The Monroe Series Complete Trilogy

by Emma Tharp

  We’re in the car, following James and Kitty to a restaurant on the lake.

  "You should've told them that we don't get to spend much time together and you'd see him at the office next week, but thanks for the offer," Dean says. His tone has more of an edge than it normally does. The tight set of his features tell me he's barely hanging on to his composure.

  Mine is already gone. "You could've said no!" I growl.

  "How? How could I do that? It's your job!" It happened. Dean finally lost his cool.

  The contents of my stomach churn. I barely ate anything today. All I've had are a few mimosas.

  This trip is going downhill fast. I pick up the phone and scroll through my contacts to find James's number.

  "Of course, you have his personal cell number," Dean mutters under his breath, but I hear every word.

  I glance over at him but he won't look back at me. This is our first official fight. We've never had a reason to before. Which brings me back to why it wouldn't be a good idea to combine our lives beyond one week a year. It was abundantly clear today that they just don’t mix.

  Dean's jaw is clenched tight as well as his hand on the wheel.

  "We work together. It doesn't mean that I ever use it,” I sigh. He's obviously jealous. It doesn't make sense. James is a coworker—a much older coworker, I might add. I'm not attracted to him. But I have a great deal of respect for him and a good professional relationship. I hope that didn't translate into something more in Dean's eyes. "I don't know why you're so mad. I'm cancelling, okay? I'm telling him I'll see him in the office next week."

  Clicking James's contact info, I keep the phone on Bluetooth so Dean can hear every word. No need to upset him anymore than he already is.

  The call is quick and easy, although James and Kitty do sound disappointed that we wouldn't be joining them this evening. By the time the discussion is over, we're back at the lake house.

  Dean storms into the house, but I'm not ready to deal with the incoming argument yet so I make my way to the end of the dock to pout. This wasn't how our vacation was supposed to go.

  The beauty of our relationship is that we don't have entanglements or attachments or expectations. That's why we never argue. And now, all that has changed. Is it me? Did I give him the wrong impression?

  When we’re together, things do get passionate. When I'm with him, I don't hold back. There's no time. Maybe he read that to mean something more. I flex my hands in my hair and rest my elbows on my knees, trying to pinpoint the moment where our signals could have been crossed. Nothing specific comes to mind. This vacation has been like all of the others before it.

  The last thing I want is for this to end. I value this, value him. But we made rules when this all got started. Rules that I’ve followed to a T. We get one week together a year—no strings attached.

  Even without strings, I do care about him and don’t like to see him hurting. It’s time to go inside and figure this out. Standing, I turn toward the house, ready to talk to him, only to find him making his way down to the dock to me.

  "Can we talk?" His voice is quiet and he looks up at me with those beautiful teal eyes.

  I nod. "Inside?" He knows as well as I do that voices carry on the water.

  He motions for me to go first. Ever the gentleman.

  Once inside, he shuts the door behind us. I turn and before I can say a word, he starts talking.

  "I'm sorry, Giselle."

  I shake my head, tears threatening to fall. "I'm sorry, too. I don't know where this all went wrong."

  He steps closer and lays his hands on my cheeks. "I do. I fell in love with you. I broke all the rules."

  Sixteen

  Dean

  Aghast. Completely and utterly aghast. That's how Giselle looks right now. Filled with horror and shock after I admitted that I love her.

  Not how I saw this going.

  "I didn't mean to," I tell her. Even I can hear the defeat and bitterness in my voice. "This wasn't the plan, and despite popular belief…I plan." I shake my head, waiting for her to say something. Only she doesn't and I know exactly why. My heart feels heavy in my chest because she doesn't love me back. This is completely one-sided and I've only made things more awkward by letting her in on the depths of my feelings.

  Giselle's jaw hangs open as if she still can't believe what I've said. It kills me that this comes as such a surprise to her. I have been doing my best to show her all week how much she means to me.

  This might be it. Like a dark cloud crowding out the sun, I've gone and pushed her away. And now, I can feel it all coming to an end.

  She still hasn't said a word, but now her eyes fill with glassy tears—none actually fall. She knows it, too. She sniffs and swipes at her eyes, then she puts her game face on. I can almost imagine that this is how she looks in the courtroom, minus the tears. This is personal.

  "Forget I said anything. We can just…let it go." I do my best to make my tone light and jovial, even ending my phrasing with the song. I hope to make her smile, but she doesn't.

  "I think we need some space for tonight," she says, looking down at her hands. "Things have gotten way too intense too quickly." She takes a step closer to me and even though her words sting and I want to back away, I don’t.

  “Right.” I nod. I’ll agree to anything as long as I can hold on to her a while longer.

  “You know we don’t fit, right?” She shakes her head and sighs. “I live in the city. You live in the mountains of Vermont. You like to spend all your free time outdoors, and I prefer to work.” Standing up straighter, it’s clear she’s determined to make a case. Lay it all out so I can see it and properly judge the situation. She’s obviously incredibly good at what she does. “I see this all day, every day. Couples who got married thinking love was enough, who never considered that they had nothing to build a life on. I won’t make that mistake.” She shakes her head again, harder this time.

