She bit down on her lip, seemed to gaze into the distance for a second before shaking her head. “I, um, no. I mean, yes. Fine. Guess I’m still kind of tired, too.”
Of course she was. He wasn’t the only one who had been up half the night.
“Look, maybe we should take a pass. Early bedtimes all around.”
“Daddy, no! Brynn promised she would make my nails pretty after I stopped my thumb!”
There was an edge to Millie’s voice that served as a sharp reminder that she, too, was running close to empty. Lucky for him, before he had to negotiate, Brynn was tweaking Millie’s nose.
“That’s right, kiddo! I bought some super awesome nail polish just for this occasion. Also some glitter paints and sequins to decorate your jeans for the dance. Your lab coat, too, if you want to wear it.”
Millie’s smile dimmed a little as she placed a protective hand over the shirt, but she sat up straighter and eyed the bag in Brynn’s hand.
“Are there sparkles?”
“Would I forget the sparkles?” Brynn’s hand settled over her heart. “I am hurt, hurt, hurt.”
Millie’s giggle told him she would be okay for a while. Brynn, however, still worried him. Fragile wasn’t a word he would have ever used to describe her, yet that was how she struck him now. Not just because of the circles under her eyes and the lack of wattage in her smile, but because of something he couldn’t quite identify. She seemed almost hesitant. In other people, that wouldn’t be an issue, especially after the previous evening, but with Brynn?
“Mills, finish up that level. Brynn, can you give me a hand in the kitchen?”
The sudden wariness in her eyes did nothing to reassure him. “Sure.”
He waited for the door to close behind her before crossing his arms and studying her. “Okay. Out with it. Is this because of last night?”
“What? No, I told you, there’s no need to worry about that. I understand and I’m fine. Just a little tired. You take care of business and I’ll hang with Millie and everything will be right as rain.”
“Yeah, and that would explain why you sound like you’re going to fall apart any minute now.” Too late he realized that he had all but dared her to cry. Shit. Millie tears, he could handle. Brynn tears were totally different.
He’d guessed wrong, though.
“Fine. Fine! I was trying to spare your male sensibilities, but since you’re so determined to know the truth, it’s hormones, okay? I’m PMS-ing and everything makes me cry. So hush up and leave me alone and go do your thing.”
He almost believed her. Almost. If she hadn’t thrown in the line about wanting to spare him, he might have bought it. As it was, he had a strong suspicion that the woman who grew up with three brothers was trying to play him.
“Okay. Sorry I asked.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “There’s some leftover Easter chocolate in the freezer if you need it.”
She hadn’t expected that one. He could tell by the sudden widening of her eyes. His alert level was veering from pink to red—crap, she’s gonna cry—when she lunged forward, caught his lips between hers and kissed him with a kind of desperation that had him pulling her tight and molding her to him and wishing, God, wishing—
“Daddy, I killed the piggies!”
He jerked back, automatically swiveling toward the door, but Millie was shouting from the other room. Thank God. Because Brynn was flushed and he was breathing hard and the last thing he could have handled at this moment was an explanation.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
He shoved his fingers through his hair, mostly to keep them busy so they wouldn’t latch on to her again. “Yeah, well, if you hadn’t done that I probably would have, so don’t beat yourself up.”
She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, a faint smile played over her lips.
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure. Believe me.”
She ran a hand down his chest, lightly, but it was enough to make him step closer. When he realized what he had done he pulled back, but her touch left a trail that was leading him to places he knew he shouldn’t go but wanted to follow anyway.
“Brynn...”
“What?”
He hesitated. These were words that couldn’t be unsaid. But he wanted to say them anyway.
“You never said what you’re going to do after you’re done here.”
She averted her gaze, a gesture he was learning to hate. “I have plans. Family stuff.”
“In the area?”
She kept her focus firmly on the floor, but the hunch of her shoulders told him everything he needed to know.
Okay. It had been a good thought, but obviously there was no future in this. Not that he was looking for a future.
Except he might be. Not a full-fledged future, nothing definite or permanent, but if things were different...if she were going to be around...
Knowing that she wasn’t going to be there much longer made it more important to say what was in his heart. “If you were staying...”
He stopped. He had to touch her while he said this. He didn’t dare go for skin, so he reached for her hair, feeling the little kinks and curls wind around his fingers just like the way she curled herself around him after they made love.
“If you were staying, I would want to keep seeing you,” he said softly. “To see where this might lead.”
Her eyes closed, but not before he saw the sorrow building in them. “I would have liked that, too.”
It was the truth. He could tell. She wasn’t leaving because she wanted to but because she was promised elsewhere. Because her family needed her.
He could have accepted that a lot easier if he hadn’t seen her sleeping with Millie and for one brief moment they had felt like a family themselves.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY, as soon as the clock hit noon, Brynn saved the file she’d been working on, checked to make sure there were no urgent emails or festival-related messages and, certain that the coast was clear, turned to Taylor.
