Second Chance Girl

by Jessica Thorn

  She continues, “When he finally went to the doctor, it turned out to be lung cancer. They said there was nothing they could do; it had grown too big. He was gone within the year.”

  Silence falls over the room, as Cheryl and I exchange pained glances. Gran’s husband had died of lung cancer not even a year after they’d had their first, and only, child? Suddenly, all of the pieces are clicking together in my head, a million tiny lightbulbs going off, one by one. Gran had had a baby, and lost the love of her life, practically all at the same time. She must have been terrified, raising an infant all by herself, and feeling an unimaginable amount of grief. Then to think of what happened to my mother, what became of Gran’s only daughter...

  I swallow hard, the lump in throat growing harder to swallow.

  Gran turns to me again, her hand swiping at the tears on her face. Surprisingly, she raises a hand to my face, and cups my chin.

  “You remind me so much of that time, Elizabeth. You, and that boy, Cam. You’re just like Henry and I were. Young, and in love.”

  I freeze, her words sending a chill down my spine. Cam and I? I shake my head, realizing she must not remember that it’s been ten years since Cam and I broke up. That, or she thought that we were still together, somehow, when she saw him the other day.

  “No, Gran, Cam and I aren’t together anymore. That was a long time ago, and I’m not sure if we can ever get back to that. Time is just not on our side.”

  Her eyes crinkle, a mixture of mirth and sadness shining through in her smile.

  “Oh, Elizabeth. If there’s one thing I’ve realized recently, it’s that time is the most precious thing we have. And love never wastes it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cameron

  “WELL, YOU CERTAINLY have a spring in your step today.”

  I look up to see my mom walking up my driveway, a tray with two coffees from Java Point in her hand and Bella at her heels. I set down the shovel I was using to dig out a space for a flowerbed in the front yard of my house, and go over to greet her, wrapping one arm around her in a hug.

  “I could say the same about you,” I say. “Thanks for the coffee”

  She walks over to where I’ve been digging and assess the plot, nodding her head in approval.

  “Are you going to plant the impatiens like I suggested?” mom asks, inspecting the space.

  “That’s the plan,” I say. Mom has always had a green thumb, something that I inherited. She was super excited when I told her I’d be planting some flower beds around the house while I worked on the landscaping.

  We each take a sip of our coffees, mom narrowing her eyes at me. She gives me that mom look, that I know you did something, and you better tell me what kind of look.

  “Something wrong?” I ask. I have a feeling I know what this is about, but I’m not going to offer it up. Nope, if she’s going to snoop and meddle, then she’ll have to own it. She’ll have to ask me herself.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” she says, taking another sip of her coffee. “I’ve been hearing a lot of chatter from the town gossips though, that’s for sure.”

  “Is that so,’ I reply, more of a statement than a question.

  “Mhm,” she says, watching me like a hawk. I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of giving it away. I set down my coffee and pick the shovel back up, continuing to dig. Mom huffs at me impatiently. “The salon in town has been buzzing with a story about a particular local contractor reuniting with a long, lost love.”

  I turn to face her, one hand on my hip and the other balancing on the shovel.

  “Spit it out, mom,” I say.

  “Well, I heard from Betty that Maeve Waller was driving past Tate Construction a few nights ago and thought she you and Elizabeth getting very cozy together, if you know what I mean.”

  My heart rate shoots into overdrive at the mention of Elizabeth and the other night, and I have to bite my cheeks to keep a smile from spreading across my face. I didn’t know what had possessed me to think I could kiss her, but I was even more surprised when she kissed me back. And it hadn’t just been some chaste, gentle kiss. No, it had been hot, and needy, and everything I could have hoped it would be. Hell, I had to take a cold shower when I got home just to calm down. I could barely sleep the last few nights, replaying it in my head over and over again.

  “Betty didn’t believe it, of course,” my mom continues. “That is, until she happened to be in the neighborhood of Helen’s house this morning and saw it for herself!”

