Once in a Blue Moon

by Amanda Ashby

  Just one drink.

  She stepped inside and peered around.

  He was in a window booth, wearing a white linen shirt. His face softened at the sight of her, as if surprised she’d turned up. That made two of them.

  I can do hard things.

  “Hey,” he said as she slid onto the seat opposite him, the red Formica table acting as a barrier. There were two beers. “I wasn’t sure if that’s what you still drank. I can get you something else.”

  She faltered, torn between not wanting him to think he knew her and the idea of calming down her erratic pulse. She took the beer.

  “This is fine.” Her fingers tightened around the cool glass as she studied him.

  His dark hair was pushed off his face, leaving his brow exposed. His eyes were a thousand shades of blue, like the hydrangeas growing behind Jessica’s inn. A smile hovered around his mouth, and the faint scent of cedarwood tickled her nose, along with mint. Like the earth.

  “Thanks for coming.” He gave her a high-voltage smile that sent electricity flickering through her belly. Had it always had that effect on her?

  Um, that would be yes.

  This was already getting out of hand. Some men thickened out as they hit their forties. Hair grew in the wrong places, and their faces changed. But Adam had become more attractive. All bronzed, hard edges and sizzling smiles.

  She gulped her beer, self-conscious of the tight dress pressing against her ribs.

  Wear it, she’d thought earlier. You hate this dress. It will be a reminder you hate him, too.

  Except now, as her skin heated under the soft fabric, it was a painful reminder that what they once shared hadn’t quite gone away. India might have been onto something about a fling. As soon as he left town, she’d consider it.

  Preventive maintenance against lusting after inappropriate men.

  Man. Singular.

  “What do you want, Adam? Is it about the book?”

  “It’s part of it. I tried to call you.” The smile faded, and he ran a hand through his hair. He looked tired. Not that she cared. “But it was like you’d fallen off the map.”

  “Welcome to off-the-map.” She spread out her arms. “St. Clair. We’re a bit of a hidden secret. I’m surprised it’s not filled with Mafia on the lam.”

  “The Godfather. We watched that movie together.”

  “We also watched The Lion King. You cried,” she said in a cool voice. “And I thought we agreed not to go there.”

  “You were the one who didn’t want to go there.” He just shrugged and fixed her with a curious glance.

  “Adam.” Her fingers tightened around the beer bottle.

  “Sorry.” He held his hands up. “I retract that statement. Point is, I did try and tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” Ten years of humiliation lodged in her throat as the memories came flooding back. She’d been in a bookstore—ironically, picking a gift for Simon, to celebrate their first wedding anniversary—when she’d seen Blue Moon sitting on a display table. At first, she’d assumed that it had been written by another Adam Fitzpatrick. It had to be. But when she’d flicked to the back cover, his face had stared out at her.

  It was a blur after that. She’d hidden in the corner of the store and scanned the book for an hour, her past coming to life like a twisted nightmare as she read passage after passage. Somehow, she’d driven back to the cottage she and Simon lived in, but the evening had been ruined, and she’d gone to bed, saying she had a migraine.

  By the following morning, she’d composed herself, convinced it would blow over. But the opposite happened. And the more successful it became, the more impossible it had been to admit the truth. Which meant not only had Adam betrayed her, but he’d forced her to be complicit in a horrible web of secrets.

  “I wrote the book when I was mad as all hell. And hurt.” He bowed his head and studied the label on his bottle, his fingers tracing the beaded drops of moisture. “I never expected it would get published. I wasn’t writing it for anyone but me. So…I didn’t bother to filter. Then, when I got the publishing deal, all the parts I wanted to take out were what my editor loved best.”

  “You turned me into a laughingstock.” Her temples pounded.

  “It was fiction. You get that, right?”

  “Except it wasn’t all fiction, and if people ever found out, how would they know what parts were real and what was your imagination?” she hissed, keeping her voice low. Trying not to throw a bottle at him. She collected herself. “The only thing you didn’t accuse me of doing was boiling a child’s fluffy pet. You said I went to Boston, chasing after you. Stalking you. Making your life hell because I couldn’t live without you. Which is the opposite of what happened. I didn’t call you once.”

  “I’m achingly aware of that.” His eyes darkened like a summer storm looming on the horizon.

  Like he was angry. Hurt.

  “Wait… You wanted me to chase you?” She was momentarily thrown.

  She’d been twenty-one when they’d broken up. Living in San Francisco, fresh out of college and working her first job. They’d only been dating a year when he started doing graveyard shifts at the newspaper. It had been chaotic but fun, until he announced he had a new job, with better hours, better money, better opportunities.

  In Boston.

  And so he’d left her, promising they’d figure out a way, but Laney had known it was over.

  I wasn’t enough for him to stay.

  She’d been ten when her mom’s cancer diagnosis had come and eleven when her dad had walked out. Laney had begged him not to. Raced after him, clutching at his hand, trying to drag him back into the house. But he’d shaken her off and kept walking, leaving her behind, heart ripped to shreds. She swallowed down the bile that always accompanied the memory. She’d known not to do it with Adam.

  “Not quite as dramatically as Nina did. But hell, I wanted you to fight for us. To care. Even a little.”