“Ready if you are.”
Taylor paled a bit but nodded. “Let’s go.”
They exited the building together and walked to their cars. A few minutes and one drive-thru later they were at Taylor’s apartment, huddled over her tiny excuse for a kitchen table.
Brynn peeled the foil from her container of curry chicken. “Okay, kiddo. Let’s go over this. Have you decided what to say to Ian?”
“I think so.” Taylor stared into her bowl of lamb tikka masala and wrinkled her nose. “This will be a good day for it, I think. He’s coming to the end of his biggest project and doesn’t have anything major on the horizon. The end is nigh, and all that crap.” Her soft sigh echoed through Brynn. “Okay. So I was thinking I would let him spill about his day like always, just in case something horrific has happened, but—”
“No.” Brynn slugged some water and shook her head. “Unless somebody has died, which I highly doubt, there’s no way his day could be bad enough to keep you from doing this.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Your plans are set. You’re as ready as you can be. And remember, hon. Every day you put it off is another day you’re lying to him.” Her throat tightened. Hank. “Lying to someone you care about... That sucks. For both of you.”
Taylor nodded. “You’re right. So, I say hi, I make sure he’s alone, and then I say, Ian, I’m so sorry, but even though I care about you very much, I don’t love you the way I should for us to have the kind of marriage we both want. So I’m ending our engagement and—” here, for the first time, her voice faltered “—and leaving Comeback Cove.”
“He’ll have questions. And he’ll try to change your mind.”
“I know. I’m ready.”
“He’s going to ask if there’
s someone else.”
Taylor nodded. “I still don’t have a good answer to that one.”
“I know. If you stick to the party line about not loving him the right way, he’s going to see right through you. If you flat-out deny, he probably won’t believe you.”
“And I don’t think I could say it without breaking down.”
Oh, hell, this was going to be tricky. “You’ll probably be crying already.”
“Yeah, I will. But I still think he’s going to see through it.”
“Maybe...” Brynn scooped up some curry, chewed, made a face. “Maybe you could pull a half-truth. Tell him that you have been faithful, but that you have found yourself being, I don’t know, drawn to someone else. And that’s what made you realize that this wasn’t meant to be.”
“Because if I was truly in love with him I wouldn’t be having those feelings about another guy. I could get through that one, I think. And it’s true.”
“He’s going to ask who.”
“I’ll tell him it’s irrelevant. Nothing happened, nothing will ever... Oh, crap, if I say that I’ll really fall apart.”
“Then don’t. Just tell him there’s no point in naming names because all that matters is what’s between the two of you.”
Taylor nodded. “I can do that.”
“What are you going to do about the ring?”
“I’ll give it to Moxie when I hand in my resignation.”
“And when will you do that?”
“Right after I hang up with Ian.” She smiled weakly. “And maybe have a quick belt of vodka, because Moxie scares me.”
“Okay. You got your most important things out of the office, right?”
“Right. And here’s the list of what I’d like you to grab. Moxie will probably let me pack up, but I won’t be thinking too clearly.”
“True.” Brynn tapped the back of Taylor’s hand. “Carter?”
Taylor swallowed. “He’s in Brockville today.”
So no goodbyes. “That’s probably the best way to handle it, hon.”
Taylor nodded silently. For a moment the only sound was her breathing, short and choppy. Then she shoved her take-out box aside.
“God, I hate lamb tikka.”
“I like it.” Brynn eyed the box longingly. “But I’m not going to finish it. I don’t want to associate it with today.”
“Which is why I said Indian instead of burgers.” Taylor’s mouth crumpled and she bent over, cushioning her face in her arms. “Oh, Brynn. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this.”
Brynn dropped her fork and moved to kneel beside Taylor, pulling her close. “I know, sweetie. I know. Just keep reminding yourself that once you get through this, you’re going to get on that plane and the worst will be behind you.”
“It feels like I’m running away. Like I’m throwing everyone into a horrible situation and flying off to Bermuda.”
“For one thing, Charlottetown is very nice, but it’s hardly Bermuda. For another, once you’ve said your piece, would it help anyone to have you here?”
“No.” She sat up and wiped her eyes. “I know that. But...everyone I love is here.”
“I know. And someday... Someday, maybe, you can come back. But you have a good friend waiting there for you. It won’t be home but you’ll have her, and she will get you through the worst.”
Taylor nodded silently and mopped more tears. “I will be so glad to hit the point when I stop crying every other minute.”
If you were staying, I would want to keep seeing you. To see where this might lead.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I know.”
They sat silently. At last, Taylor breathed in.
“I, um, guess I’d better get to it.”
“You’re sure you want me to leave?”
Taylor nodded.
“Text me when you’re done.”
Another nod.
“If you need me to do anything else...”
“Right.”
How could one little word carry so much pain?
