A Moment of Bliss

by Heather McGovern

  “I’ve been sitting in there for . . . I don’t know how long.”

  “Three hours. At least, that’s when I found out you’d left.”

  “That long?”

  Madison nodded, pulling the quilt closer. “You went there alone, in the dark?”

  Whitney pushed her feet against the concrete floor, making them swing a little faster. “Too numb to care about the dark.”

  Madison didn’t know what else to say, and she wasn’t about to open her mouth and say something stupid. Instead, she helped Whitney keep up the swinging.

  Time went by—it could’ve been a few minutes or thirty—but Madison had to say something or Whitney would stay hidden all night. Hiding wasn’t helping matters. If Madison couldn’t open up and talk about her feelings—all the squishy stuff that let people in—to help herself, then the least she could do was help the bride.

  She shifted on the swing, turning to face Whitney. “Jack told us what happened.”

  Whitney stared straight ahead.

  She reminded Madison so much of herself, trying to put on the strong front. A strong front that wouldn’t fool everyone, and could very well ruin this wonderful thing in her life.

  Madison could’ve cried right along with her.

  “I’m sorry,” Whitney whispered. “All of the work you guys did, the trouble you went through for us.”

  “You weren’t trouble. I enjoyed planning your wedding.” She meant it too. Every moment of arranging their event had been an experience unlike the dozens of events before. From talking about bolted-down furniture, to cake tasting, to debating with Devlin over how much dance-floor space they needed, to Sophie and her looks that said a million words, to Roark and his . . . everything.

  She didn’t want the wedding to be off because it’d damage her business. That was unavoidable, but she’d bounce back from it. She always did. The universe had dealt her worse hands than this, and she’d always made it through. But what about Roark? Would he bounce back? Now that she knew how shaky things were here at Honeywilde, she wasn’t sure.

  And would she bounce back from having Roark in her life?

  In Whitney and Jack, she saw two people who cared for one another, one sitting here in tears, and they were letting some kind of bullshit keep them apart. And, for once, she wanted love—real love—to prevail.

  “I don’t care about the wedding, Whitney. I’m just sorry you guys aren’t getting married.” As she spoke the words, she realized it was true. Her regrets weren’t about the notoriety or what it’d do to her business. She was upset that these two people, who seemed perfect for each other, who were clearly in love, were apart.

  She regretted that she’d had something so special right within her reach and was too scared to grab on and refuse to let go.

  “I’m sorry too,” Whitney said between sniffles. “I really wanted to marry Jack tomorrow, and dance and eat chocolate bourbon cake.”

  “Then . . .” Madison shook her head, struggling to keep up. “I don’t understand. If you want to marry Jack, then why don’t you? You called it off, you can call it back on.”

  Whitney squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head. “I can’t. I left him. He hates me.”

  Madison stared at Whitney, who was trying to keep a stiff upper lip about it but the agony was oozing off her.

  “He doesn’t hate you. If you want to be with him, why’d you call it off?” Her tone bordered on harsh, she heard it. She was demanding an answer, but to hell with sitting silent. Whitney needed to answer to herself on this one, and this might be the only way.

  She shook her head, strawberry blond waves bouncing.

  “Why?” Madison repeated.

  “What if getting married ruins everything? Being together all the time, working and living together. We’ll end up killing each other.”

  “That’s what Jack said.” Madison tilted her head, remembering. “Actually, that’s what Jack said Troutman said.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Whitney . . . I’m just going to say it. I think your manager is trying to sabotage your relationship.”

  She wiped at her nose. “That isn’t new. He hates us being together, but it’s not him. He couldn’t sow doubt if it wasn’t already there. For me anyway. Did Jack talk to you?”

  “A little.”

  “A little is a lot for Jack. What did he say? Was he upset?”

  “Of course, he’s upset. The man loves you. You have to know that.”

  “I do, but . . .” She turned toward Madison, her fingers curled into the quilt. “Can I tell you something?”