  I lower my eyes to the ground. Crap. Someone saw us? I probably should have been a little more discreet when I kissed her in Helen’s driveway, but I couldn’t help myself. I’d been thinking of the feel of her soft, perfect lips on mine since she’d driven away last night. I didn’t think anyone had been watching.

  “Do you have a point you’re trying to make?” I ask, but it backfires, because she just gives me another one of her infamous mom looks that practically compels me to spill the beans. I give her a heavy sigh, then nod my head. “Okay,” I say. “I kissed Lizzie, so what?”

  My mom beams at me, clapping her hands in front of her. “I knew you’d find your way back to one another,” she says.

  “Mom, stop, it’s not like that,” I say. “It was probably a one-time thing, anyway.”

  “Well it sounds like it was a two-time thing,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. I cringe.

  “Okay, a two-time thing then. Seriously, don’t make it more than it is.”

  I mean it, too. As much as I enjoyed our kiss, and frankly, as much as I’d love to do a lot more than kiss her, I have to take it slow. I know that Lizzie is only in town to get Helen situated, and to fix up the house. She’s not staying for the long-term. At least, not yet. Maybe, though, with some time, I can convince her that Rocky Point is where she belongs. Rocky Point, and with me.

  The minute she kissed me back, I knew that there would be nobody else in the world like Elizabeth Quinn. I have never been able to find something even remotely close to what Lizzie and I had, and if anything, that kiss had just confirmed for me that all those years of being angry and hurt, all that time I spent devoting every ounce of energy into my business so that I could forget the pain of her leaving, it had all been for one thing: to make me into the person I need to be for her. Eighteen-year-old me didn’t have any direction or ambition. When Lizzie left for college, I was bitter, and angry, and selfish. I wanted to be the center of her world, and that would have only held her back. Now though, I see that we both grew up to become exactly who we needed to be. And as much as it kills me to think that my mom, and Gray, and Eddie were right, I have to believe that this is our second chance.

  I still need to ease Lizzie into it, though. She has a lot going on with Helen’s illness and all the painful memories being back in Rocky Point must be digging up. I don’t want to scare her off, or move too fast. I need to be careful, and I need to convince her that I’ve changed, that I’m the type of man she deserves now. And to do that, I might need a little help.

  “Do you think you can help me get the flowers in before this evening?” I ask my mom, who rolls her eyes and pulls a pair of gardening gloves out of her pockets. She gives me a knowing look.

  “Sure I can, but may I ask, what’s the rush?”

  “I just might want to show the house off soon,” I say, evading the intent I know was behind her question. “And I would really love it if the house looked nice.”

  “Uh huh,” she says, slipping on her gardening gloves and pointing toward the porch, where several flats of color, barely blooming impatiens, and other colorful annuals. “Those the flowers?”

  “Yep, I’ll finish digging out this bed if you want to start bringing some flats down. I’ve got mulch in the back.”

  “You got it.” She gives me a thumbs-up and starts walking toward the porch, Bella following closely behind her.

  “Thanks, mom!” I call after her. She turns around and gives me a conspiratorial wink.


  “Anything for my favorite son!”

  LIZZIE DID SAY SHE wanted to do something low-key, so I’ve devised the perfect plan. I’m going to cook her dinner in my beautiful new kitchen, and show off all the work I’ve put into my house so she can see exactly what sort of man I’ve turned into. Plus, a little bit of privacy might be exactly what I need to convince her that there’s a life for her here in Rocky Point.

  After finishing up planting in the flower beds, which went much faster than anticipated thanks to my mom’s help, I head into town to the grocery store to grab ingredients and supplies to make Lizzie the perfect dinner. Hopefully. I’m more of a take-out or microwave dinner kind of guy, and to be honest I really don’t cook all that much. But I’m going to go with steaks, because I’m pretty sure I should be able to nail that. Plus, pair it with a nice bottle of red wine, and there’s no way I could go wrong.