  I think she’s trying to break it off completely now. I can feel it in my gut. She’s going to make it so that we never see each other again. She’s convincing herself that we need to stop our week of passion every summer. My heart feels like it’s going to shatter. I’ve never been in such pain before.

  In all my years, my heart’s never really been involved in my dating situations. Until now. I shake my head because I can’t let her do this. “No. Tonight we’ll give each other space. Tomorrow, we’ll regroup. We’ll get through this. I’ll get over it.”

  She looks doubtful. I nod a few times for emphasis. “I will. We have just a few more days together and then I’ll have a year to recover before I see you again.”

  Giselle actually winces. Dammit.

  “I’ll take the dock. I’ve proven I can sleep there.”

  Like hell I’ll let her sleep outside again. “You take the house. You paid for it. I’ll take the dock.”

  She tilts her head. “There’s a guest cottage. Take that.”

  Not the answer I hoped for, but it’s better than sleeping on wood. It would’ve been nice if she had offered me one of the other bedrooms in this house, but she clearly needs her space. I nod and walk over to her, kiss her forehead, and tell her I’ll see her in the morning.

  On the way to the cottage, it feels like a strange walk of shame. It’s not like anyone can see me, but it’s still humbling. Once inside, all I can do is pace. It’s a small, fancy cottage. There’s a huge king-sized bed. Because it’s behind the main house, there’s an unobstructed view of the lake.

  I watch as the lights go out in the main house one by one. She must’ve finally given up and passed out. That’s when I’m finally able to relax. And since I’m trying desperately to figure out what I can do to fit in Giselle’s life, I finally drop into the bed before dawn.

  When I wake at nine in the morning, after what amounted to a long nap, I realize my mistake. My stomach sinks like I just swallowed a rock. Giselle wasn’t turning off the lights to go to bed. I think she was packing up, and shutting dow
n the house.

  I run toward the house, my bare feet pounding on the grass, to check on her. Stomping from room to room, I feel like I could be sick. The place is empty of all of her things and there’s a letter on the counter for me.

  The place is yours for the next three days. Please don’t call me, I need time to think. Thank you.

  I don’t know why she said all that about thinking. She’s already made up her mind. The way my phone goes straight to voice mail, I know I’ve been blocked.

  Seventeen

  Giselle

  I panicked. I can admit that. Because when was the last time someone told me they loved me besides someone in my family? It’s been a very, very long time.

  Earlier, I hadn’t been able to see my future, but in that moment, when he told me he loved me, I could.

  It was terrifying.

  Dean was my house-husband. I could see him sitting around in his sweats with tousled hair, caring for our child. The house would look like a tornado went through it every day. He's irresponsible and hates the city. He complains about me being gone ten to twelve hours a day. We fight. All the time. I can see it all so clearly, and feel it so deeply. And then I knew what I had to do. I had to avoid it at all costs, and that's when I realized it was time to go.

  So, I wrote the note. And then, because I knew he wouldn't listen to me, I blocked his number.

  Driving away in the middle of the night, I try to pretend that this is the right thing to do, the smart decision. I blare the music all the way home to drown out my thoughts and to keep me awake. With every passing mile, I miss him, but I know it’s the only way. By the time I reach the city, I have a sinking feeling in my heart because I know that what I did was the cowardly thing to do, but it’s done.

  It's ten in the morning when I pull into the parking garage. I grab my suitcase and take the elevator to my apartment. I made incredible time, but felt every second of the growing distance between us. My chest starts to ache.

  Leaving my suitcase in the bedroom, I don't unpack it because I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I still have days left of my vacation.

  Instead, I go to the couch. The fatigue of the long drive pulls me under.

  Waking up, I rub my eyes and I'm startled when I see the setting sun out the window. I slept the day away. Guess I really needed the sleep.

  The rest does me good and I feel a little better. The stiffness in my neck and shoulders from the ride home has subsided. I take a long, hot shower and brew myself a cup of coffee. Sitting in my dark apartment, I stare out over the city lights trying to decide if I should go back. I'm so conflicted. My heart doesn't know what it wants and I’m terrible at dealing with my feelings. I don’t know what makes sense or how to make it right between Dean and me.

  Checking my phone, he's only called once. He is smart. Maybe he was even okay with me leaving and is in recovery mode. I try to picture him at the lake house alone. Maybe he took the boat out today and went swimming by himself. I can see him watching the sunset alone and I want to be there with him.

  Remembering our conversation about Dean’s skiing accident, it’s hard to deny the fact that I was deeply affected by the thought of losing him. That has to mean something. I inhale deeply and know that in the morning, I'll return to Dean. I’m not up for another overnight drive, but maybe, tomorrow, I can salvage this.

  In the morning light, when the sun shines through my windows, I decide that I'm not going to drive back. I dreamed of Dean telling me to stay away from him—he wouldn’t even let me explain. Doubt creeps its ugly head in and I'm sure Dean has left anyway. He wouldn't stay by himself.

  I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. What if, in an effort to get over me, he already found someone else? What if I drove all that way only to find him in what had been our bed…with another woman? My empty stomach turns as I picture it. Bile starts to rise up the back of my throat and I rush to the bathroom to be sick.

