deliver.”

  His confused gaze made her laugh. She kissed his cheek and ran out the front door.

  Her phone vibrated as she tossed her things in the backseat.

  She started the car, feeling like she’d won something much bigger than a stupid boxing match. Hunter was right. Everything she wanted was right there in front of her, and she was done being too stubborn to see it.

  She drove too fast, making the long drive in record time.

  Jana drove down to Wellfleet Harbor, searching for a parking place. Crowds of people spilled from the grass, where the competition was being held, into the street. There were lights shining on a makeshift stage, and after driving up to the parking lot at the pier and finding that lot full, too, she gave up and double-parked.

  With Hunter’s key in her hand, she ran down the road, past the Pearl Restaurant, past the gallery and the Bookstore Restaurant, where she was swallowed into the crowd. Her heart was beating so hard, and people were looking at her funny, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was seeing Hunter. She hadn’t even seen his sculpture. God, she really did suck, but she was done being sucky. She was there, with the key to her house, and she was ready to give him everything he wanted. Everything she wanted.

  She pushed through the crowd, going up on her toes to look over people’s shoulders and squeezing between couples and children. Until finally. Finally. She could see the stage.

  Hunter looked so handsome, in his dark slacks and white shirt, standing beside Grayson. There were six other men and women standing with them. Parker Collins looked as gorgeous as she did on the big screen, and for a millisecond, jealousy clawed at Jana. She shook it off, too focused on why she was there to let anything else rattle her. Parker stood with a man Jana didn’t recognize at the center of the stage, holding microphones.

  Please let him win. Please let him win.

  Her hands were shaking, and her heart was so full of hope. He’d given her everything. He deserved this more than any other person on earth.

  Parker stepped forward and spoke into the microphone. “Thank you all for bearing with us while we took the extra time this afternoon to make our final decisions. Let’s give a hand to each of our talented participants.”

  The crowd clapped, and Jana’s stomach sank. Had she missed the award?

  When the crowd quieted, Parker turned to face Hunter and the others.

  “The reason we took a little longer to make our decision was that we were not only blown away by each of the artists, but we’ve also decided to extend a bigger prize to the winner.”

  Please, please say Hunter Lacroux.

  “We have two winners of the competition, two very talented brothers, who have lived on the Cape their whole lives. Please give a hand to Hunter and Grayson Lacroux, of Grunter’s Ironworks.”

  Tears sprang from Jana’s eyes as she applauded. You won. Thank you, God. Thank you so much.

  Parker shook Hunter’s and Grayson’s hands. “Your work is incredible, and we’re proud to offer you not only the two-year contract to work with the Collins Children’s Foundation, but we’d like to have you work on-site.”

  Hunter and Grayson exchanged a glance, and Jana listened intently.

  “You’ll be joining our team of artists not only to work in the LA office,” Parker said excitedly, “but traveling around the country for the next two years, working at our satellite offices, all expenses paid.”

  The pit of Jana’s stomach knotted. She stumbled backward, tripping over a woman’s leg.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled as she pushed her way back through the crowd toward her car. She felt her heart breaking with every unsteady step. LA. Two years of all-expenses-paid traveling. She couldn’t give Hunter the key now. Not when he had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity in the palm of his hands.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  JANA DROVE AROUND town in a blur of tears and heartache, topped with a hefty helping of self-loathing. Half an hour after she’d left the competition she’d gotten another cursory text from Hunter. We need to talk. She’d sobbed so hard her chest ached. She’d driven to the beach where they’d watched the sunrise. How could she have been so blind to what was right in front of her? To the love that was growing inside her heart from the very moment she and Hunter had reconnected months ago, when she’d stopped even flirting with other guys? None of that mattered anymore, because she’d already been too selfish.

  She drove up to Provincetown just to see the Governor Bradford, the bar where she and Hunter had hooked up a few times. But seeing it only stabbed the knife deeper into her chest. She got on the highway and drove all the way down to Yarmouth, where she pulled into an empty parking lot and sobbed some more. There was no way she was going to tell Hunter how she felt now and make him choose between her and his career. He deserved everything good that came to him.

  He deserved a woman who didn’t panic at the thought of a key.

  He deserved a woman who didn’t miss the first half of his competition.