  I’m not really a wine drinker either, so I had planned to just grab whatever looked good. Now, standing in front of the millions of options for red wine, I realize what a rookie mistake I made in thinking I could just grab a bottle and go. Grabbing two bottles off the shelf in front of me, I stare at the labels and try to figure out the difference between a Malbec and a Cabernet. Is there even really a difference? Is red even the best wine to go with steak? I thought I heard that somewhere. Shit.

  “I’m more of a Riesling girl, myself, but if I had to pick between those two, I’d go with the Malbec over the Cab.”

  I straighten, the familiar voice an unwelcome and unexpected sound, like nails on a chalkboard. I don’t have to turn around to know that Ainsley is behind me. I also don’t need to turn around to know that she’s striking her signature pose: arms crossed, one hip cocked out to the side, her lips pursed, and her nose crinkled, like she just smelled something gross. It’s the same pose she used to strike in school whenever she was being a typical popular girl, and it’s also the same way she stood when I told her I thought we should break up. Like I said, signature pose.

  Since the last thing I want is to think about Ainsley while I’m having dinner with Lizzie, I put the Malbec back on the shelf and decide to go with the Cabernet and drop it into my cart.

  “Well, I hope she’s a dry wine kind of girl,” Ainsley continues. Not in the mood for her antics, I turn to face her, doing my best to keep a straight face when I see she is indeed standing exactly like I thought she would be, a shopping basket hung over her arm. I let out a long, exasperated sigh.

  “What do you want, Ainsley?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she says innocently. “Just saw you browsing the wines and thought you must be planning a pretty big night. Since I’ve never seen you drink anything other than beer, I figured you could use a second opinion.”

  “I’m doing just fine on my own, thanks,” I say, and she rolls her eyes.

  “Oh, I’ve heard all about how well you’re doing. It’s all anyone can talk about at the salon. You know how people love to gossip,” she says. She takes a few steps toward me, a sly smile spreading across her face as she adds, “I heard you took her out on the boat. Remember when you took me out on the boat?”

  I inhale sharply. Of course I do, although I don’t remember actually getting out onto the water. In fact, I distinctly remember wanting to take Ainsley out on the boat, as I’d just recently gotten it, but the moment she set foot on the deck, it became pretty clear she had things other than sailing in mind. She’d dragged me into the small cabin and... well, that had been the extent of our boat trip.

  I clear my throat. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

  Without asking, she reaches into my cart and picks up the pack of steaks, and raises her eyebrows. “Wow, you’re cooking for her? I don’t even think I knew that you could cook.”

  “Look, Ains, it’s really none of your business.”

  She flicks me a sharp, dagger-like look and puts the steaks back into the cart. “Calm down, Cam, I have no interest in you cooking for me. I do, however, feel that as your friend, I have an obligation to be honest with you.”

  “Oh, we’re friends now?” I ask. Considering how she laid into me at Ryan’s the other night, in front of the entire bar, I never would have thought she considered me a friend.

  Ainsley shrugs. “I just think you should be careful, is all,” she says. “I would hate to see you get your heart broken again by Elizabeth Quinn.”

  “Well, thanks for your concern, but it’s really not necessary,” I say, trying to push past her. In typical Ainsley fashion, she stands in front of me, not letting me pass. Knowing Ainsley, I’ll need to wait until she’s said her peace before I can go on with my life. I put my hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m listening.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest, smirking victoriously. “Elizabeth left once, Cam. There’s nothing stopping her from leaving again. I just think you shouldn’t expect too much, or you’re going to get hurt.”

  “Trust me, I’m not expecting anything,” I say.

  “You say that, but I know how devastated you were when she left the first time. And I know you think she can do no wrong, but she’s selfish. She did what was best for her then, and she’ll do it again, with or without you.”

  Ouch. Okay, as unfairly as I may have treated Ainsley in the past, she’s really swinging below the belt.

  “Like I said, I appreciate your concern, but it’s really none of your business,” I say, hoping she gets the message that I am done with this conversation. She cocks an eyebrow, as if to say, message received.

  “Fine,” she says sharply. “Just don’t come running to me when she’s gone and you’re in that dark place all over again.” She puts a hand on her hip and turns dramatically on her heel, marching away from the wine aisle. I wait until she is out of eyesight before I let myself exhale.

