Sweetest Heartbreak (Sweetness Book 1)

by Heather Bentley

  The house is small with three bedrooms and one bathroom. The first door we come to is the bathroom, complete with a mustard-yellow sink and matching toilet.

  “Oh my God, Heath. Have you ever seen anything so ugly?” She’s motioning to the sink and toilet, two fingers still pinching her nose, as she reaches over and opens the cabinet door on the vanity. “Ah!” she shrieks.

  She jumps back into my chest, and my arms instinctively encase her body, turning her away from the threat. I move her to the hallway and go back to the bathroom. Whatever scared her has yet to make a sound, but the one thing neither of us can miss is the potent odor. When I bend over and discover the source, I slam the cabinet door shut, grab her hand, and pull her down the hall and out the front door.

  We’re each inhaling exaggerated deep breaths of fresh air as the realtor hangs up her cell phone and approaches.

  “So, what did you—”

  “There’s something dead in the bathroom. Possibly skunks, but it’s too decomposed to tell for sure.”

  Both women bring their hands to their faces in shock.

  “Oh my goodness. I’ll call the seller’s realtor right now.”

  “You do that. We’ll meet you at the next house.”

  The woman starts tapping at her phone as I lead Leah to the car, shaking my head in disgust.

  The second I’m seated, Leah looks over to me, saddened. “Do you really think it was skunks?”

  My shoulders rise and fall. “Whatever it was, it’s been there for a while.”

  She nods flatly.

  Just as I think this day is over before it started, she startles me and raises her hands out between us, flapping them like she’s trying to shake something off, while breaking out into full-blown laughter.

  “Holy shit, that was disgusting!” She takes a few deep breaths of stifling, stagnant air. “Open the windows. Hurry! I need air. Fresh air!”

  I do as I’m told as my own laughter rolls over me. As soon as I get both of our windows down, we each lean our heads out and take long, cleansing breaths. As we drive to the next house she continues to tilt her head out the window, her ponytail whipping in the wind and her beaming face turned to the sky. Seeing her smiling and color filling her cheeks, it’s almost too much. I watch as long as I can before I’m forced to turn my attention back to the road.

  Pulling herself back in and resting her head on the seat, she turns to me, eyes as wide as her smile. “I’ve seen some bad houses, but that one wins the prize.”

  I focus on the road, barely able to force a smile in agreement. That’s because I can feel her staring at me, and she has yet to turn away. Her eyes sear my skin more than the blazing sun shining down on us. Resting my elbow on the open window ledge and laying my head in my hand, I give my hair a tug in a poor attempt to keep my shit together.

  The next three houses are equally small and dated, although fortunately without anything dead lurking in any dark corners. Each one is in need of expensive repairs.

  We’re pulling away from the last house when she starts to show signs of defeat.

  Out of nowhere, she sits up in excitement, grabbing my knee without thought. “Look at that,” she whispers, entranced. “That’s beautiful.”

  When I follow her eyes, I see it. The house with the wraparound porch that I found on the Internet. It’s just like the picture, except with one difference. The realtor’s sign posted in the front yard now has a SOLD sticker stuck diagonally over the front of it.

  I stop, watching her take in every nuance of the house. She tucks a stray hair behind her ear as she stares out the window, but all I can do is take in her.

  My stomach chooses that moment to rumble loud enough for her to hear.

  “Want to grab lunch?” I ask.

  “Sure. Oh, wait. I’d better not. I’m . . . going out for dinner tonight.”

  Fuck.

  “Oh, yeah. Forget I asked.”

  “No, I’m sorry. The least I can do is feed you after the morning we had. Rain check?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Leah

  “No. Nope. Not happening. Go change.” Connor points toward the hall before I barely get a chance to enter the room. He’s home for the weekend, although he never really said why.

  “Why? What’s wrong with this outfit?”