  Why did those thoughts hurt so much? She wanted to be that woman so
badly she could taste it. She wanted to kick her insecurities in their wretched little asses. She wanted a do-over.

  When she felt depleted of every ounce of energy, she finally gave up and drove toward home. She couldn’t escape her devastation. There was no escaping a broken heart. She’d been avoiding going home, because one night at home without Hunter had been enough to make her hate her sweet cottage just a little, and the thought of another night without him—forever without him—was too much to bear.

  Hunter’s truck came into focus as she drove down her street, and the lump in her throat expanded. She wasn’t ready for the conversation that would end their relationship. Wasn’t losing her fight enough of a beating for one day? Couldn’t she pretend for one more day that he hadn’t won something amazing and that she and Hunter had a chance at making things right? That he’d accept her apology, and the key, and they could go back to the incredible, loving path they’d been on? She’d liked that path. A lot.

  She pulled up beside his empty truck. Her house was pitch-dark, and there was no sign of Hunter anywhere. Her phone vibrated on the passenger seat. Hunter’s name appeared above his number, bringing fresh tears with it. She’d finally changed his contact information. How could such a small, silly thing like seeing Hunter’s name on her phone hurt so badly?

  She swiped the screen and read the text. Can we talk?

  Her pulse quickened as she looked up, scanning her yard. A figure of a man standing in her side yard came into focus. She would know him anywhere. The confident stance, his broad, powerful shoulders, and she was sure if she could see his face, the muscles in his jaw would be jumping with tension. She dried her eyes, pulled her shoulders back, and stepped out of the car. She refused to fall apart in front of him. She didn’t want him to feel guilty for taking the incredible opportunity he’d been given. She wasn’t going to be the woman who stood in his way.

  The twenty feet between them seemed to pass in slow motion. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that he was wearing a suit and tie. Her heart skipped a beat. She’d never seen him dressed up like this. A piercing pain shot through her stomach with the realization that he wasn’t wearing the suit for her, but for the competition. He must have left the tie and coat in the car or something.

  She couldn’t help but notice that he was clean-shaven and he smelled like cologne. Jealousy prickled her limbs, knowing that that wasn’t meant for her, either.

  “Hi.” Her voice sounded as frayed as she felt.

  He took a step closer, his eyes raking over her face, then lower, taking all of her in more quickly than usual. Just another reminder of the distance between them. He curled a finger under her chin and studied her face.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  She swallowed hard. Could he see the blood draining from her heart, too? She lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I lost.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to cheer you on.” His tone was serious, and another half shrug made his jaw do that jumping thing she worried about.

  “Can we talk?” he asked.

  She nodded, and when he waved a hand toward the backyard, she realized that he didn’t even want to step into her house. That twisted the stake that was shattering her heart.

  The backyard was dark, and she stumbled over something on the grass.

  “What…?”

  “Stay here. Let me get the lights.” He walked to the back porch and plugged something into the outlet, illuminating the entire yard with tiny white lights strewn through the trees, over the bushes, and around the patio door, transforming her backyard into a magical wonderland.

  “What…?” She couldn’t process what she was seeing. Bouquets of roses formed a heart in the grass, and she was standing in the center of it. A sculpture came into full view at the point where the two sides of the heart connected.

  Hunter followed her gaze. “You haven’t seen that yet, have you?”

  She shook her head. He hadn’t told her what he was making for the competition, but she’d never in her wildest dreams thought he’d sculpt a dancer. Mesmerized by the elegant piece of art, she finally found her voice.

  “This is what you made for the competition? May I touch it?”

  “Of course.” He placed his hand on her lower back, urging her closer, but she didn’t want to move away from him. She stayed where she was, lost in his touch, lost in the beauty before her, lost in confusion.

  “It’s so graceful. The arch of her neck, the movement of her legs and shoulders.” She absently reached up and touched her neck. “It’s powerful, and beautiful, and looks like she’s actually in motion, the way the skirt appears to be moving. I’ve never seen anything so…so…feminine and natural.”

  “You were the perfect muse.”

  She glanced up at Hunter, tears filling her eyes again, and mouthed, Me?

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged shyly. “Who else?”

