“I’m going to fly out tonight instead of tomorrow.” Nick’s words brought her into sharp focus.
“Wait, what?” she said in a thin voice.
“I think it’s best, Lauren,” he said, smiling.
The smile was sad, though, and that only made Lauren’s heart ache more.
“How about you give me the grand tour of this place,” he continued. “Then I’ll head out. The contract’s signed, your grandmother seems satisfied, and I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”
Lauren brushed at her cheeks and took a stuttering breath. Was Nick dumping her? That was her job. Yet . . .
He rose to his feet and straightened that infernal tie he’d been wearing all day. He held out his hand. “How about that tour?”
Lauren looked at his hand. She knew it wasn’t the affection she was hoping for but more of a conciliatory gesture. Despite her better judgment, she placed her hand in his, and as they passed by the bookcases, she set the journal atop a stack of books. Sofia would find it easily enough later. Or not. Lauren didn’t care much for a decades-old curse that had only brought havoc and heartache to her life.
Nick was still holding her hand, but it wasn’t like it used to be. Warm shivers weren’t racing up and down her arms. A heaviness had settled in her chest, and her throat was aching again. Still, because she seemed to like being tortured, she walked with Nick through the main rooms of the house.
She pointed out the kitchen—which had been recently renovated. They walked through the downstairs gallery of portraits. Nick stopped before the portrait of her great-grandfather, Walter Ambrose, for several moments.
“This is the man who started it all,” Lauren said. “When my great-grandfather found oil on the estate, everything changed.”
Then they headed out the back doors and into the gardens. The warm afternoon sun had cast a lazy spell across the flowering trees and bushes. The humming of bees only added to the effect.
“It’s beautiful out here,” Nick said, his low voice rippling through Lauren.
She already missed him, and he hadn’t even left yet.
He released her hand and stopped in front of the gazebo. She watched him examine the arching wooden beams, noticing the small things about him. The olive coloring of his skin. The set of his sturdy shoulders. The bits of whiskers that had appeared with the advancing afternoon. The quirk of his lips—those lips that she’d kissed plenty. The way he smiled at her.
She turned away, her stomach tumbling with butterflies. What if she asked him to stay? Told him how she really felt?
Walking in the direction of the family cemetery, she didn’t wait for him to catch up. She was sure he would soon enough, but she needed a few moments to herself.
Lauren had been alone for thirty years, and she could conceivably continue on for decades more, living her life as it was now. Focusing on her art. Avoiding the wealthy. Enjoying peace.
Yet . . . she reached the outer wrought-iron gate that led into the graveyard. The shade here was deep, providing much-needed relief from the Texan sunshine. She heard, rather than saw, Nick approaching. His footsteps scattered a few small pebbles.
She stopped in front of the headstone that read Richard Jacob Millet. Lauren’s grandfather and Lillian’s husband. Lauren had never met him, of course, and when Nick stopped next to her, she said, “My grandfather died when he was forty. He was fishing during the spring, when the water levels were higher than normal. My grandmother said that he fell into the creek, and he became trapped under the rocks.”
He listened, then said, “Does your grandmother know about the journal?”
“Yes,” Lauren said. “Sofia showed it to her as well, but of course it’s too late for her to do anything about it.”
Nick nodded and slipped his hands into his pockets.
Lauren wished he had taken her hand, but she couldn’t expect that of him now. He moved to another gravestone several paces away. The name on it read George Frederick Ambrose II. “This is the one whose wife wrote the journal, huh?”
“Yeah,” Lauren said in a faint voice.
The wind stirred the tree branches above, and it gave a nice reprieve of cooler air. She watched Nick as he walked among the other headstones, scattered throughout the designated burial site. He didn’t seem upset or annoyed, just . . . resigned. Which almost made her feel worse.
Lauren walked to a metal bench that had been painted a dark red at one point but was now more of a mottled rust color. She sat on one end and closed her eyes, letting the breeze stir her hair and cool off her neck.
She thought of all that had led her to this point. Nick’s business-partner offer to her grandmother, him seeking her out in San Diego, and then . . . coming to Ambrose again to read her great-grandmother’s words.
When she opened her eyes, Nick walked over to her great-grandmother’s headstone and stood gazing down at it, looking deep in thought.
She knew she’d never forget that image of him—his hands in his pockets, his handsome profile somber, his hair stirring with the wind.
Suddenly, he lifted his gaze as if he’d just realized she was still there with him. His hazel eyes scanned her face, then moved lower. When his gaze returned to her face, he said, “I should go.” The gentleness in his tone was mixed with a finality that made Lauren feel hollow.
She rose to her feet, her entire body trembling. Yet she took a steadying breath and moved toward Nick.
He met her halfway, and then he leaned down and kissed her cheek without touching any other part of her body. The kiss was brief, barely there, and Nick had straightened and moved away before Lauren could react. He was leaving. And she wasn’t doing anything to stop him.
Her heart raced as she watched him walk away. Do something, she told herself. But her arms remained by her side, her feet immovable, her voice silent.
Nick continued through the cemetery until he reached the gate that had automatically swung shut on its own. He opened the gate and stepped through. He closed the gate gently, then he cast a final glance at her.
