“It’s hard to believe it was ever successful with a name like The Last Chance Motel.”
“From the 1950s until well into the ‘70s, if you were on your way to the Blue Ridge Parkway from the main road, this motel was your last chance for a room.”
Evan supposed that made sense. “I didn’t realize the Blue Ridge Parkway was that old.”
“They started building her in 1935 over on Cumberland Knob, so I’d guess you could call her ‘old.’” Doyle rested his crossed arms on the top of the rake handle. “I’ve always treasured old things. I guess that’s because I am one.”
Evan had no idea how to answer that. “That’s all very interesting, but do you happen to know Je—"
“Yup, I lost Gertrude right there,” Doyle said as if he hadn’t heard Evan. “I came to see Barbara after our argument and found her standing at the end of the dock. I thought she was reflecting on our life together, but nope, she was staring down at poor Gertrude and was still mad as a wet hen.”
Despite being impatient to find Jess, Evan couldn’t keep from asking, “Your car ended up in that pond on purpose?”
“Barbara said she accidentally left Gertrude in neutral and didn’t realize it. But I don’t know.” Doyle scratched the white whiskers on his chin, the sound surprisingly loud. “Barbara wasn’t the sort of woman you should cross.”
“I’d be furious if that happened to one of my cars.”
“It was just a car. To be honest, Barbara had a right to be mad. I was young and stupid and said some things I shouldn’t have.” The old man’s eyes twinkled. “We don’t always make the best decisions when we’re young and stupid, do we?”
The old man couldn’t possibly know why Evan was here today, but the question, rhetorical as it was, felt oddly pointed. “Whatever happened, I’m sorry to hear about Gertrude.”
Doyle flickered a sad smile toward the pond as if he could still see someone standing out on the dock. “I miss my wife a heck of a lot more than I ever missed that car.”
Evan’s chest tightened. The last two weeks had given him a brief look at life without Jess, and it was hollow and colorless. He’d lost his appetite completely and hadn’t been able to sleep more than a few hours at a time, their king-sized bed cold and empty. But it was even worse to think about Jess being really gone, forever out of touch. “No.”
The old man’s pale blue gaze locked on Evan. “Pardon me?”
Evan flushed. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “I’m sorry about your wife. They become a part of us in a lot of ways.” Sometimes in ways you don’t even realize. The need to see Jess was suddenly that much stronger. “I’m looking for Mrs. Jessica Graham. Do you know where she is?”
“Graham?” Doyle leaned on his rake, his brows knitting. “Don’t know any Grahams.”
Evan frowned. “She has to be here. She owns this motel.”
“Oh. You must mean Miss Jessica Cho.”
Evan bit back a string of invectives. Jess is already using her maiden name. I haven’t even signed those stupid papers yet! His gaze dropped to his hand where his wedding ring glimmered in the late afternoon sun.
He suddenly realized Doyle was watching, so Evan forced himself to shrug as if he hadn’t just been emotionally gut punched. “Jessica Cho. That’s her.”
“She’s in the office.” Doyle slanted a curious look at Evan. “I guess you knew her when she was married. Whew, that man must have been a piece of work, to let a woman like Miss Jess go.”
“Maybe it wasn’t up to him.”
“Baloney. If he’d wanted to keep her, he’d have found a way to do it, just as I found a way to make things right with Barbara.”
Impatient, Evan looked at the office. The windows and doors of the motel had been replaced, although only the office door had been painted. It was Jess’s favorite color, a teal blue, the word OFFICE written across the frosted upper glass in welcoming yellow script.
Their house in Atlanta had touches of teal here and there, but until this second, he hadn’t realized how much he’d associated that color with Jess.
It hit him that he’d been quiet for far too long, so he turned to say goodbye to Doyle, but only a wide expanse of empty, cracked parking lot met Evan’s gaze.
The old codger must have wandered off, which was just fine with Evan. There was only one person he wanted to talk to, and it wasn’t Doyle Cloyd.