  “I think you’d better.”

  Whitney looked away, as if she was bolstering herself for something. “Everyone thinks Jack is this bad boy, troubled lead guitarist. And he is, to an extent. But he’s also driven and professional and focused. Like, he really has his stuff together. I don’t have anything together. Nothing. I’m the biggest mess you’ll ever meet, but I hide it well. Scary well.”

  Madison rubbed at her temple. The girl had a point here somewhere.

  “Don’t you see? I’m the trouble in this relationship, not him. People think I’m the Goody Two-shoes and that he’ll somehow bring me down.” She tossed her head back. “Jack is the one who’s got it together, I’m the wreckage. Just . . . no one knows. I will drag him down.”

  Madison studied her; the pained expression proved the truth of her words. Whitney thought she was too damaged for the man she loved. It was a sentiment Madison understood all too well. She pulled the quilt up higher; she was colder than before, a shiver running through her arms.

  “Does Jack know?” she dared to ask.

  “Know what?”

  “That you’re a mess and you’re scared of hurting him?”

  Whitney started, then turned and gave her a sad smile. “He knew before I did.”

  Madison’s eyes burned at the sight of that smile. She knew what lay behind it, and exactly how Whitney felt. She tightened her grip, trying to hang on as the broken parts of her shook loose and flew around her. She’d held herself together so tightly, for so long, but she was wreckage, just like Whitney.

  Jack knew the real Whitney, the good and the bad, and he didn’t care. It was obvious to anyone paying attention.

  And Roark knew Madison. More than anyone, he got her. He saw who she really was and had never once turned away. He’d tried to take over earlier tonight, sure, but he wasn’t the one who ran. And he wasn’t the one leaving.

  What if he knew she needed him? He was there for the people who needed him—sometimes a little too there—but even so, it showed he was the last person who’d ever turn his back on her.

  “Jack—” She cleared her throat, trying to steady her shaking voice. “Jack must be okay with you, just as you are, because I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

  Whitney’s laugh was wet as she pressed her face into the blanket. “But I’m scared,” she said, giving words to how they both felt. “I’m scared out of my mind and I feel awful because I shouldn’t be. I’m supposed to be this . . . this . . .”

  “Strong woman.” Madison filled in the blank.

  “Yes. This strong woman who has it together, and I don’t have shit together. On stage, sure, but in my life? No. Nowhere close. What if I screw this up? What if he gets sick of me? What if he—”

  “Realizes what he got himself into.”

  “Yes.” Whitney rubbed at the corners of her eyes.

  Madison knew how she felt. Oh god, did she know. These were her own fears, laid bare in the words of someone else. If Whitney could tell her, a relative stranger, then maybe Madison could tell Roark.

  “Do you want to be with Jack?”

  Whitney nodded, her face blotchy and wet, but conviction sharp in her eyes.

  “Do you love him?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then be scared about it, be freaked out, but marry him anyway.”

  Whitney’s eyes went wide, her face expressing precisely how Madis
on felt.

  “W-what?” Whitney stammered.

  Madison couldn’t believe that was her advice either, but when it came down to the very root of things, these were two people who loved each other. They loved each other enough that they could work through everything else, including Whitney’s insecurities. After all, wasn’t that what love did? Stuck with you, supported you, and believed in you? Wasn’t that what made it love?

  “Jack loves you too and it’s okay to be scared, but you go find him right now and you marry him anyway. Don’t let your fear and insecurity cause you to lose him.”

  Do as I say, not as I do.

  Whitney took a deep breath. “But . . . what if—”

  “No. No what-if, you go talk to him now.” She sounded more like herself when she was trying to close a deal, except this time she had real conviction behind it, not just a front.

  “Then you have to go with me. To find him.”

  “This should be a private—”

  Whitney grabbed Madison’s forearm, squeezing. “Please. You have to come with me, at least until I find him. I’ll talk to him, but I can’t approach him alone. I’ll back out.”