  Something hit her in the chest. Pain. Incredulity. Confusion.

  He thought I didn’t care?

  Could he not see that what she’d done was self-preservation?

  “You left me, Adam. You took a job without even discussing it first. Then for a month I hardly heard from you, until one drunken phone call during which you suddenly asked me to move three thousand miles away. Because you were lonely.”

  The worst of it was she hadn’t said no. She just needed time to think. To see if she could trust him not to leave Boston the way he’d left San Francisco. To see if it was worth the risk to say goodbye to her crappy apartment that rattled every time a freight train went by. Which was why she hadn’t answered straightaway.

  And that’s what had done it.

  The one-second pause she’d taken had been enough for him. He’d given her the ultimatum. Yes or no.

  Black or white.

  When she couldn’t answer, he’d dumped her. He’d left and broken her heart. There had been nothing more to say.

  “Hell. You make it sound like it was a booty call. I missed you, Laney.”

  “So why didn’t you give me time to decide?” she countered. He flinched and stretched his neck.

  “I admit I overreacted, but I tried to fix it. I tried to call. You ghosted me.” His jaw clenched.

  Had she?

  Maybe he was right?

  She shut her eyes, not sure what to do with it all. Had it all been a mistake? Alternative futures flashed through her mind, but she slammed them back down. None of it mattered. They had broken up, and she’d married Simon. She couldn’t regret one without the other.

  “I’m sorry you think so,” she finally spoke.

  “Thought,” he corrected, the hurt in his eyes disappearing like a switch had been pressed. “It’s in the past, but I’m sorry, too. Sorry it’s taken me so long to tell you that.” He ga
ve her a half smile, and his blue eyes crinkled at the sides. There were a few more lines around them, but they were still so familiar.

  The tension in her shoulders eased.

  He was right. She’d buried a husband, and he’d become a famous author. They were both different. And despite his detour to St. Clair, they weren’t even in the same orbit any longer. The fire in her veins went out. Being angry seemed pointless.

  “Apology accepted.” She took a sip of beer.

  “I appreciate it. I am sorry I never got to warn you about the book.”

  “And take away the panic of wondering if people would discover the truth about me? That my husband and friends might start to look at me like I was Nina?”

  He tilted his head to acknowledge a hit, though his eyes were gleaming. “I kept waiting for you to go public on me. Tell your side of the story and make me look like the biggest A-hole in the world.”

  “Self-preservation. Like I said, I hardly wanted the world to look at me like I was Nina,” she admitted.

  “I get why you’re angry,” he said, his words taking the sting out of her emotions. It had been a long week, and the flood of adrenaline swamping her body was gone.

  She pushed away her half-finished beer. “Did you get what you came for?”

  “Not quite.” His eyes locked onto hers, bright against the low lighting of the restaurant. Her skin turned to gooseflesh, and her palms went damp, reminding her that being around Adam was dangerous.

  He’d betrayed her once before; he could do it again.

  “What do you mean?” She must have sounded alarmed, because he sat back and shook his head.

  He licked his lips. “My intentions are honorable.”

  Boo. Her itch bristled. Laney ignored it, trying to put out the heat in her cheeks. He leaned back against the booth and stared at the ceiling, as if searching for words. Or courage. Or both. An uneasy sensation squirmed in her stomach.

  “I’m staying in St. Clair for two months. To finish my book.”

  The background chatter faded away to nothing, and her ears buzzed. She examined the tiny white flecks on the tabletop. There was no pattern to them. Just random squiggles appearing here and there. No order. No symmetry.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I haven’t written more than a page in months,” he said, his face frozen. Like it had cost him to admit it. “Last night, something changed. I wrote.”

  “Is this a joke?” Her mouth went dry, and panic flooded her veins. He wanted to write another book while living in her hometown? Her mind whirled. After Blue Moon, there had been two more books in the series. Dark Moon and Bitter Moon. They hadn’t done as well as the first, and neither of them featured Nina, but that didn’t mean anything. “You want to steal my life again?”

  The color leached from his face, and his jaw tightened. “Hell. No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “This isn’t about you, Laney. No Nina. No Elle. No Doctor Josh. I swear, it’s a new story, new characters.”

  The room spun, and her heart hammered. “I don’t understand.”

  “Paige offered me her apartment.”

  Of course Paige had. That’s just how the universe worked. Laney had loved Simon, and he was dead. She hated Adam, and not only was he alive, but now he wanted to live next door? She must have let out a hysterical laugh, because his eyes widened. The color shifting from dull navy to a softer duck egg blue.

  “How do you know it wasn’t a fluke? You might get here and nothing’s changed.”

  “I don’t know how to explain it.” He pushed his beer away. “Something just feels different. Does that make sense?”

  Unfortunately, yes.

  There was something special about St. Clair.

  She’d known it from the first time Simon had brought her to meet his twin sister and his folks. Up until then, he’d just been her quiet, gentle friend who helped her get over her heartbreak. But she’d fallen in love with him that day. And the town.

