Falling for the Innkeeper

by Meghann Whistler

  “Am I crazy? I’m crazy, aren’t I?”

  “No, honey, you’re happy. That’s a good thing.”

  Odd—she’d felt happy earlier, but now she just felt anxious, thinking of how he’d wanted to take her and Emma to Boston. “You’re the one who told me he could be an ax murderer!” she exclaimed.

  “He came to church with you, sister,” Chloe said gently. “I think I could be persuaded to change my opinion of him if you decide to keep him around.”

  “It’s too fast, though, isn’t it? I’m rushing into this just like I rushed into things with Conrad. And I’ve got Emma to think about now. I can’t just start introducing her to strange men.”

  “Slow down there, cowgirl. First of all, Jonathan’s already been here for a week and Emma loves him—he’s hardly a stranger. Secondly, this Conrad stuff is baloney. You have to stop holding him up as the man against whom everyone else is measured.”

  The more Laura talked, though, the more she felt sure that things were moving too fast, spiraling out of control. “I just can’t help thinking that Jonathan’ll be the same. Comes on strong in the beginning, but then his true colors will start to emerge.”

  “Look, sweetie, I know Conrad did a number on you, but that’s, like, hard-core cynical.”

  Laura bit her lip. Was it cynical—or realistic? Because, as all Jonathan’s talk of Boston had reminded her, he was definitely leaving. He had the documents he needed. First he would leave, and then he’d take the inn away.

  * * *

  Jonathan watched Emma pat the therapy dog—a golden retriever in a navy blue vest—in the back garden of the Museum of Natural History, her little face ecstatic. The museum itself was small, but the garden out back was nicely landscaped, the butterfly house was a hit with Emma, and the nature trail behind it all was undeniably cool. He put his arm around Laura’s shoulders, but once again, as she’d been doing all morning, she slipped away.

  “Ever think about getting a dog?” he asked.

  She tilted her head thoughtfully to the side. “She’d love it, wouldn’t she?”

  He could picture it so clearly. The woman, the girl, the dog, the beach. Throwing a stick into the ocean, the dog coming back to them happy and panting, spraying them all with water, dropping the stick at his feet. “She’d make you buy all kinds of little dog sweaters and shoes.”

  Laura looked up at him. “Did you really have a Chihuahua growing up?”

  “My sister had a Chihuahua,” he insisted. “It was my sister’s dog.”

  “Uh-huh.” She grinned at him. “Did you carry him around in a little purse?”

  “She was a girl dog. And yeah, Charlotte had a purse for her. And a tutu. And sweaters. And an Easter outfit with bunny ears.”

  “Bunny ears?”

  “Bunny ears. It was hilarious. We wanted to take a family picture with her, but she couldn’t stand the ears and kind of went crazy trying to get them off.”

  Laura gave a breathless laugh, a few wisps of hair falling out of her ponytail. She was so beautiful when she was happy. He wanted her to be happy all the time.

  “Would you ever get another dog?” she asked.

  “I like the big guys like this one,” he said, pointing his chin toward Emma and the golden retriever. “A husky or a German shepherd or a Lab.”

  “You should get one.”

  He shook his head. “Apartment living isn’t exactly where it’s at for a big dog.”

  She shrugged. “You could move.”

  “I work on Boylston Street. My place is in Back Bay, right on the Charles River. It’s pretty great to be able to walk to work.”

  “Riverfront, huh? Fancy.”

  In his mind’s eye, he could see the brownstones lining the streets that weaved through his neighborhood, lines of English lampposts lighting the way at night. He liked his neighborhood, he did, but it was full of driven young professionals like him, with hardly a family in sight.

  If she and Emma were to move to Boston, they’d probably want to find somewhere else to live.

  “Where did you grow up?” he asked.

  “Lexington.”

  He whistled. “Let me guess. A big Colonial?”

  She nodded. “Yup.”

  “Did you get into the city much?”

  “When I was at BU, I was in the city. My dorm was right next to Fenway Park. When I was little, my sisters and I went to a private school in Cambridge, so I’ve spent a lot of time there, too.”

  “I like Cambridge,” he mused. He liked the bustle of Harvard Square. The Brattle Theatre with its artsy, indie films; the little cafés and hole-in-the-wall restaurants; the outstanding jazz club at the Charles Hotel. He hadn’t been there much since law school—it seemed too far out of the way, somehow, too much effort and too much time away from work.

  Was he that guy? Really? It wasn’t even close to Christmas, but suddenly Jonathan was feeling a lot like the Grinch.

  He turned to Laura, reached out and took her hand. “Have you ever been to the Regattabar Jazz Club?”

  She shook her head, letting him hold her hand but not really holding his back.

  “Want to go with me sometime?”

  “Jonathan...” she said, biting her lip, her eyes cutting to where Emma was still patting the dog. “I thought we talked about this. Boston’s too far for—”

  “It’s not that far. Just two hours. I want to take you out, Laura, on a proper date.”

  “In Boston,” she said, her lips drawn tight.

  “I know Boston. I don’t know Wychmere Bay.”

