Holiday In the Hamptons

by Sarah Morgan

  He saw her hesitate and thought, for a fleeting moment, that for once she might be about to open up and let him inside her head.

  And then she gave a brief shake of her head. “Nothing to share. It just seemed simpler to pretend to be Harriet. You should be grateful. I was sparing us both an awkward moment.”

  “Why would it have been awkward? Because we haven’t spoken in ten years? Because the last time we were together, you were walking away from me? Because you walked away without talking to me about how you were feeling? I’m used to that, Fliss. It’s your survival instinct kicking in. It’s the way you operate. The only way to stop you running away when the going gets tough is to block the exit. It’s the reason I’m standing in this doorway.”

  “If you know that, then you’ll kindly step out of my way.” She shoved his chest, and he stepped to one side. Not because he was willing to end the conversation, but because he was worried about her.

  He’d seen Fliss stressed before, but never quite like this.

  “Fliss—”

  “You were great back there. I’m glad you arrived when you did. Now go open champagne. Beer. Something.” She turned to walk away, and this time he closed his hand over her shoulder.

  “You’re upset.”

  “And this is how I handle being upset.”

  “I know how you handle being upset. I know better than anyone how you push people away. Talk to me.”

  “You really pick your moments.” There was a flash of anger in her eyes. Anger and something else. Panic? “Jeez, Seth, like I don’t have enough trouble coping with the present, and you choose this moment to bring up the past?”

  “When your past is head-butting your present, I can’t think of a better time to talk about it.”

  “Well, I can.” She stalked past him and he watched for a moment, trying to imagine Harriet wearing denim cutoffs and a tummy-revealing tank.

  “Did you really think I wouldn’t know you?” His words acted like a brake.

  She stopped walking and there was a sudden stillness in the air.

  For a moment he thought she was going to turn and face him, but she didn’t.

  “You never really knew me, Seth.”

  What the hell was that supposed to mean?

  He’d known her better than anyone.

  He opened his mouth to demand an explanation, but she was already walking out of the house, Hero and Charlie at her heels.

  He watched her go, feeling useless.

  * * *

  DAMMIT, WHAT WAS happening to her?

  Her heart was racing, her mind was racing and her thoughts and emotions were a tangled web. There was Matilda, and the baby, and Seth. Always Seth.

  It had been over for ten years, but he was still in her head. She’d never gotten him out of her head.

  And now he knew who she really was, so there was no more pretending.

  She’d have to face him soon, but it didn’t have to be now when she was at her lowest. If they were going to have the conversation he seemed to want, then she needed to be strong, and right now she didn’t feel strong.

  She felt weak and vulnerable and she hated it.

  Although part of her had been relieved to see him, another part of her wished he hadn’t shown up.

  Why now? Why tonight? She could have handled things one at a time, but not altogether.

  Her stomach churned. She felt physically sick.

  She should have gone home, but she knew her grandmother would take one look at her and start asking questions, so instead she headed straight for the beach, Hero and Charlie at her heels.

  Seth was right that she always ran from her emotions. Unfortunately right now it wasn’t working. Whether she walked or ran, moved left or right, her emotions came right along with her.

  There was a hot ball of fire lodged in her throat, and she realized with a lurch of horror that she was going to cry.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried.

  She never cried.

  She had no experience in holding back tears because she’d never had to hold back tears.

  She was afraid if she let them out, they’d choke her, but she couldn’t keep them in. She was going to drown, right here on the beach, not from being out of her depth in seawater but from being out of her depth in misery.

  She brushed at her eyes, furious, telling herself it was sand that was making her eyes water. Sand.

  She couldn’t go back to the cottage like this.

  She needed to pull herself together.

  But how?

  She hadn’t expected to feel this way.

  What was wrong with her?

  If she’d been Harriet she would have been cooing over the baby, admiring tiny fingers and the unexpected shock of dark hair. But she wasn’t Harriet, and she couldn’t handle it. She couldn’t handle all the feelings that holding Matilda’s baby had unleashed. She’d looked down at that tiny bow mouth and those long lashes, at that shock of hair, and she’d felt as if someone had ripped her heart out.

  She heard a strange sound and then realized it had come from her throat.

  The sobs came without her permission, and she sank down on the sand, sheltered by the dunes, and cried so hard it felt as if her chest might split in two.

  She sobbed for everything that might have been and hadn’t been, for the future she’d wanted so badly and lost.

  Drowning in her own misery, she didn’t feel Hero nudging her, worried. But she did feel strong hands lifting her.

  Seth.

  He’d followed her. Well, of course, he’d followed her. He had never known when to stay away.

  He lifted her as if she weighed nothing and pulled her onto his lap.

  She heard the crash of the ocean and the deep, soothing murmur of his voice as he stroked her hair gently and let her cry.

  She wanted to crawl away and hide, but his arms were tight bands of security. And they felt good. He felt warm and strong and comforting, so she stayed there until she’d cried herself out, her hand locked into a fist in the front of his shirt.