  “Okay.” Madison patted her hand. “Let’s go find him.” Then she could find Roark, and hope he wouldn’t let her back out either.

  Chapter 29

  He almost plowed into them as he barreled through the portico in search of Madison.

  Whitney stood there, bedraggled in an oversized coat, Madison by her side, staring at him, one of the inn’s quilts clutched in her hands.

  “Have you seen Jack?” Whitney asked first.

  “Yeah, he’s . . . come on, he’s inside.” He led them over to Jack, Madison eerily still when they reached the great room.

  Jack looked up and the four of them stayed frozen that way, until finally Madison cleared her throat, encouraging Whitney with a hand on her arm.

  “Go on.” Madison pointed to the chair closest to Jack.

  Whitney hesitated. “Is . . . is it okay if I talk to you for a second?” she asked Jack.

  He nodded, watching her sit down.

  They stared at each other in a painful silence, until Madison spoke up. “Whitney has something she’d like to say.”

  Jack studied Whitney, not a trace of resentment or anger on his face, but it still took him reaching over and touching her hand for her to speak.

  “I’m sorry that I said us sharing a life would be the biggest mistake anyone could make.”

  Jack flinched, pain in the fine lines around his eyes.

  “It’s . . . that’s not at all true. Not in the way I said it.” Whitney slid toward the edge of her seat, closer to Jack. “I meant it’s a huge mistake for you to get stuck with me. I ran off because I didn’t want you to be stuck with me. Because I know how I am and . . .” She looked to Madison, and Madison nodded.

  “And I’m scared,” she said.

  Jack sat forward too, holding her hand in both of his. “I know. I know how you are too, remember?”

  “But what if I’m not enough, what if you only think you love me, but end up hating me later? You deserve someone who isn’t so messed up.”

  Roark’s gaze clashed with Madison’s, and he refused to look away.

  “I deserve you. I want you,” Jack said.

  Madison stared back. “Can we . . . ?” She tilted her head toward the veranda.

  Roark nodded and strode toward her.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  The wash of relief that came over Roark came with anxiety right on its heels. She might only want to remind him that things were over. That she was right after all. That she’d fixed things with the bride and groom and he had no business in Whitney and Jack’s business. That she’d never needed him for any of this and he was tromping on toes, as usual.

  They stepped out onto the veranda, the early morning air a cold slap in the face. She wandered to the banister, and Roark followed.

  Her shoulders curled in as she folded her arms around the quilt, trembling.

  “Here.” Roark eased the quilt from her hands and put it around her shoulders. “You mind?” He held an edge up to join her because she wasn’t the only one shivering.

  They pulled it tight around them, holding it closed in the front.

  “I’m . . . I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about how much Honeywilde needed this wedding.” It was the first among many things he needed to tell her.

  “I know.” She shook her head. “But it’s okay. I understand why you didn’t.”

  “No, it’s really not okay. After all we’ve shared . . . I could’ve confided in you. I know that.”

  Little white lights hung on the topiary trees, ready for a party, casting a glow across the veranda. The first time he’d come out here with her, he was already captivated. In a way, he knew it then. He couldn’t figure her out, and that intrigued him. The tough outer shell and the vulnerability underneath that no one got to see—except then he did.

  “You wanted to talk?” He had none of his usual certainty. In fact, he wasn’t sure of anything, other than Madison wasn’t leaving here without knowing how he felt about her. She needed to know he was an idiot for not doing everything in his power to convince her to stay. He’d persuaded her not to wait for them to be together until after the wedding. Convinced her to be with him for as long as she was here; surely he could talk her into being with him indefinitely.

  Madison turned, clinging to her end of the quilt. Staring at the center of his chest, she worried her cheek. “When we first started out, I told you that the last thing I wanted was for us to be any kind of thing.”

  “I know.” But it’d happened for him anyway.

  “Because I was leaving and this was going to be short and sweet. And fun. Right?”

  “Right.”