  “It’s just—” She stopped, looked at him. “What are we doing here, Jonathan?”

  He felt his brow furrow. “What do you mean, what are we doing here?”

  She gestured back and forth between them. “I mean, you, me. What is this?”

  “I like you, Laura. I like you a lot.” He wanted her to know that he was sincere, he was committed. Truly, he’d never felt like this before.

  His words, though, did the opposite of what he’d intended. She looked away, nervous and maybe a little upset. “This isn’t... I mean, I shouldn’t—”

  He was coming on too strong, he could feel it, but couldn’t stop himself from pressing on. “I’m going to the hockey thing with Nate and Brett tonight, but can I take you out tomorrow, just you and me? Dinner, here in Wychmere Bay? Somewhere nice?”

  She chewed her lip. “I don’t know.”

  He could feel her slipping away and it made him desperate. “Friday, then? Or this weekend?”

  “Jonathan...”

  His jaw hardened. “Don’t say it.”

  “You live in Boston,” she said gently. “And I live on Cape Cod.”

  “It’s not that far of a drive. And once you sell the inn, you’ll be free to—”

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I think kissing you last night was a mistake.”

  “A mistake,” he echoed, his voice flat.

  “You and I, we want different things.”

  “Tell me what you want.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Why not? Why can’t it work that way?” he pleaded. “If you tell me what you want, I’ll give it to you. I swear, I’ll give you anything you want.”

  “You want to make partner. It’s what you’ve worked for your entire life.” The look in her eyes was kind. That made it worse.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Emma and I can’t be with a man who’s married to his job. We just can’t.”

  He shook his head stubbornly. “We have a connection. Last night, when we kissed... I know you felt it, too.”

  She bit her lip again. Her voice wavered. “That was attraction, that’s all.”

  He rocked back on his heels. She didn’t feel it, then, this thing t
hat had overtaken him. And if she didn’t feel it, what more could he do?

  “I don’t think what we want is so different, but I get it,” he said, resigned. “You don’t like me the way I like you. It’s okay.”

  She gave him a sharp, disbelieving look, and he did his best to give her a reassuring smile, even though it felt as if the core of him were crumbling. “Really,” he reiterated. “It’s okay.”

  “This thing with Carberry Hotels—”

  “Laura,” he said, taking her soft, smooth hand and clasping it in his own. “No hard feelings. Truly. If we end up working on it together in the fall, I can be professional about it. I promise.”

  She let out a small sigh of relief and he had to stop himself from sucking in a breath of pain. He was glad she felt better, glad that he’d been able to allay her concerns, but how he wished things could be different. How he wished she’d felt what he’d felt when they’d kissed. The same sense of devotion, the same—dare he say it, even to himself?—depths of love.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Laura watched Jonathan’s profile as he drove the car. Emma was singing “Yankee Doodle” for the millionth time in the back seat. He’d moved her car seat into his BMW before they’d left, despite Laura’s protests that it might rough up his leather seats.

  “Bet you’ll be happy to have a break from ‘Yankee Doodle’ for a while,” she said, grasping at anything to say that might end the awkward silence between them. Why had she thought it would be a good idea to break up with him at the museum, when they still had to endure all this time together in the car?

  Was it really a breakup, though? They hadn’t really been together, had they? A couple of impulsive kisses didn’t equate to a relationship, did they?

  If only she’d stopped him before he’d kissed her...

  Because he’d been right in saying that they had a connection, despite what she’d said to him back at the museum. She’d seen the hurt that had rocked through him when she’d downplayed what was between them as mere attraction, and it had almost, almost, made her put her hand on his cheek and tell him that he was right, they had something rare and special, but she just couldn’t turn her mind off and let her feelings carry her away.

  Because her feelings couldn’t be trusted. Hadn’t she already proved that to herself with Conrad, and with Jonathan, even, coming home to find him in the parlor with her mother, laughing about the deal that was going to take the inn away from her?

  Besides, what good would it do her to fall in love with a man who lived in Boston? She didn’t want her daughter having the same kind of childhood she’d had—lots of material advantages but little real love.

  And while she recognized, on some level, that it might be more the idea of Boston than the actual place that bothered her, she also knew that it wasn’t just where he lived that was the problem. He was an ambitious man with a big job. Even if he did have feelings for her, he’d never have the time or attention to be the kind of partner she craved.

  She remembered the day she and Conrad had decided to get married. They’d been dating about six months, and he was coming up on his law school graduation. “If I get a job in New York, will you come with me?” he’d asked. They’d been having dinner at some Thai restaurant in Brighton.

  She’d been a college sophomore. Her friends had thought Conrad—with his blue eyes and his muscular build—was as suave as they came.

  Conrad—who’d grown up wealthy like her, and reveled in it. Conrad—who’d parlayed his father’s connections into acceptance at law school, and then traded on them again for a job offer in what he perceived as the center of the universe: New York City.

  “Conrad, I can’t just leave school—”

  “If you loved me, you’d come. Do you love me, Laura?”