  There was a dull ache in her head and her eyes felt swollen. She was relieved it was almost dark. “I’m sorry.”

  He stirred, but he didn’t release her. “What are you sorry for?”

  “For howling on you.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “I never cry. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.”

  “Yes you do.” When she said nothing, he smoothed her hair back from her face. “I know you hide your feelings from the world, but do you hide them from yourself, too?”

  “It was just the stress of it all. Matilda’s baby.”

  There was a long pause, and then she felt his arms tighten around her.

  “We both know this wasn’t about Matilda’s baby.” His voice was soft in the darkness. “It was about ours. Our baby.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SHE LEAPED TO her feet as if she’d been scalded.

  This time he didn’t try to stop her, even though he could happily have gotten used to the feel of her on his lap. For a moment, as he’d felt her relax into him, he’d had a tantalizing glimpse of the possible, but now the barriers were up again. She put a firewall between herself and the world.

  “I can’t believe you’re bringing that up now. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I know. You never do, but this time you’re going to.” He stood, too, determined that this time she wasn’t going to walk away. “You owe me that. You owe me a conversation.” He closed his hands over her shoulders and she tried to shrug him off.

  “We’ve been divorced ten years. I don’t owe you anything. Dammit, Seth, this is my problem. I handle it the way I choose to handle it.”

  He wondered if she even realized that she didn’t really handle difficult things. She buried them.

  “Do you know what the real problem is? The fact that you think it’s your problem. It was my baby, too. The fact that you had a miscarriage was our proble
m, Fliss. Ours. But you refused to share it. You shut me out.”

  She pressed her fingers to her temple. “Well, whoever’s problem it was, it’s in the past so there’s no point in talking about it now. I can’t do this. Don’t push me on it.”

  He knew that this was exactly the right time to push her. If he waited for her to pull herself together again, to regain her strength, she’d do what she always did. Retreat, leaving him on the outside. It was a cold, lonely place, and he was damned if he was going to find himself exiled there again.

  “If it’s in the past, why were you crying yourself dry?”

  “Because I’m tired.”

  “That’s only the second time in my life I’ve seen you cry.” He wondered if she’d remember the first time and saw from the quick look she sent him that she had.

  “I have a lot on my mind right now. I need to think. It would help if you didn’t stand so close.”

  “My standing this close is bothering you?”

  “Yes, it’s bothering me!”

  “I’ll take that as a good sign.”

  “How can it be a good sign?” She shook her head. “Leave me alone.”

  “I did that once before. It was a mistake. Everyone makes them, but I generally try to avoid making the same mistake twice.” And with her he’d made big ones. Huge. He’d thought he was so mature. So experienced. But he hadn’t had the experience or maturity to handle a woman as complex as her.

  Now he did.

  She dug her hands into the pockets of her cutoffs. “It wasn’t a mistake. You did the right thing.” She’d kicked off her shoes and was barefoot, but that didn’t surprise him.

  She’d spent half her summers barefoot, her toes dusted with sand.

  It had taken him a while to figure out that when she came to the Hamptons she wasn’t just throwing off her shoes, she was throwing off her life.

  “No, I didn’t. I did what you wanted me to. Not the same thing. And by the time I realized my mistake I couldn’t get near you. Between your sister and your Rottweiler brother—” He saw alarm flash in her eyes.

  “He doesn’t know about the baby. I never told him.”

  “I figured that out a long time ago. What I had a harder time understanding was why you didn’t tell him.”

  “Because he was already mad at you. If he’d known I was pregnant—”

  “I would have handled it. I would have handled him.”

  She shook her head. “Daniel has always been protective, but back then—”

  “I understand. He’s your big brother. It was his job to stop you being hurt, but once we got involved it was my job, too. I would have protected you.”

  “I didn’t want that. I ruined your life, Seth. You should hate me.”

  He couldn’t have been more shocked.

  “This is the reason you’ve been avoiding me? Because you think you ruined my life?”

  “Partly.”

  “Do I look ruined to you?”

  Her gaze met his. “No.”

  “Because I’m not. I’m older and wiser, I hope. But not ruined.” He could hear the rapid snatch of her breath above the rolling crash of the waves.

  “Do you ever wish—” She stopped, that tantalizing half sentence hovering in the air between them, leaving him wondering what the other half would have been.

  Over the past ten years he’d wished a thousand things. He’d wished their relationship hadn’t been so intense, that they’d met later when they were both ready for it, that he’d thought less about his own pain and more about hers. Most of all he’d wished he hadn’t let her walk out of his life.

  Regret was a solid ache behind his ribs.

  “Do I ever wish—?”

  “Nothing. Forget it. I have to go. Grams will be wondering where I am.”

  He could see the faint trace of tears on her cheeks and the outline of her mouth.

  He knew how that mouth would feel under his. How it would taste.

  But he wasn’t going there.

  Not yet.

  Last time they’d done everything the wrong way. Passion had overwhelmed everything. Next time he was determined it was going to be different.

  And there was going to be a next time.

  “Does your grandmother know you’re Fliss?”