  “That skirt is too short. That’s what’s wrong. Who takes a girl to an outdoor concert on a first date anyway? Is he trying to get out of paying for a meal?”

  “You are such a pain, you know that? He’s packing us everything we need for a picnic dinner.”

  “And you think you’re going to sit on the ground in that skirt? Put something else on, Lee.”

  “Will you stop? He’s bringing chairs. No one is sitting on the ground. Besides, the skirt is fine. Deal with it.”

  “When is Beef Barley picking you up anyway?”

  “Have you been talking to Eli?”

  His silent smirk is my answer.

  “He’s not picking me up. I’m meeting him there.”

  Connor crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes. “I’m liking this guy less and less.”

  “It was my idea, Con. I still haven’t ruled out the possibility that he’s a belly-button-fuzz-collecting sociopath.”

  The truth is, Campbell wanted to not only pick me up for the concert, but also spend the entire day with me. He thought we could start at the arboretum and then head over to a new farm-to-table restaurant for lunch, followed by a walk through an art fair before the concert at night.

  I might have told a small white lie and used my brother’s visit as an excuse for only being able to swing the concert. It wasn’t entirely untrue. We did catch up over bowls of cereal before I left to go house-hunting with Heath.

  “Campbell, this is quite the spread. I was picturing fried chicken and potato salad, but you really outdid yourself. Thank you.”

  We’re seated side by side in camping chairs, a large hunter-green blanket spread out below us and a low table covered in a red-and-white-checkered cloth in front of us. It’s loaded with everything from an antipasto platter and pastry-wrapped asparagus to fruit kabobs, Cobb salad in mason jars, and mini-cheesecakes.

  I’ll have to get the name of his caterer.

  “Thanks. Because we didn’t get together this afternoon, it gave me time to work on this.” He motions to the table in front of us.

  “Wait, you made all of this?”

  “Yeah. Why? You don’t like it? They sell food here if you’d like something else.”

  “No, it’s amazing. I just assumed you ordered it from somewhere. It’s all so pretty. I almost feel bad about eating it.”

  Although I’m impressed, this is all becoming too much, too soon. He hasn’t stopped watching me, like he’s looking for some sort of validation, so I grab a fruit kabob and pull off a piece of melon. Of course, it’s perfectly ripe, just like everything else seems to be with this guy. From his perfectly pressed oxford shirt, folded perfectly up his tan arms, to his perfectly pressed khaki shorts and perfectly styled hair and perfectly white teeth, this guy is too—

  “How are you single?” The words escape me before I can stop them.

  “What?”

  “I mean, do you secretly like to eat drywall or something? There must be something wrong with you.”

  “Drywall?” He’s laughing now.

  He thinks I’m kidding. Well, maybe I am about the drywall, but so far, this guy is the complete package.

  “Actually, I was with someone for five years, but we broke up a few months ago.”

  “Oh.” I’m such an idiot. “I’m sorry, Campbell. That’s a long time.”

  “It’s fine. Really. A lot can change over five years. While I was trying to decide what was next for me, she seemed to have her life all figured out. It turns out, what we wanted just didn’t fit together anymore, so we went our separate ways.”

  “That’s very mature of you both. Are you still friends?”

  �
��Yeah, but she travels a lot for her job, and I’m busy with school and the vet’s office, so we rarely talk anymore. It’s just the natural course of things, I guess. I mean, how weird would it be to be close with your ex after you started dating someone new?”

  It hits me that I can’t imagine not seeing Heath anymore all because I’m involved with someone else. And that goes for Eli, too. Even after everything, or maybe because of it. The three of us are a package deal.

  “Leah?”

  I look into his kind eyes as he pulls me from my thoughts.

  “I asked if you’d recently dated anyone seriously.”

  “Oh, sorry. No, not for a while. I’ve had a lot of strange first dates lately though, but that’s been it.” I’ve never considered having to tell someone about my relationship with Heath and everything that’s happened since. The thought terrifies me.