Evan adjusted his silk tie and walked toward the lobby, pausing when he caught sight of the rake leaning back beside the door, where it had started. How had that old man replaced the rake without Evan seeing him? That’s odd.
Shaking off an uneasy feeling, Evan reached the lobby door. The second he stepped inside, he forgot about the rake. As broken down and worn out as the exterior of the motel was, the lobby was as luxurious and inviting as any high-end boutique hotel in New York or even Paris. The floor was a dark, gleaming hardwood. A mahogany check-in counter stood across from him, topped with a thick slab of Carrara marble that gleamed under hand-blown red pendant lights. The lounge area to his left featured a sumptuous leather settee flanked by two heavily stuffed red chairs and a thick oriental rug. Every surface suggested bespoke opulence and left Evan feeling as if he’d walked onto a movie set rather than an old, already-dead motel.
“Evan?”
The low, honey-toned voice hit him like a ton of bricks. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath before slowly turning around.
Jess stood in the doorway behind the counter, her long black hair pulled into a ponytail that hung over one shoulder, her copper-framed reading glasses low on her nose. Holding a spreadsheet and a red pen, she wore jeans and a faded blue UNC-Asheville sweatshirt, her hazel eyes wide with surprise.
God, but I’ve missed her so much. He’d known that, of course, but seeing her made him realize yet again the depth of aching loneliness she’d left behind.
Her surprise melted into a frown. “What are you doing here?”
His heart thumping an odd gait, he managed a grin. “Surprise, Sunshine!” When they’d first gotten married, he’d called her Sunshine more than Jess.
She apparently didn’t care for the reminder, because a flicker of irritation crossed her face before she turned away, moving past the desk. Her hip brushed a file perched there, knocking it to the floor. Papers scattered everywhere and she gave them a quick, impatient look, but made no move to gather them, instead locking her exasperated gaze on him. “Why are you here?”
That was less than welcoming. He wished he could call her tone “warm,” but there was enough ice in it to cut. “I came to see you.”
“Evan, no.” She dropped her spreadsheet and red pen beside the family photos that surrounded her computer. “I don’t want to see you. Not yet.”
His gaze moved to her left hand. No rings shimmered on her finger where they belonged, which made his chest ache anew. He moved his gaze back to her face. “Come on, Jess. We have to talk. Face-to-face and not on the phone.”
“I told you last night that I don’t have anything more to say.” She started collecting the papers that had been knocked to the floor. As she stacked them back on the desk, he noticed that her hands trembled the slightest bit.
He wished he knew how to take that—was it a good sign? A bad sign? He wasn’t sure. Damn, when had he lost the ability to read her? Maybe I never could.
At that depressing thought, the now-familiar wave of uncertainty gripped him, the same one that had held him since the moment he’d seen those stupid divorce papers.
That was the problem with being the one left behind. It put a dent in one’s confidence that matched the size of the person who’d walked away. And although Jess was barely five feet tall, she had a personality as big as a mountain.
“I should have known you’d come anyway.” Looking suddenly weary, Jess slid the papers back into their folder and returned them to the desk.
“I didn’t have a choice. Our phone calls weren’t getting us anywhere.” I came because I h
ad to see you. Because there are things I need to say but can’t find the words. Because I miss you so badly that my chest aches just being in the same room with you.
But no. Blurting all of that out would just send her running. He couldn’t afford to blow this. He took comfort from the weight of the jewelry box and tickets where they rested in his pocket. Easy, Graham. Remember, you have a plan. “I had business in Asheville and figured that, since I was nearby, I might as well take a look at your project.”
“I’ve been working on this place for months and you never once bothered to visit.”
“That was my mistake. One of many.”
Her gaze locked with his. For a second, he thought he saw a waver, but then she shook her head. “I don’t need your opinions anymore.”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “For what it’s worth, I think this lobby is something else.”
She glanced around, her expression softening. “It turned out even better than I’d hoped.”
“This area is amazing. Especially after seeing the outside.”
