Return to Me (Blue Harbor Book 5)

by Olivia Miles

  Had Kyle not mentioned she was back? She felt a flicker of something far too close to disappointment. Why should she care that Kyle didn’t bother to mention this to his brother? There was no reason for Kyle to talk about her, right?

  The grin on Ryan’s face caused Kyle to turn and look distractedly over his shoulder. His frown lifted for a hint of a second, so quickly that it wasn’t entirely noticeable, but she noticed. She knew him so well.

  “Well, well. Brooke Conway. Is that really you?” Ryan’s voice boomed loud enough for a few of the guys at the table near the window to shift their eyes from the television screen for a moment. “I almost didn’t notice you in that fancy outfit.”

  Brooke looked down at her navy linen sheath dress and heeled sandals. “I’m simply dressed for work. I own a boutique down the street.”

  “You don’t say!” Ryan’s look was accusatory when it fell on Kyle, who ignored it. “What kind of boutique?”

  Brooke lifted her chin a notch and braced herself for it. “I’m a wedding dress designer.”

  There was a split-second pause where she wasn’t sure if Ryan might laugh. “A wedding dress designer. Well. Isn’t that…”

  “Wonderful,” Kyle cut in, shooting his brother a dirty look. He shifted his gaze back to Brooke, locking it there. “It’s really wonderful.”

  Brooke stared back at him, overwhelmed with sudden emotion at the tenderness in his eyes and the sincerity in his tone, her heart weighing heavy with the creeping sense of guilt and confusion that always happened when she thought about Kyle. Now, standing in front of him, it was impossible not to see the same kind blue eyes that had looked so deeply into hers when he’d gotten down on one knee, and later, when he’d stood at the altar, watching her walk down the aisle, and then, took her hand.

  She closed her eyes against the memory, against his gaze. When she opened them, he turned away, busied himself drying glasses.

  “You have a few minutes to talk?” She darted a look at Ryan, who seemed to show no intention of leaving.

  Kyle jutted his chin at his brother. “Take ten.”

  Ryan slid another glance at Brooke before he left. A warning glance, if she didn’t know better.

  “Sorry about him,” Kyle said, once Ryan had disappeared into the kitchen.

  She gave a small smile, finding strange comfort in being alone with him. “I can come back later if this is a bad time.”

  “It’s fine,” Kyle said. He held up a bottle of chilled white wine—Conway brand, her name across the label per the family tradition that her father and Dennis had set in place years back, naming each new blend after one of their daughters.

  She was touched that he would stock her namesake wine. Confused, too. But she wouldn’t read into it. Most restaurants and bars in town stocked Conway wine, of course. People in Blue Harbor liked to support each other.

  She hoped that extended to Kyle.

  “Can I offer you something?”

  She shook her head, refusing the drink, even though she could really use something to calm her pounding heart and take away her nerves right now. Was it so strange to be asking for a divorce, now, after all this time?

  It was. Because for whatever reason, and one she couldn’t even explain to herself, she hadn’t asked for one earlier.

  And neither had he.

  There was no reason to hesitate, she knew. She had the loan to think about. Her long list of items to scratch off her business plan if she ever intended to grow it and make a success. She’d never get it approved if her credit was still tied to this pub, for starters. And nothing was keeping her connected to Kyle anymore but a piece of paper. What was another piece of paper at this point?

  “I have to get back to work soon, so, I’m good.”

  He set down the wine with a shrug. “Maybe another time.”

  She narrowed her gaze. Nope, not reading into that either. Besides, maybe it was good that he was keeping things so friendly. It showed that there were no hard feelings.

  “So…a wedding dress shop?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Does that surprise you?” she asked, noticing the defensive edge creeping into her tone. She braced herself for it, knowing that it would come.

  “I seem to remember a girl who didn’t want to design clothing for commercial gain, but for the art.”

  Maybe he was teasing her, but she’d learned over the years that there was a hint of truth in every joke, and Kyle was speaking the cold hard facts. She had taken on a job as a designer for a major brand, where her creativity was stifled, and the only gain was in the form of a paycheck that paid the rent each month with a little left over on the side for her new dream.

  Because thanks to Kyle, she’d had to shift the idea of her future. Make it one without him in it.

  “And I remember a guy who wanted to design custom furniture,” she replied, immediately regretting her words when she saw the way he pulled back, all hint of amusement now gone from his face. She softened her tone. “Do you still make furniture?”

  “Who has the time?” He shrugged, evading her eyes. “I’m a bar owner now.”

  Brooke closed her mouth, feeling a wave of disappointment that she had no claim to. Kyle had been a skilled carpenter. He was creative and passionate and detail-oriented. He’d dreamed of opening a showroom, making one-of-a-kind pieces with his two hands and his whole heart.

  But that had been his dream, not hers. Even if she’d shared it. Once.

  He set both hands on the bar and leaned forward. “I get the impression there’s something you need to say.”

  She resisted the urge to take a step back, to put physical distance between herself and Kyle. It had worked so well all this time. Eventually, those deep-set eyes and that crooked smile had faded from her mind. But now, he was right in front of her. And damn it if he wasn’t making all of this much more difficult than it should be.