  Campbell’s hand strokes my arm, and I stiffen.

  “I think they’re starting. Maybe we should make a plate before the lights dim.”

  As if on cue, the lights strung high among the gathering trees start to flash, signaling the concert is about to begin, before going out entirely a few minutes later.

  We sit in the darkness, the only light coming from candles on our table and those of the tables surrounding us, when he reaches over and pulls my hand from my lap and holds it in his own.

  “Is this all right?”

  I can barely hear him over the music, so I just nod in response. It’s the first time I’ve held another man’s hand since Heath, and it just feels . . . foreign. After all this time, I can still feel the difference between the two. My hand doesn’t feel as small in his as it did with Heath. And he doesn’t give my fingers the occasional squeeze the way Heath always did.

  I turn my thoughts away from Heath and focus on enjoying this incredible date with a smart, polite, caring man. A date any girl would be thrilled to be on.

  A text flashes on my phone, saving me from my thoughts. I slide my hand from his to grab it off the table and see it’s my realtor. Just as I was ready to take a break from house-hunting, she says there’s a house that’s been reduced, and they need to sell it fast. We confirm a time for early tomorrow morning.

  Campbell reaches to take my hand again, but I excuse myself to use the restroom. Once there, I text Heath.

  Free tomorrow morning?

  Fortunately, I get a quick response.

  Sure. Another house?

  Yeah. Realtor thinks this is THE ONE.

  Then, let’s get you a house.

  Easy now. We don’t know what lurks inside.

  Aren’t you on a date right now?

  Yes.

  That exciting, huh?

  Very funny.

  Send me the time, Princess. I’ll pick you up with your usual skinny vanilla.

  Thanks. You’re the best.

  I go back to my seat, a genuine smile gracing my features for the first time since my date with Campbell began.

  During intermission, he does most of the talking—everything from school to his love of animals, his parents, travel, and food. I’m sure there is more than even that, but after a while, his words fade into white noise. I can’t grasp on to any of it. Nothing is drawing me in for more. Here I am, with a chance at a fresh start, but my thoughts are somewhere else. But where, I struggle to work out.

  With the night over and the leftovers packed up, Campbell and I are leaning against my car. He’s holding my hand again, something I’m realizing he really likes to do, and I can tell he’s thinking about what I’m thinking about. The good-night kiss.

  Even after all of my mistakes in Chicago, I somehow feel like this will be my first real kiss since Heath. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later. I just need to suck it up and get it over with. Besides, I’m sure Heath has kissed plenty of women since me. My stomach does an odd clench at the thought.

  Campbell tugs on my hand, drawing my focus back to him. “Did you have a good night? Because I did.”

  A flash of guilt rides over me with the realization that I’ve been only half-present tonight.

  I smile, hoping to cover it up. “It was a wonderful night. Thank you. I think it’s the best date I’ve been on in a long time.”

  He steps in front of me, my back still planted to the car, as he takes my other hand and sets his feet on either side of mine. “I hope to get the chance to give you many more.”

  He leans in and brushes his lips across my own before pulling back, giving me a moment to get my bearings about me. I take a shallow breath and will my tense muscles to relax as he brings his mouth back to mine—this time, with far less trepidation. With our hands still connected, he kisses me like the man I’ve gotten to know over the course of the night. Gently, with care and compassion.

  As he breaks the kiss, all I can think is, like everything else about him, this kiss is nice. And nice is good. Nice is easy. Nice is comfortable. Nice might not make my toes curl and my breath quicken, but nice is predictable, and more importantly, nice is safe.

  Heath

  Always for you.

  I immediately hit backspace, remembering not only that’s not who we are, but also that she was probably sitting next to Minestrone as she was texting me. Which means, she was just sending a simple, average text that she’d send to any friend.

  Who cares? She texted me—me—while she was out with him.