“The company I hired for the exterior will start in two weeks. They’ve already put in new doors and windows. Next, they’ll put in the trim, paint the exterior, and redo the sidewalks and parking lot.” She waved her hand. “And all the rest.”
“If it looks as good as this lobby, it’ll be something else.”
Her eyes warmed, and she gave him a reluctant, if stiff, smile. “Thank you.”
He wanted to reach across the counter, pull her over it, and into his arms. He’d give up every car parked in his garage for just one brush of her lips over his. Before he could stop himself, words he hadn’t yet meant to say tumbled out. “Jess, I don’t want this divorce. I don’t want to live apart. I want you back and I’ll do anything I ha—”
“Stop!” Flushed, she moved back from the counter.
It was a tiny move, a half step and no more, but it felt to Evan as if she’d just run back across a heavy drawbridge and slammed it closed behind her. His throat tight, he had to swallow before he could speak. “There are things I would do differently, Jess. So many things.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Like?” As she spoke, she readjusted the reading glasses, which had slipped even lower on her nose.
God, how he’d missed seeing her do that. Seeing her reading glasses always so precariously perched on her nose used to annoy him. So had the way she’d left her shoes under every table, and how she’d used her headphones to talk to her family in what seemed like an endless one-sided conversation that he was never a part of. What a fool I was.
Her mouth thinned impatiently. “Great. You can’t name one thing you’d do differently.”
He could name a hundred things, and he had the evidence in his pocket. But it would be unromantic to just pull out the gifts he’d brought and throw them down on a cold, marble counter.
He needed to take control of this situation. “Jess, what can it hurt if we sit down and discuss things? At the worst, we’re right where we are now, ready to sign our lives away on matching pieces of paper. And at the best, we figure out what went wrong and find ways to keep it from happening again.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not going back to Atlanta.”
“I’m not asking you to. Not now.” He spread his hands wide. “I just want to talk. That’s all.”
Her expression softened the tiniest bit. For a wonderful and hopeful moment, he thought she was going to agree.
But then she shook her head. “It won’t help. I tried to talk to you for years and you’ve never listened, not even a little. I’m done, Evan. Have a nice drive back to Atlanta.” With that, she sat down in the chair, spun it toward the desk, and picked up her spreadsheet.
He stared at the back of her head, her ponytail hanging well past her shoulders. When they’d been hot-blooded, wildly-in-love college students, there’d been nothing he’d liked more than sinking his hands into her silken hair and splaying it over both of them.
And now she wouldn’t even talk to him.
Was this it, then? Were they finished?
Forever?
He suddenly remembered the sadness in poor Doyle’s face when he talked about his wife being gone. Evan couldn’t accept this was the end for him and Jess. He just couldn’t.
He slipped his hand into his pocket and gripped the jewelry box. “Jess, I’d go back to Atlanta if I could, but my car broke down.”
She looked over her shoulder at him, suspicion clear in her hazel gaze. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m serious. Some guy who looked like Jason Momoa took it to his shop.”
“That’s Trav Parker from Parker’s Garage.” She sighed and spun her chair so that she faced him once again. “Which car?”
“The Jag. It conked out just as I crossed into town, so I’m stuck here until tomorrow.”
“Here? You mean—no. You can’t stay here. There aren’t any hotels close by, but there are several nice B&Bs in town. You can stay at one of those.”
“Not if they have those old, antique beds that—"
“—creak. I know, I know.” Her mouth, which had been so tight, eased with a flash of wry humor. “You’ve always hated those.”
“I’m not a quiet sleeper, as you know. Look, Jess, I don’t have a choice here. I’m stuck, and you have rooms. Ten of them, from the look of things.”
“Yes, but…” She shook her head impatiently. “Take an Uber to Asheville. There are plenty of hotels there.”
“I could. Or I could stay here one lousy night—just one—and then leave first thing in the morning when my car is ready.”
She was beginning to fold; he could see it in her eyes. “I mean it, Jess,” he added softly. “I promise I’ll stay in whatever room you assign me while you’ll be—” he gestured “—wherever it is that you live now.”