  “I’m going to be applying for a business loan soon,” she explained, even though there was no reason to bother with personal details. “And, well, I think it’s time that we make our relationship status official.”

  There was a beat of silence. “You want a divorce?”

  She glanced around, but none of the day drinkers were listening and the television was loud.

  “I think it’s time,” she said simply. When he didn’t respond right away, she added, “Don’t you?”

  Kyle pulled in a breath and stepped back from the bar. “And here I thought you might want to catch up.”

  She froze for a second, until she saw his mouth quirk into a smile. “It’s been a long time, Kyle,” she said softly.

  His eyes lingered on her. “It has been, Bee.”

  Bee. That had been his nickname for her, all those years ago, and not just because it was the initial of her first name. She’d loved bumblebees, even as a kid when her sisters would run from them, squealing. He used to tell her that was a trait that he’d admired in her. That she wasn’t scared. That she didn’t let a little insect stop her from picking a flower she wanted.

  That she didn’t let anything stand in her way.

  Could he say the same now, after what happened between them?

  She knew she couldn’t.

  *

  Kyle knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Brooke wanted a divorce. Considering it had been almost six years since she’d packed her bags and left the home they’d shared, and then, days later, Blue Harbor, he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Eventually, he might have asked for one too, assumed he would, that he’d have to ask Gabby or Jenna for her contact information, track her down. He assumed someday he’d move on with his life. When the time came, he’d deal with it.

  He just hadn’t expected that time to be now. Because he hadn’t moved on, but rather stayed in one place, doing the same thing, day after day, not thinking about the future. And seeing Brooke again only stirred up everything they’d once had, rather than what they’d lost.

  From the pinch of her mouth, he assumed that she di
dn’t feel the same way.

  She cleared her throat and looked away. “I need to get back to my shop soon.”

  He didn’t try to disguise his disappointment. “So you’ve filed then?”

  “Not yet,” she said slowly. “I thought it was better to speak to you first. We owe it to each other.”

  His heart began to pick up speed, and he did his best to keep his expression relaxed. Her face was impossible to read, but two things were certain: she wanted a divorce. And she hadn’t sought one out before today. He didn’t want to push things by asking why she had waited so long when he didn’t have a good answer himself. He chose instead to focus on the information at hand, and where that left him. Where that left them.

  “How soon do you want to apply for this loan?” he asked, keeping his voice conversational.

  She looked surprised at the question. “Soon,” she said, licking her bottom lip. She was nervous. She’d had that tick for as long as he’d known her, which was basically his entire life.

  He nodded, considering his options. He hadn’t thought about Brooke in a while, not properly at least. At first, she was all he thought about, but the pub soon consumed his waking hours, and he’d learned to get through the days on his own. In the back of his mind, he knew that she was always out there, sure. That she was his wife, in the legal sense of the word.

  But seeing her now, separated by only a two-foot-wide bar of polished wood, all he could think of was that she was his wife. His sweet, creative, beautiful wife. The woman who made him laugh. The woman who had made him love. And he wasn’t ready to let that go so easily the second time around.

  The blond hair that once splayed on the pillow beside him was close enough to reach out and stroke; the blue eyes that would crinkle when she smiled now stared at him with a strange detachment.

  “It will take a while for the paperwork to process, but…I don’t want anything.”

  Old hurts stirred up. “No, you never did.”

  Brooke sucked in a breath and released it slowly. She lowered her eyes. She waited.

  Finally, Kyle said the only reasonable thing there was to say. “I’ll sign. I’ll make it straightforward.”

  She nodded, her gaze still fixated on her hands, which were resting on the bar. Her rings were gone, of course. He’d kept them in his bedside drawer, ever since she’d left them on the dresser that last morning they were together.

  “On one condition,” he said, seeing his chance. His last one, by the looks of it.

  Her eyes shot up to him warily. “What condition?”

  He hesitated, wondering if he could really go through with it. He had nothing to lose…but everything.

  “We spend a little time together first.”

  “A little time together?” She pursed her lips together and sighed. “Kyle, what’s done is done. Why make this any more difficult than it needs to be?”

  Interesting, he thought, narrowing his eyes on her. Or maybe, that was wishful thinking. But if there was a chance in hell that Brooke still had any feelings left for him, now was the time to find out.

  He’d let her slip away once before. He’d be damned if he let it happen twice.

  5

  Brooke boiled the entire walk back to the shop, pounding the pavement so hard, she was surprised she hadn’t broken a heel on her designer (albeit sample sale) shoes.

  Spend time together? What was Kyle thinking? They hadn’t spent time together in almost six years, and the last few days of their relationship were nothing to hold onto—if anything, they were something to forget.

  They’d been arguing. A lot. Brooke had been given the opportunity of a lifetime—a job for a well-known designer, in New York City. It was an entry-level position, but it sure beat the women’s boutique on Main Street. It was her chance.

  It was supposed to be their chance. That had been the plan, hadn’t it? They’d go to New York or Los Angeles or even Chicago—together. Two creative minds determined to make their mark. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was exciting. He’d get a day job while he built up a following for his furniture, shopping his designs at trendy boutiques. They’d go to gallery openings and charity events to network; they’d host dinner parties right on the hand-carved table that Kyle had honed as a wedding gift to her. They’d be a partnership. A team.