  “It makes sense,” she finally said. She shouldn’t even be surprised at how far he was willing to go for his career. After all, he moved to Boston, so moving to a tiny Oregon town to finish a book was no different. He hasn’t changed.

  “If you want me to stay out of your way, I can do that.”

  Good. She gave him a sharp nod and shut her eyes.

  It wasn’t ideal. Far from it, but they’d both moved on. What right did she have to say no?

  After all, it was Paige’s life, too. The rent from the apartment helped pay the mortgage on the building. She licked her lips.

  “Just to be clear. This is my home. After you go, I’ll still be living here. I’ve kept this secret for ten years, and it’s not something I want to change now. Do you understand?”

  “I do. And Laney, I’m sorry about your husband. I heard what happened.”

  Her brow throbbed at the mention of Simon. By Adam, of all people.

  The two halves of her life. The good and the bad.

  She abruptly got to her feet. “If we’re done, I need to go. I’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

  “Sure.” He stood up and smiled as she smoothed down the too-tight sundress. Then she walked out of the restaurant as if everything was fine. As if she hadn’t momentarily lost her mind and allowed the man who almost ruined her life to move in next door to her for two months.

  Chapter Four

  “Today I met someone. Her name is Elle.” Blue Moon

  Adam rolled his shoulders and stepped into the bar. It had been an old railroad station with stripped wooden floors and brass fittings. Suspended from the ceiling above the counter was a long hanging frame filled with twisting vines and an explosion of colorful flowers artfully poking out of it, like a floating floral canopy.

  Was it one of Laney’s?

  True to his word, he’d kept out of her way. It hadn’t been hard, and he suspected she was deliberately avoiding him. Probably for the best. Despite everything, there was still a spark. And she hadn’t ruled out Boston; she’d just needed more time.

  Was it true? He could only recall the bitter jab of rejection that she hadn’t wanted to drop everything and be with him. What a jerk I was. She had moved from San Francisco to St. Clair to be with her husband. Which meant his carefully constructed belief might have been wrong. She might have been telling the truth.

  What the hell?

  If I hadn’t given her an ultimatum– Nope. Not going there.

  Been there, done that, lost the sweatshirt to prove it.

  He gritted his teeth and ordered a beer. The bar was busy for a Wednesday afternoon. A couple of women nodded at him, and he returned the greeting without a clue who they were. He rubbed his eyes. He’d spent most of last night and the whole day writing, and his shoulders were stiff.

  He swallowed a mouthful of beer as a mountain of a guy appeared next to him. His arm was slung around a beautiful brunette.

  “Hey.” The guy held out a hand. “I’m Jacob, and this is Melanie. Heard you put on a good show the other day. I would’ve come, but there was no room left. I think most of the female population of St. Clair was crammed in to meet you.”

  “He’s only jealous. He used to be the town playboy. But seriously, you were great.”

  “Glad you enjoyed it. Paige runs good events,” Adam said.

  “Humph.” Melanie snorted

  “Honey, we’ve talked about this.” Jacob made a clicking noise.

  “Fine. Paige Taylor is a town treasure. Whatever would we do without her? Happy?” The last part was delivered to Jacob, who rewarded her with a kiss. Adam tried to plan an exit strategy. Being around lovers wasn’t his idea of a good time.

  “Nice to meet you both.” He picked up his drink and peered around for a spare seat. There was one at the far corner.

  “
You, too,” Melanie said, following his gaze. “Though, word of warning. If you go that way, you’ll get jumped by Arthur Lewis and his wife. Nice folks, but they’ll talk your ear off about a Scandinavian cruise they went on. Fifteen years ago. There are photos.”

  “Sounds ominous,” he said as the couple in question gave him a little wave. He nodded in the other direction. “What about over there? Safe?”

  “Sure,” Melanie said with a shrug. “If you like line dancing.”

  “Does anyone?” He blinked.

  “Yup,” Jacob said as the bartender slid across a glass of wine and a bottle of Bud. “The Lang brothers are married to two sisters, and they teach a class every Wednesday. They’ll have you heel-toeing in no time.”

  “This place sounds like shark-infested waters.”

  “You have no idea,” Jacob agreed in a pleasant voice. “You should see the town meetings. Carnage.”

  “He’s exaggerating,” Melanie said. “Though not by much. It’s safest if you come and sit with us.”

  “I—” Adam started to open his mouth but shut it again as a group of girls not much older than the drinking age beelined toward him. He gave them a grateful smile. “Sure.”

  An hour later, he got to his feet. Melanie and Jacob had kept him laughing by describing their rocky courtship in hilarious details, then insisting he join them the following morning for breakfast, treating him like a long-lost friend. Even more unexpectedly, he’d said yes.

  He’d left his car at the bookstore in favor of the exercise. He walked down to the water to make his way back. As he went, Miley Cyrus blasted out from his phone. He ignored it. A text message followed.

  You know I’ll keep calling, right? Talk to me or I’ll arrange to get you on People’s “Ten Worst Ex-Husbands” list.

  He’d spoken to Eloise briefly, congratulating her on the baby news before adding that he was staying in St. Clair for two months. Since then, he’d been avoiding her calls, not quite ready for her sympathy. Or for the reminder that he sucked at love.