  The thought fills me with a new energy that I was certain had faded after two hours on the court. I jump up from the sofa and take the few steps to the glass doors. I start the music, grab a ball, and go in for a layup. Then, another. But it’s not enough.

  I roll the ball to the side and start running sprints the length of the court. I push myself harder each time, fueling my body with thoughts that she stopped to think of me while she was on her date. It doesn’t matter that it was about a house. She could’ve waited until she got home or not even texted at all. But she did, and that’s all that counts.

  The house is a modest redbrick ranch with three bedrooms and two baths. The realtor told us the husband had already relocated while his wife and new baby stayed behind to sell the house. They were all set to close when the buyer never showed to the closing. So, last night, in a panic, they dropped the price, and here we are.

  We barely make it through the door when I see Leah’s hand rise to her chest, and her eyes widen. She likes it. With a nine-foot ceiling and glistening hardwood floor, it’s easy to see why. It’s deceivingly more spacious than it appears from the outside.

  To the left of the narrow foyer is a small living room painted in a light beige with a white-washed brick fireplace at the far wall. We walk past that room and into an eat-in kitchen that looks to have been remodeled in the last ten years or so. The cabinets are white with matching white appliances. I know I’ve been looking at too many houses with her when my first thought is how much better it would look with stainless steel. I wonder if she’d let me buy them for her housewarming.

  Unlike the other homes, the realtor hasn’t left her side. I’m sure she’s expecting Leah to put an offer in and wants to get it done as soon as she can. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s carrying the contract in her purse.

  The kitchen is open on one side to a decent-sized family room with a vaulted ceiling. On the other side is a dining room that connects to the living room and painted in the same beige. A simple brass fixture hangs in the center of the room.

  I watch Leah glance from wall to wall, room to room, and think of nothing other than holding her hand, bickering with her over paint colors and furniture placement. Like any of that matters. As if I wouldn’t give in to her every vision and desire. Just to see her smile. And to know that I was the one who put it there.

  The realtor leads us down a long hall where we take a quick look at the first bedroom, then the master, which has a small and dated bathroom, and finally the third bedroom. Unlike the first two bedrooms, Leah freezes in the doorway, just peeking her head in. I come up from be
hind her, expecting to see the deal-breaker, but all I see is pink. Every wall is painted a bright cotton-candy pink, each finished with a stenciled floral design that runs along the top. Against the far wall is a white crib, and in the corner is a white rocking chair.

  “Jesus. How many coats do you think it’ll take to cover that?”

  She doesn’t answer me, just continues to stare a moment longer before turning away.

  We walk through once more, making note of the closets and attic space and the fenced-in yard. Overall, there’s no question. This house is better than anything we’ve seen so far even if it is at the top of her price range.

  She asks the realtor to give us a minute. As soon as we’re alone, she turns to me.

  “What do you think?” she whispers.

  “I think it’s great. You should make an offer.”

  She’s looking for a voice of reason, and I’m determined to be just that.

  She nods, looking like she’s lost.

  I bring my hands to her shoulders and lean down to her. “Hey, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

  Her thoughts spill out. “It’s a house, Heath. A real house. With real bills and real problems. It just makes me nervous; that’s all.”

  “Whoa, take a breath. You haven’t even put an offer in yet.”

  She nods as she wrings her hands.

  “Can you see yourself living here? More importantly, can you see yourself being happy here?”

  “I can. I really can. I think I’d paint the family room white and get a gray sofa and maybe put a big, oversized chair with an ottoman in the corner by the window so I can sit and read. And I saw a table and chairs set online that would fit perfectly in the kitchen. And I’m sure Connor would come home and help me put in a new vanity in the master bath. And I would paint the spare bedrooms something neutral and eventually get a couple of beds for friends to stay over. And, in the yard—”

  “Slow down, Princess. Let’s get that offer written up before someone else gets the same idea.” I turn her body toward the front door and teasingly march her to the front where she waves the realtor back inside.