She glanced at one of the doors behind the desk. “I had the manager’s apartment redone at the same time as the lobby.”
That was something. They’d be on the same property, at least. It wasn’t much, but it was better than being in two different states. One step at a time, Evan told himself. “What do you say, Jess? Just one night. What could it hurt?”
After a long, painful pause, she let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Just one night and then you’ll go. But you have to promise you won’t try to talk me into going back to Atlanta with you.”
Damn, but he hated making a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. But maybe, just maybe, if he could win one night, then he could win another. And then another.
Patience, Graham. She’s worth it. “Fine. I promise not to belabor our separation, but only if you’ll have dinner with me.”
She frowned. “We have nothing to talk about.”
“No, but we both need to eat. I’ll even let you pick the place.”
She hesitated, and so, for good measure, he added, “Unless, of course, you’re afraid…”
He didn’t have to wait long.
Her mouth tightened. “I’m not afraid.”
“Really? You look afraid.”
That did it. Her chin lifted and her eyes sparkled as she snapped out, “Fine. Dinner. But nothing more.” She opened a drawer and tossed him a large metal key. “Room Ten. It’s nowhere near as grand as the Carlyle, but it’s clean.”
The Carlyle was his favorite New York hotel. It had also been the site of their honeymoon. “There’s no hotel like the Carlyle.” And no woman like you. He took the key and held it tightly, the edges sharp against his palm. “Shall we say dinner at seven?”
“Six. I need to get back early, too.” She opened another drawer, pulled out a small plastic envelope that held a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, and the rest of the necessities. “You’re lucky these sample kits came yesterday.”
He took the kit and flashed his best smile. “Thanks, Jess. See you at six.” Feeling more hopeful than he had in two weeks, he left before she could change her mind.
Evan s
tepped into the late afternoon sun, the door swinging closed behind him, the jewelry box still satisfyingly heavy in his pocket. He looked around the broken and faded parking lot, noting a clump of rather worn dandelions trying to make their way through a large crack in the asphalt. “I know how you feel, buddy. I know how you feel.”
Still, despite Jess’s less-than-warm welcome, his heart hummed with hope as he walked down the sidewalk toward his room. He wasn’t through yet, not by a long shot.
2
Jess
During her twenty-nine years on earth, Jessica Cho Graham had learned many things. She’d learned to trust her instincts as they rarely led her astray, that changes (even good ones) could sometimes be incredibly painful to make, and to never underestimate the power of a well-fitting red dress.
She slipped a jeweled clip into her straight, black hair and then stepped back from the mirror so she could see her entire form, turning this way and that. The short red dress clung to every curve, revealing an interesting amount of cleavage. Take that, Evan Graham. There was nothing quite as satisfying as seeing regret on the face of an ex. It was like caramel buttercream icing on a very delicious chocolate cake.
She hadn’t planned on dressing up tonight, but when she’d returned to her apartment after a quick trip to the bank to file some paperwork for her business loan, she’d found the red dress crumpled on the floor of her closet. She must have accidentally knocked it off its hanger earlier but hadn’t noticed it until then.
She’d picked up the dress, intending to rehang it, but as she did, she’d caught sight of herself in the mirror and had winced at the faded sweatshirt and her lack of makeup. The desire to show Evan she wasn’t just fine without him but was terrific—better than terrific—took hold, and so now, here she was, dressed to kill.
“Or maim. Maiming would be enough.” She tugged the dress down a bit, liking how the V-neck molded over her breasts. If she used the woefully inadequate chart that hung in most doctors’ offices, then she was twenty-one pounds overweight. Fortunately, she liked those twenty-one pounds, every last one. She was healthy and took spin classes three times a week, so she didn’t feel particularly pressed to lose her curves. In fact, just last week she’d gone to see Dr. Bolton about her sleepless nights, and he’d said that, except for some predictable divorce stress, she was as healthy as a horse and to keep doing whatever she was doing.
I Loved You First Page 16