  Only when the time came to go, Kyle changed course.

  They’d fought. They’d argued. Neither one of them had backed down.

  Brooke had eventually left. And Kyle didn’t come after her.

  She’d waited. Kept the phone on, checked for messages even when her screen was blank. She’d resisted the urge to call, knowing that she’d only be repeating what she’d already said. That this was her dream. His dream. Their dream. That they were married. That they were supposed to be starting a life together.

  That he wasn’t supposed to lock himself into a life in Blue Harbor out of guilt or obligation. That she didn’t want this for him.

  That his father wouldn’t have, either.

  But those were words she’d held back, knowing that they’d cut too deep, too soon after his father’s fatal heart attack.

  Kyle was doing what he needed to do. And she, she was doing what she needed to do. Eventually, she stopped checking her phone. Stopped hoping for a message. Stopped believing that he would come to his senses, or miss her.

  And eventually, she’d moved on with her new life, alone.

  No, Brooke thought, as she finished out her first day at the shop, one eye on the window and the other on her spreadsheets, where she was business planning four seasons out, putting her into next spring. No, there was nothing good that could come from spending time with Kyle.

  Well, other than getting him to agree to a quick and straightforward divorce.

  *

  By Friday afternoon, Brooke was almost hoping to see Kyle, if only to get things finished once and for all. If he didn’t stop by soon, she’d have to hunt him down, repeat her request, or take matters into her own hands and consult an attorney to draw up the paperwork on her terms. It was an option, but it wasn’t the one she wanted to take. She didn’t want to engage in petty arguments or try to get a cut of anything. She just wanted to make their lives officially separate. To do what she’d been doing for six years for the rest of her life. Build her career. Focus on her routine.

  Make a plan she could stick to and count on.

  She sucked in a breath as a customer swept out of the dressing room, her eyes shining and her smile radiant as she admired herself in the three-way gilded mirror. It was one of Brooke’s newer designs, one she had created with spring on the mind, in an off-white lace with spaghetti straps and an A-line skirt. The bodice was her favorite part of the dress, with a dramatic deep V-neck cut that highlighted the collarbone. It fit the customer perfectly.

  “Spring brides are the prettiest brides,” the bride’s mother clucked from the corner.

  Brooke opened her mouth to chime in that she had once been a late spring bride too, but fortunately she realized her error before she had a chance to dampen what was turning out to be a very pleasant ending to her work week.

  “This dress fits you as if it were custom made for you,” Brooke said. “How do you feel in it?”

  The bride sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly. In the mirror, she met Brooke’s eye. “Like it was made for me. It’s the one!”

  Brooke managed not to show her excitement—or her surprise—by smiling serenely and saying, “Perfect.”

  Because it was perfect. Not just the dress, but the fact that she had managed to sell one of her off-the-rack gowns in her opening week, and she had commissioned two others—Candy’s, and a lovely childhood friend of Jenna’s who wasn’t getting married until next winter, leaving Brooke with plenty of time to come up with some cold-weather concepts.

  She moved back to her desk quickly to write up the invoice while the bride changed out of the gown.

  “We’ll keep the dress here in the back room until you
r big day,” she explained. “And of course we’ll schedule your fittings closer to the date. Do you live in the area? I feel like I should know everyone, but then, I’ve been away for a while.”

  The bride shook her head. “Pine Falls.”

  The next town over. Brooke was quietly pleased to see that she was already drawing business beyond the border of Blue Harbor. With any luck, word would soon spread.

  “Do you have anything for bridesmaids?” the bride asked hopefully.

  Brooke hesitated. She didn’t want to spread herself too thin from the onset, but expanding to bridesmaid dresses was part of her long-term plan.

  “By special order,” she said, seeing an opportunity to add some extra pages to her lookbook which sat on the marble coffee table for brides to flip through in their design meetings. She felt a little shaky going off-plan like this, but she also knew that this type of request could push her out of her comfort zone and help her to achieve her goals sooner.

  “I have a few ideas in mind. Could I stop by next week and show you some magazine clippings?”

  Brooke set up the appointment in her calendar, accepted the deposit for the dress, and managed not to do a little victory dance until the door was closed behind the blushing bride and her proud mother.

  She only managed to stop once she heard the jingling of the door opening behind her, and she turned to see Kyle grinning back at her. From the gleam in his eyes, there was no doubt he’d witnessed that little performance. She supposed she should be thankful that it wasn’t a potential customer, but she couldn’t fight the flush from heating her cheeks.

  “Practicing your dance moves?” he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

  “Very funny,” she said drolly. Still, she wasn’t going to let Kyle ruin her good mood, even if she was a little curious, and worried, about his motive for being here, whereas her motives had been laid out, crystal clear.

  “Actually,” she said, “I was celebrating. I sold a dress off the rack today, and I was also asked to come up with some designs for the bridesmaids.”

  Kyle looked dutifully impressed. “This calls for a celebration.”