  After, I sit on the cool tile floor and allow myself to do something I rarely do—cry.

  I think I love Dean. How could I not? He’s caring, thoughtful, and he treats me like a queen. And I’ve been rigid in my compartmentalization of our one week a summer relationship. Because, of course I could see him on three-day weekends. And we could Skype each other and make more of an effort. But, would that be enough to sustain a relationship? I’m not sure, but I’m willing to try.

  I hope I didn’t ruin everything. What have I done? And the better question is how the hell am I going to fix it? There has to be a way, but I don’t know what it is.

  Picking up my phone, I dial Garrett’s number.

  “Giselle. How are you?” His voice is jovial. It should be, the man just got married.

  “I’m okay. How was the rest of your honeymoon?” I ask.

  “It was fabulous. Wait. Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation with Dean?”

  A little sob bubbles up the back of my throat. “Yes. I panicked and left him.”

  “Oh, shit. What happened?”

  “He told me that he loved me.”

  “Okay. And that’s a bad thing?” He’s confused. I understand why. I’m not making any sense.

  I get a tissue and blow my nose before going into the story. “Dean is a wonderful man, but we are two very different people. I think he’d like our relationship to be more than a casual once-a-year thing, but I can’t figure out how that would work. I’ve never felt this awful before.”

  “It sounds like you’re heartbroken.”

  Huh. Is that what it feels like? An empty hollow space in my chest that I know will only be whole again if I have Dean in my life. “I don’t know. I mean…yeah. You’re probably right. He’s the best man I know and he cares for me. He told me he loves me and I think I might love him, too. How am I going to fix this?” Because I really want to make things better between us.

  He sighs into the phone. “You are a very smart woman. I know you can make it work with Dean. Take some time to focus on your relationship, like you would a case at work, and figure it out.”

  A smile spreads across my lips. My brother is a genius. “That’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Good. But don’t waste too much time. You don’t want him to slip through your fingers.”

  “Got it. Thanks, Garrett.”

  “You bet. Keep me posted on your progress.”

  I hang up the phone and sit at my desk. Pulling out a pad of paper and pen, I ready myself to work through this because I’m not willing to give up on Dean and our relationship.

  Eighteen

  Dean

  I'd be lying if I said Giselle didn't crush my heart into a million pieces. She hurt me when she walked out on us. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt pain like that before. And it's impossible to know what to do, so I stay the three days we’re supposed to be together.

  For some reason, I have hope that she might come to her senses and come back to me.

  For the Fourth of July, I sit on the dock and watch the fireworks across the lake. They’re nice, but my arms ache to be around Giselle.

  I cook all the food in the lake house so it won’t go to waste, and it makes me miss her more. If I cooked, she’d clean up, and vice versa. I miss the way she likes to sing off-key as she does dishes, and I long to move her hair off her shoulder and kiss the sensitive skin of her neck. It’s as if every corner of this house holds a memory of the two of us and it’s hard not to think about her constantly, wishing that things played out differently. How could I have changed the outcome? I wouldn’t take back telling her that I love her, because it’s real and she needed to hear it. But I can’t dwell on the what-ifs. Instead, I try to use my time wisely, as an opportunity to plan for the future. Sulking around is going to get me nowhere.

  Our last conversation has been on replay in my head. She didn't tell me that she loved me, but she also didn't say she didn't. What she did say was that she didn't see how we could build a life together. The way I see it is that if she didn't love me, she would'v
e stayed. She left because she loves me and didn’t want to hurt me by stringing me along. I have to believe it. It's the only thing that makes sense.

  Instead of dwelling on how empty and torn up I feel, I work on what I can do now. What can I do to change my life and my plans so they fit with hers? I have to try and figure out what else I can do with my life to earn money and live where I want and to follow my passion for the outdoors and travel.

  Pulling out my phone, I do an online search and find something interesting when I look up travel. There are companies that set up tours, do all the planning, collect all the money, and go on the trip.

  A giant, thousand-watt light bulb goes off in my head and my mind starts racing with possibilities. It’s a genius idea. This is something I can do. I have traveled to many places. Not always fancy, but with Giselle, we've tried new things. And with other people's money, I can really make it a good time. I make a list of places I've been, things I've seen, and where I still want to go. Spending the hours of the day, I research like crazy. By the end of my vacation, after days of being alone without distractions, willing to do anything to stop missing Giselle, Snow & Sun Tours is born.

  By the time I return to Vermont, I am up and running. I build a website and file the paperwork. It doesn't take much time when you're laser-focused on a goal. I did it. Every bit of it. I have learned things I never thought I'd have a reason to learn. And the next thing I know, I have a business and it's working. One or two tours per month to start, and one week long each. Business travel or personal.

  Giselle tries to call me, but I let it go to voice mail. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. She left a message, but I don’t play it. Instead, I focus on building my business. I can’t get sidetracked.

  My first tour is the last week of July, the Caribbean by cruise ship. The travel planning came naturally to me and I credit that to Giselle. By the end of August, I've made more money in a month than I have the previous seven months combined and I feel it, I'm on to something.