  “Are you kidding? Who do you think made the cookies?”

  He was relieved to see her sense of humor flicker back to life, and he smiled in the darkness. “I’ll take you home.”

  “I have a Doberman. I don’t need an escort.”

  He ignored that. “I’m taking you home, and I won’t follow you in on one condition—”

  “What?”

  “You have dinner with me tomorrow and we talk properly then.”

  “Last time I shared a meal with you I ended up baking cookies.”

  “I’m not talking about dinner in a restaurant. I’m talking about christening my new kitchen.”

  “You’re moving in?”

  They’d arrived back at his car, and she slid into the passenger seat.

  “I’m sleeping there tonight. On the floor.”

  “If my memory serves me rightly, you have about ten bedrooms at your parents’ house. You don’t need to sleep on the floor.”

  He almost told her then. Told her how it felt being in the house knowing his father was never going to walk through the door again.

  Instead he focused on driving, negotiating the darkened lanes that led to her grandmother’s house.

  He pulled up outside. Lights were burning in the downstairs windows, and he thought about the times he’d lurked by the gate at the back of the house, waiting for Fliss. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “Does seven thirty work for you?”

  “I’m not cooking for you, Carlyle. And if you value your health, you won’t push it.”

  “I’ll do the cooking.”

  “I have to babysit Grams.” There was a desperate note to her voice, as if she knew she was running out of excuses.

  “That’s why I suggested seven thirty. Gives you time to settle her down.”

  “She might need me.”

  “You’ll be on the end of a phone.”

  She unfastened her seat belt. “You don’t give up, do you?”

  Once, but not anymore.

  This time he wasn’t giving up until he got what he wanted.

  And now, after months, maybe even years, of wondering, he knew what that was.

  “Seven thirty. I’ll cook.”

  * * *

  THE PHONE WOKE her and she fumbled for it, knocking a book onto the floor.

  There was a whimper from the bed, and Charlie scrabbled to his feet and licked her face.

  He’d followed her up to the bedroom when she’d arrived home, and hovered there, as if he sensed something different about her and was afraid of leaving her alone.

  And she’d discovered she didn’t want to be on her own. So she’d pulled Charlie onto the bed and slept with her arms wrapped around his solid body, comforted by his warmth and his presence. Only with animals had she ever felt able to truly relax her guard. Hero had slept across the door, apparently determined to live up to his name.

  She stroked Charlie’s silky fur with one hand and checked the caller ID with the other.

  Harriet.

  “What time do you call this?”

  “Six in the morning. Did I wake you? You’re usually up by now.”

  “Is everything all right?” Fliss rubbed her eyes, suddenly worried about her sister. “Is there a problem?” Her head throbbed from crying.

  “Not with me. I heard the news! Matilda called me. You’re a heroine.”

  “She called you?” Fliss groped on the nightstand for painkillers. If this was how a heroine felt, she didn’t want to repeat the experience in a hurry. “How is she?”

  “Doing well, thanks to you.”

  “I didn’t do a thing.”

  “That wasn’t how she tells it.”

  “I was jus
t in the right place at the right time.” Or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending how you looked at it. She swallowed the pills along with a glass of water.

  “She said Seth was there, too. And that she blew your identity. She’s feeling guilty and worried about you.”

  “No need.” She put the empty glass down. “Turns out Seth knew who I was all along.”

  “Really? So why didn’t he say anything?”

  “He was waiting for me to tell him.”

  “Did you talk?”

  No, I sobbed myself dry on his shoulder. “We exchanged a few words.”

  “That’s it?”

  Fliss sighed and forced herself out of bed. Still holding the phone, she padded into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror.

  “Jeez. I can’t believe I look this bad when I didn’t even have a drink. There is no justice.” She still had streaks of mascara under her eyes, and her hair looked as if she’d dived headfirst into a bush. “I’m all dressed for Halloween, and it isn’t even July.”

  “Are you avoiding my question?”

  Fliss scrubbed at the smears of black under her eyes. “I don’t even remember your question. That’s how bad I feel.”

  “I want to know about Seth. And I want to know how you are. It must have been difficult for you.”

  “No.” She might have stood more chance of convincing her sister if Charlie hadn’t picked that moment to bark.

  “Who is that?”

  “It’s Charlie. Who else would it be?”

  “What’s he doing in the bedroom? You barely tolerate Charlie.”

  Fliss thought back to the night before, remembering how she’d lifted the dog onto the bed and held him on her lap until he’d settled down. “He was hard to shake off, and I was too tired to fight it.”

  “That doesn’t sound like you. Are you upset?”

  “As long as he doesn’t howl, I’m fine.”

  “I’m not talking about Charlie, I’m talking about the baby. That must have been tough. Are you doing okay? Talk to me.”

  “Nothing to talk about. The baby is fine, I’m fine, Seth’s fine. Everyone is fine.” Fliss stared into the mirror, relieved her sister couldn’t see her. Her face still looked a little puffy.

  This, she thought, is what a liar looks like.

  “You know I’m here if you need to talk to someone.”