Lauren’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest, and she felt like calling after him. But she didn’t.
Nick gave the smallest of nods, then walked away.
Away from Ambrose. And out of her life.
Lauren didn’t know how long she sat on the bench in the cemetery. She supposed she was in a bit of a shock. She’d only known Nick for a few weeks, yet he was the first man she’d imagined a future with. The first man who made her truly feel misery over the curse in her family.
She hadn’t even heard his rental car drive away. No doubt he was long gone by now. Possibly even on a flight already. Maybe even a private chartered jet. He’d offered to fly her on one here, but she’d quickly turned him down.
Nick had been more than patient with her. He’d been a gentleman from the moment they stood on the airport curb together. He’d praised and respected her art. He’d even spent thousands on her paintings, for heaven’s sake.
And still, Lauren sat on the metal bench. Doing nothing. It was like her soul had fled to be replaced with mechanical parts. She felt nothing. Thought nothing.
“There you are,” Sofia said, her voice seeming far away.
But when Lauren looked up, her sister was standing right in front of her. Soon Sofia was settled onto the bench.
Lauren waited for her sister to speak her mind, to offer a reprimand, but Sofia simply gazed over the cemetery, and a quietness settled between the two sisters.
“Is he gone?” Lauren said at last.
“Yes.” Sofia smoothed back some hair from her face.
The wind hadn’t let up, but Lauren didn’t mind. “Do you think I did the right thing?”
Sofia cast her a side glance. “For now. You need to be sure. And when you’re sure, you’ll do the next right thing.”
Three Weeks Later
“Mother,” Nick said, answering the phone. “Can I call you back in a few minutes? I’m in the middle of—”
> “They can wait,” his mother snapped. “This can’t. Reisa Benson told me you haven’t RSVP’d for her daughter’s beach wedding. I told her she must be kidding, because last week you said you had.”
Nick exhaled. “I said that I would as soon as I . . .” He shook his head. “I forgot, plain and simple. But I’m sure they’re mostly looking forward to seeing you and not me.”
“Nicholas Matthews, that’s not true,” his mother said. “The Bensons are your father’s oldest friends, and it’s imperative that we support their family on this important date.”
Nick rubbed his forehead, trying to stave off the instant headache that had formed. He was drowning in work right now, since the tech company he’d hired to implement the contract for the Ambrose project had lost a key engineer, and now everyone was scrambling to make the deadlines.
“When is it?” he asked, hoping that his frustration wouldn’t be detected by his mother. That would only make her more upset.
His mother hissed through her teeth. “Tonight at seven. It’s a sunset wedding.”
Nick closed his eyes. The timing was terrible. Yes, the Bensons went back with his family a long way, but he wasn’t interested in socializing. It had been three weeks since he walked out of the Ambrose family cemetery. Three weeks since he’d seen or heard from Lauren.
Nick hated to admit it, but he’d allowed himself to build up hope, to fall in love with a woman who he thought might love him in return, and now . . . he realized he’d been too idealistic. Lauren Ambrose had never given her heart to anyone. Her world, her simple unfettered life, centered around her art. Nick had known it from the beginning.
Nick had no reason to feel blindsided. Yet he felt exactly that. He’d allowed himself to be swept away by Lauren Ambrose. And the fall back to earth had hurt more than he could imagine.
But he couldn’t hide out forever; his mother had made that more than clear.
He was still a Matthews, and he still needed to honor his father’s memory. Tonight Nick would be focused on that. It was time to stop wallowing in his own misguided decisions.
Nick spent the next hour replying to emails, then sending a list of to-dos to his executive assistant. Everything else would have to wait until after the beach wedding. He’d stick to a single glass of champagne so that he could be clear-minded enough to continue working when he returned.
Finally, Nick did a search on his email to pull up the original invitation and was happy to see that the event was casual. He wouldn’t have to worry about wearing a stuffy tux. He opted for khakis and a pale-green, button-down shirt that he could roll up the sleeves on. As he slipped on an older pair of Italian-leather loafers that could withstand a little sand and salt, he thought of what Lauren might say about him dressing down.
He found himself whistling as he left his house and entered the garage. He truly hoped that things with her would be well. She deserved happiness as much as the next person, and he wished her the best of whatever form that took.
The drive to the designated beach took less than ten minutes, and from the moment Nick arrived, he was glad he’d come. Several of his father’s acquaintances were there, and it was like a healing balm for Nick to talk about his dad with people who knew him well.
A huge canopy had been set up. Trellis stands decorated with ivy and flowers created the sides, with the back of the tent opened to the setting sun on the Pacific. Nick had to admit, it was a very nice view. A dozen rows of chairs were arranged for the guests, and small tables were scattered about, with glowing candles surrounded by protective glass.
His mother sailed over in a sheath dress and glittery makeup. After kissing him, she said, “Barb’s here, and she’s dying to see you.”
Nick wanted to melt into the crowd and avoid Barb at all costs. As a fifty-something woman, Barb had no qualms about showing her interest in Nick. And . . . there she was.
“Nick, honey,” she crooned.