Brynn reached, but Taylor shook her head, her hand pressed tight to her mouth.
At that, Brynn’s gut twisted. All the words she longed to say crowded together in her throat, but for Taylor’s sake, she swallowed them down.
“Love you,” she whispered, and closed the door.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BACK IN THE OFFICE, Brynn was too restless to focus. She filled a box with the items from Taylor’s list—a plant, a couple of books, some funny cartoons—and hid it beside the desk.
She opened a file. Typed two sentences. Closed it.
Checked her voice mail. Nothing.
Checked her email. Two things, neither of which she trusted herself to deal with at the moment.
Opened her drawers. Pulled out a pencil decorated with Angry Birds.
Hank.
She dropped the pencil, buried her face in her hands. God, this sucked so bad.
She longed to tell him the truth, to make this easier for him. But she couldn’t. She had promised Taylor and she had to keep that promise. And she couldn’t, absolutely couldn’t let him know the whole story, the parts that would only lead to more pain.
But oh, God. To think that last night was to be their last time together? With her a weeping fool and Millie killing pigs on the other side of the door?
No.
She couldn’t do anything more for Taylor, or for Carter or Ian or anyone else who was impacted by this whole damned mess. But she could do something for Hank. Something for her.
She could give them one more memory before reality pushed in on them. One moment to stop faking and be real. One stolen hour to let herself show what she wished to hell wasn’t true.
One brief moment to let herself be in love with Hank.
* * *
HANK WAS IN THE Grenadier cabin with the windows open, the music cranked and his shirt off—all the better to enjoy the first truly warm day of the year. There was nothing like sawing and sunshine to work up a sweat. After months of snow, cold and damp, he was more than ready.
“‘Here comes the sun,’” he sang, wondering if George Harrison had ever suspected how many folks would think the song was written with them in mind. Because as he measured and cut, hammered and sweated, all he could think was—yeah. He’d had his winter, and it had been a bitch. But maybe now the sun was coming back.
Or maybe it had been there all along, but he’d needed some help cracking the door to let it in.
This floor was the last major repair on his list. He still had about twelve thousand little things, but they would be easy to knock off, and none of them were essential. The festival folks could set up next week and he could breathe easy knowing that the inaugural guests would have safe, solid accommodations for the Victoria Day weekend.
Barring some kind of disaster, and despite the curveball of hosting the festival, he might actually pull this off.
He was setting the final floorboard in place when a shadow blocked the sunbeams pouring through the door. He looked up, startled, and settled back with a smile when he saw the cause. Brynn stood in the middle of the light, her hands in the pockets of the full skirt that was rippling in the light breeze.
“Hey. What are you doing here in the middle of the day? Playing hooky?”
She glanced around the cabin, her gaze lingering on the sawhorse, the wood scraps, the pile of sawdust. She walked to where he sat on his haunches, looked at the floor and dropped down, her skirt spreading around her like a puddle of pink roses.
Whoa.
“I had something that was best done away from the office,” she said.
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
Instead of answering with words, she leaned forwa
rd and caught his lips in a kiss.
Taken by surprise, blindsided by the movement and the rush of heat, he lost his balance. Instinct had him clutching her as he swayed. She sighed against his mouth and grabbed his arms and tipped with him to the ground. He landed awkwardly, half on his side, half on his back, but still she stayed with him, clinging, kissing, driving the breath from his lungs.
He pulled his mouth away.
“Whatever you were working on before you got here, I really, really approve.”
She made an odd sound—almost like she was holding back a sob—but then she kissed him again. Not the teasing kind of kiss he would have expected given the fact they were in the middle of an unfinished cabin in the middle of a workday, but frantic ones laced with some underlying tension that had his arms closing tighter around her even as his brain whispered, Hang on, something’s off here.
“Brynn?”
She shook her head and silenced him with another kiss. Her breath came in harsh gasps that echoed off the bare walls. Something was definitely wrong, but before he could ask she pushed him flat on his back and straddled him and, sweet Jesus, she wasn’t wearing anything under the skirt.
His head started spinning. Something wasn’t right, she was too intense, but she was tugging her shirt over her head and—oh, God—there was nothing under there, either, except skin and heat and invitation. She curled forward so her hair spilled across his chest and moved against him, and if he’d had any doubt of her plans, it was knocked aside by her hand at the snap of his jeans.
“Brynn?”
“No words,” she whispered against his heart. “No questions.”
A mighty fine offer, but there was one thing he would never let himself forget.
“Brynn. Babe. I don’t carry condoms in my toolbox.”
She sat up, thighs gripping his hips as if she feared he might try to leave, and pulled a most welcome foil packet from her skirt pocket. She pressed it into his hand and curled his fingers around the edges. The corners dug into his palm but he didn’t care because she was bracing herself against his shoulders and curling against him and he knew that as soon as he could make himself let go of her, his jeans would be history.
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