  She finally lifted her gaze to look at him, and what Roark saw in her eyes knocked the air from his lungs. Madison open and vulnerable, and scared out of her mind.

  “It’s not fun anymore.” Her voice shook, as she blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. “You were supposed to be like anyone else. We’d enjoy each other and it’d be over, and it’d be fine. Same as always. But I’m leaving and I’m not fine, and that scares me because. . .” She glanced away before carrying on. “Because I don’t know how to handle feeling this way. This wasn’t supposed to be hard. Leaving here, leaving you, it wasn’t supposed to hurt. But it does!”

  Roark reached for her, offering her comfort with a hand on her arm, and she kept going.

  “I was so worried—so scared of letting you in, but you’re already in here.” She pointed to the center of her chest again. “I know I never said I wanted anything more from you than the here and now, but I was wrong. The thought of leaving you—”

  “Stay.” He couldn’t get the word out fast enough. “Don’t leave. Stay here, with me.” He shifted his hold on her arm to grip her hand. “I don’t want you to leave. Since you walked in that front door, I’ve wanted you here. I want you in my life. By my side. Always.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but he stopped her. Because knowing her, knowing what she’d been through, this mattered. “And I want you to know, even if you say no, even if you’re too scared to stay, and you reject me completely, I still want you to know, I want you. You are worth me taking this chance. And you don’t have to say anything else if you don’t want to. But I need you to know, I love you.”

  * * *

  The tears that’d pricked her eyes, threatening to fall, spilled over. The dam she built decades ago, broke. All she could do was bury her face in his chest and let it flow. In her life, she’d never heard those words. Not from anyone. And she never expected to.

  “I don’t want to go,” she mumbled into his shirt.

  Roark stroked her tangled hair. “Then don’t. You don’t have to go anywhere.”

  “But. Why?” she asked moments later, watery eyed and rubbing her face on the quilt. Why would anyone love me?r />
  “Why what? Why do I love you?”

  She managed a sniffling nod.

  “Because of you.” Roark shrugged, like it was all so simple. “Have you met you? You’re pretty damn special.”

  “But you’d put yourself out there like that, for me? Knowing how I am. Knowing I’m messed up. I might run off like Whitney.”

  Another shrug. “She came back. That’s what love does. It hurts and then it heals. I want to be with you and if you say no or yes, that doesn’t change how I feel about you. You need to know that. I can’t let you walk out of my life without knowing exactly how much I want you in it, and if I can convince you to stay then you definitely need to know I love you. And if you break my heart, then I give it to you to break. You’re worth that risk to me.”

  She’d thought she was done crying. But she was wrong.

  Roark pulled her close, his strong arms around her as she wept and shook. She cried because she didn’t deserve him, and she cried because somehow she’d gotten him anyway.

  She kept her face pressed to his shirt. “But I’m such a mess.”

  “You’ve met my family. You’ll fit right in.”

  Her laugh was watery as she mopped at her face with the quilt.

  “I don’t want you to go,” he said. “I know you have a life that isn’t here. I get that and I don’t know how we’ll work this out, but I don’t want to lose you.”

  Madison shook her head. “This is the most life I’ve ever had. I can do my job anywhere.”

  He nodded, studying her face, which could not be a pretty sight right now.

  The thought of saying the next few words, of putting the truth out there, made her want to throw up in the topiaries. But she had to say it. She needed to step past the fear of him walking away, for her.

  She looked in his pale eyes and prayed for the best. “I love being with you. I like your big old inn and family. I like Beau the dog. I don’t . . . I don’t want to leave you. I want you in my life. You and Honeywilde and all of it. I would be okay . . . being here. In this place. With you.”

  He reached for her hands, and with him holding on to her, she grew stronger. Braver. “I want all of this, and that scares me. I can’t pretend like it doesn’t anymore. Wanting you scares the hell out of me, but the thought of leaving here on Sunday, of driving off and never seeing you again, never feeling the way I’ve felt the last few weeks, scares me more.”