He wondered how many times she’d had plastic surgery. Maybe even she’d lost count. Not a wrinkle in sight.
“Hello, Barbara,” Nick said. “Sorry I can’t chat. I’ve got to speak with someone before they leave.”
Her tweezed brows pulled together. “Who would want to leave before the ceremony?”
Nick smiled, shrugged, and moved past her. He meandered through the crowd, finding other people to chat with, and by the time it was almost time for the ceremony, he sat on the back row.
Alcohol was already being consumed, and the laughter and joviality grew with the passing moments. Nick was more than content to be sitting out of the way of the crowd, and when the pastor stood at the front of the gathering to announce the imminent ceremony, everyone took their seats.
Most of the rows in front of him were filled, but there were still a few open seats on the back row by him. And when a woman slipped into a seat two away from him, Nick didn’t look over at first.
But when she crossed her legs, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of her sandals. Ones that Nick remembered Lauren wearing. He subtly glanced over at the woman two seats down, and sure enough, Lauren Ambrose had come late to the wedding.
His first question was, what was she doing here? His second, how did she know the Bensons? She didn’t appear to be with a date, and Nick didn’t want to analyze the relief he felt about that. Although if Lauren was back to her serial dating, it was no business of his anyway.
He tried to focus on the ceremony, but his attention kept straying to Lauren. She wore a light-yellow dress with thin straps and a low-cut back. With her leaning forward, he could see her without her noticing him. But he really shouldn’t be staring at the elegant line of her neck, the blush pink of her lips, or the way her hair was pulled into a loose chignon.
She was beautiful. As always.
Nick gave up on listening to the wedding ceremony, and as soon as it concluded and the applause began, he rose and slipped away. He didn’t return to his car but took off his shoes and headed along the beach toward an outcrop of rocks. The setting sun shimmered orange against the golden horizon, and he tried to focus on the beauty of the evening and not the tumult of feelings that had risen upon seeing Lauren.
From afar, he watched the celebration of dancing and food as twilight descended. The music drifted in his direction, accompanied by laughter.
He should head back home and return to work, but he continued sitting on a wide rock and gazing out to the sea, watching the sun slip completely below the horizon and darkness replace it. The moon hung heavy in the sky, and the stars created a brilliant patchwork. Laughter and music floated from the wedding party, but Nick ignored it all.
So when someone tapped him on his shoulder, he started.
“Sorry,” Lauren said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Nick turned to look at her, unsure if he was imagining her presence. Although there was plenty of light from the moon and the wedding party, Lauren was silhouetted against the light and he couldn’t see her expression.
“Do you know the Bensons?” he asked.
“Yeah, Mrs. Benson goes way back with my grandmother,” Lauren said in a breathless tone. “She’s originally from Texas.”
“I didn’t know that.” Nick scooted over on the rock. He figured he’d give her room to sit, and it would be up to her to do so. “Tired of the party?”
She didn’t answer for a moment as she gazed out over the dark waves undulating a few yards away. The yellow of her dress was a pale gold beneath the moonlight, and even from his place on the rock and despite the ocean breeze, her wildflower scent reached him. Taunting his senses with memories.
He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until she sat on the other edge of the rock, about two feet from him. Exhaling slowly, he tried to talk himself into remaining nonchalant. Maybe she wanted to talk about his partnership with Ambrose Oil.
“I saw your mother,” she said.
So, not about the oil business. “Yeah?”
“I don’t think she rem
embered who I was,” Lauren said. “I said hello, and she smiled at me like I was a friend.”
Nick shook his head at the irony. “She very well knows who you are, but my mother can be two-faced. In a crowd of people, she tends to be very pleasant.”
“Hmm,” Lauren said. “That was my second conclusion.”
Nick hated how his mother acted sometimes and even more how she’d treated Lauren at the gala. “I’m sorry about my mother.” He felt the old anger returning, but what was he supposed to do at this point? He hadn’t even expected to see Lauren again.
“Your mother’s not you, Nick,” Lauren said. “You don’t have to apologize for her. Besides, I can stand up for myself—believe me, women who flaunt their wealth don’t bother me. Next time I see her, I’ll just remind her who I am again, and we’ll go from there.”
Nick stared at her, although her gaze was still on the ocean. “Next time?”
She lifted one of her elegant shoulders in a small shrug. Then she turned her head to look at him. A soft smile played on her face, but her gaze was vulnerable. “That would depend on you.”
The words were quiet, and Nick wasn’t even sure he’d heard her right. “What depends on me?”
“Everything depends on you.”
Her gaze held his, and a flicker of hope began in his belly, but he didn’t want to trust in that hope and let it spread. “I didn’t know I had so much power, because the last time I saw you, it was clear that nothing depended on me.”
Her lips parted, and she slowly exhaled. “Well, you were wrong, Nicholas Matthews.”
Nick wanted to kiss her, as foolish as it sounded. But they were broken up. He wasn’t even sure where she was going with this. Why she’d come to talk to him. Why she was looking at him like she wanted him to say something or do something. But what?
“I don’t normally like to be wrong,” he finally said, “but maybe I’ll make an exception if you tell me what you are talking about, Lauren Ambrose.”
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