  Her knees weakened at the love in his voice and the idea that he saw her in the magnificent sculpture he’d created. Drawn to this piece of him, this vision he’d had, she stepped forward and ran her fingers over the circles and oblong pieces of shiny metal and mirrors that covered the woman’s breasts. Her hand came back to her own body, and she touched the curve of her hip.

  “Me?” she repeated, unable to see herself in the glorious woman before her. “But she looks so free.” Was this his way of telling her he was leaving? Setting her free? Showing her this incredible piece of art first, so she wouldn’t stand in his way?

  “I call her Emerging Elegance.” He looked at the sculpture, as if he were studying it. His eyes were narrowed, focused, as he spoke. “I watched you dance that night at the studio, and you looked freer than I’d ever seen you before. Like you disappeared into the music, as if it transported you somewhere only you could see.”

  Her breathing became shallow as she listened to him describe exactly what she felt every time she danced. He saw what no one else had ever taken the time to notice.

  “Last night you were stunning on the dance floor. I’m surprised there weren’t more guys pawing at you.”

  She lifted tear-filled eyes to apologize and he pressed his finger to her lips.

  “Shh. Let me finish. Please.”

  He walked around the sculpture, and touched a corded piece of metal that wound around the upper thigh, across the lower belly, then frayed up by the shoulder.

  “At first, with us. With me,” he said. “You were bound by your own tethers. Rigid. Closed off. But slowly you’ve broken free of the memories, the heartaches, that imprisoned you.”

  My ghosts.

  He touched the shiny metal pieces that formed a tank top, the strap on the left shoulder whole, while the strap on the right was shredded apart, jagged and torn, leaving that shoulder bare. “You’ve opened up to me, and you’ve trusted yourself enough to try to trust me.”

  Life is so much better with you in it.

  Jana was no longer looking at the sculpture; she was watching him. In awe of his ability to see into her heart, into her soul, and understand exactly what she’d been feeling over the last few weeks. But why now? Why would he choose this moment to show her how well he knew her? She tried to swallow the emotions clogging her throat, but when he turned his warm gaze on her, their visual connection deepened the significance of his words, and she realized he’d been trying to tell her all along.

  “I purposely didn’t create a face, because your face…God, Jana, your face…”

  The way he said it, breathless and painful, like something about her face destroyed and completed him at once, had her reaching up and touching her cheek.

  He lifted his eyes to hers again, and everything else faded away. The air pulsed. His energy drew her closer. For a moment she didn’t think he was going to say another word, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hear it if he did. And then he touched her fingers, and sparks radiated up her arm, shocking her brain back to life.

  “Jana.” The
lapels of his suit coat rose with each inhalation as he stepped closer. “Your eyes tell the world you’re strong, that you don’t need anyone’s approval or help, while they unveil all your truths to me. I see your desire to be loved, cherished, adored, and I see your fear of the same.” He smiled, paused briefly, like he was remembering her in those moments. “The set of your lovely, rounded chin”—he curled his finger under her chin again—“tells others of your iron will, but it shows me what lies beneath, your heart, afraid of being hurt.”

  He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “And this sassy, smart mouth tells everyone else that there’s nothing in the world you can’t handle, but a single press of your lips, a whisper of my name in a certain cadence, reveals your deepest fears and insecurities. I couldn’t create your face, Jana, because I couldn’t share all of that specialness with the world. Selfishly, I wanted to keep something just for me.”

  He leaned in close, and she clutched at his jacket, needing his strength to counter her wobbly knees and expanding heart, which felt like it might burst through her chest.

  It took all of her focus to push his name from her lips. “Hunter?” She tightened her hold on his jacket, her eyes moving over the lighted trees, the flowers, the sculpture, and finally, the face of the man she loved more than life itself. “What is all this?”

  He got down on one knee and reached behind the sculpture, presenting her with a large wooden box. “This is romance. My girl likes romance.”

  Her limbs trembled. “But—”

  “Please, pretty girl. Please don’t fight me on everything tonight.”

  Pretty girl brought a rush of tears, and she closed her eyes against them.

  “Open your eyes, baby. Everything you want is right in front of you.” He opened the box, revealing some type of doorknob with a lot of buttons beneath it.

  “I don’t understand. You’re offering me a doorknob?”

  His smile made her laugh, despite her tears, as he rose to his feet.