  “Of course I do, but—”

  He’d looked away from her, blue eyes flashing with irritation. “There’s lots of girls who’d be excited to come to New York with me.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to come, it’s just—what would I do for work? I don’t even have my degree yet. I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “You wouldn’t have to do anything.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, right. Because my dad would be thrilled to set me up in my own apartment in New York City where I could sit around and do nothing all day.”

  Now he looked really irritated. “Who said anything about your dad?”

  “How else would I be able to afford New York?”

  “Move in with me.”

  Laura almost choked on a bite of her red curry chicken. “Conrad, we’re not even married. I just can’t...”

  He ran a hand through his light brown hair. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. Marry me.”

  “What?”

  He got down on one knee. A murmur ran through the restaurant. “I don’t have a ring for you yet, but maybe you’ll move to New York with your husband.”

  “Conrad,” she said sharply. “You don’t have to—”

  “Apparently I do. So, what’ll it be, Laura? Will you marry me or not?”

  Her heart had been pounding—with hope, she’d told herself back then, but now she knew that it had been panic, pure and simple. Her heart had been pounding in panic, and she’d said yes because she’d been afraid that if she didn’t—ready or not—she’d lose him.

  She remembered telling her parents that she and Conrad were getting married at city hall in five days. Her mother had been upset that there would be no big wedding, but her father had been the one to ask if she was sure about this—certain that Conrad was the man who’d make her happy for the long haul.

  She’d been angry with her father then, for having the nerve to talk to her about her happiness after abandoning her for his job in Hong Kong. She’d also been angry that he’d introduced doubt into her mind, although she recognized now that he hadn’t so much introduced it as called it to the fore.

  She remembered walking into the courthouse in her off-the-rack dress, her grandmother her matron of honor, Conrad’s roommate the best man. He’d bought her a cheap sterling silver bridal ring set with a princess-cut cubic zirconia center stone and a row of tiny round CZ stones set around the sides of the band. He’d told her he’d buy her a real diamond after he started his new job, although he never had.

  Even at their small, celebratory dinner at a seafood restaurant in Faneuil Hall, she’d felt inexplicably sad. She’d thought to herself, This is new, this is strange, this is different, that’s all. You’ll feel better about things in the morning. It’s just a case of the post-wedding blues.

  She hadn’t felt better in the morning. But her girlfriends had all been a little envious and in awe about the fact that she was married, and she hadn’t had the heart to tell anyone that she thought she might have made a mistake.

  And then, barely a month later, she’d gotten pregnant, and that was that. No more room for doubts—at least not for her.

  She snuck another glance at Jonathan. His hands tightened on the steering wheel in response to her question about getting sick of hearing “Yankee Doodle.” “I don’t mind her singing.” He gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I kind of like it, actually.”

  She didn’t know how to reply. There was a part of her—a large part of her—that didn’t want things with him to end this way, but whom was she kidding? Eventually, even if he didn’t feel that way now, she’d just be someone who was keeping him from staying focused on his career.

  Someone to be pampered and put aside, like her mother.

  Or cheated on and discarded, like her.

  They got off the highway and passed a three-hundred-year-old cemetery in the back of a small white church. Laura stared out the window, not looking at him. Very carefully not looking at the way his hair—without gel—almost reached his eyes. “You can stay, you know, if you want to take a vacation.”r />
  “I’m leaving in the morning,” he said.

  She felt something dark and clawing squeeze her chest. “All right,” she said quietly, keeping her face turned away from him, not knowing what else to say.

  “I had a nice time here, with you. And Emma.” His words were muted, and although she wasn’t looking at him, she could tell he’d taken his eyes off the road to look at her.

  “I’m glad,” she murmured. He seemed sincere, but she couldn’t chance it. Not with Emma to think about. She had to guard not only her own heart, but her daughter’s heart, as well.

  They pulled up to the inn and got out of the car. It had gotten windy, and the sound of the waves hitting the shore was loud, even from this far away.

  He pointed toward the beach. “I’m going to go for a walk.”

  “Mr. Jonafin, the water’s too cold for swimming!” Emma chirped.

  He laughed and ruffled her hair, though his eyes were sad. “Don’t worry, Tiny. I learned my lesson. I won’t go in again.”

  Laura felt a familiar sense of panic well up inside her, and she almost stopped him. Don’t leave. But the last time she’d let that panic take the lead in her life, she’d ended up at the courthouse with Conrad and his CZ ring and his indifference.

  She couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk that again.

  Jonathan’s gaze moved from Emma to Laura. “See you later,” he said quietly.

  “See you later,” she echoed softly, confused about why it hurt so much to say goodbye.

  * * *

  Pastor Nate and his ten-year-old son, Hayden, lived in a small cedar-shingled cottage next to the church. The kitchen had clearly been updated and was open to the living room, which housed a huge flat-screen and a leather sectional that looked comfortably worn in.

  “Hey, Jonathan! Glad you could make it!” Nate greeted him, taking the six-pack of root beer Jonathan had brought with him. “Meet my son, Hayden. Hayden, this is Jonathan. He’s been staying at The Sea Glass Inn.”

  “Hello, sir,” the boy said, extending his hand.