  I try to shake off Ainsley’s negativity while I purchase the items in my cart and head back to the house, but when I pull into the driveway, I realize there’s suddenly a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that wasn’t there before. Ainsley’s words had planted a seed of doubt within me, and every intrusive thought about whether I could do it, whether I could eventually convince Lizzie to stay, watered that seed until it grew into knotted, twisted vines that messed with my head, and my confidence.

  I know that I’ve got my work cut out for me if I’m going to convince Lizzie to stay in Rocky Point, but I’m up for the challenge. I let her get away once, and I won’t make the same mistake again. Screw the past, screw the gossip, and screw Ainsley’s negativity, I’m going to make it happen.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Elizabeth

  ANY UPDATE?

  I’d gotten the text message from Whitney first thing in the morning, and wanted desperately to blow it off. Truthfully, work was the least of my worries, not with everything going on. I texted her back that I still needed more time, but she didn’t respond. I figured it was for the best. Gran’s doctor had done a CAT scan, and determined the deterioration in her brain was progressing faster than expected. We could expect continued confusion and disorientation, and further memory loss, most likely eventually leading to a diagnosis of Alzheimer’s Disease. The news had been a blow to both Cheryl and I, who had both rushed over to Golden Acre’s at the doctor’s request only to be met with the bad news. He’d sent me on my way with a packet of papers and pamphlets, suggesting I educate myself the best I could on what to expect of Gran’s condition in the coming months.

  Still not wanting to face the inevitability that I would lose Gran from my life almost as quickly as I’d gotten her back, I find it nearly impossible to read through the treatment options. Then again, I’ve been stuck in the kitchen for so long, first talking with the plumber, then going over paperwork with the lawyer, and now this, that I wonder if I just need a change of scenery. I move to the attic, thinking I can just mindlessly sift through boxes and bins for a little while, and give my brain a break. Two hours later, though, I’ve only made it through one box and somehow f
eel even more exhausted than when I started.

  My cell phone buzzes, indicating that I’ve received a text message, and my heart sinks. It’s probably Whitney, finally firing me because she’s had enough of my indecision. I pull it out and inhale a deep breath, but then freeze when I see the name across the screen.

  It’s from Cam.

  My heart rate picking up, I open the message.

  Cam: We still on for tonight?

  A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. With everything going on, I had forgotten about Cam’s invitation for dinner tonight. The thought is both anxiety-inducing and exciting, because I could definitely use the break and the company, but something tells me it won’t just be a dinner between friends.

  Me: Absolutely

  I hit send before I have too much time to think about it or chicken out. My phone buzzes almost immediately after, Cam’s name popping up on the screen again

  Cam: My house. 7:30.

  I reread the text a few times, my heart thumping in my chest. A text with his address follows, and I pop it into the GPS app on my phone to see how far away it is, and am relieved to see that it’s only a few minutes away. That means I still have plenty of time to get ready, select and outfit, and give myself a pep talk so I don’t head screaming for the hills.

  I pull up to the address Cam sent me right at 7:30, and let out an awe-filled sigh as I take in the house before me. Like most of the houses in Rocky Point, it’s a traditional Cape with cream-colored siding and freshly painted maroon shutters, a matching maroon door sitting front and center. The high pitch of the roof is covered in new, dark gray shingles, a tall, red brick chimney sticking out from the right side. The driveway, smooth and glossy from recently laid asphalt, extends up to an attached two-car garage, inside which I can spot Cam’s pick-up truck. Off of the driveway, large slate rocks form a whimsical path through the manicured, dark green grass, lined with tulips of every color and leading up to the front porch. The porch itself is framed by flower beds that extend all the way around to the side of the house, and a swing hangs by two thick, metal chains from the wide gabled roof, covered in a plush maroon cushion. It’s strange to picture Cam owning a house, especially one that looks like it’s been plucked right out of a fairy tale. It makes me curious as to how the inside looks.