“It’s in evidence,” Matt said sheepishly. “I had to ask her about it. Jay, I’m sorry. Delaney really screwed you both over. I never knew about the baby.”
Jay dropped his head into his hands and squeezed tightly. He wanted to block out the doubts and the anguish swirling around inside his mind.
“For what it’s worth,” Matt continued, “she was genuinely broken up. I got the impression she thought you’d gone off the grid and weren’t coming back for her.”
His emotions were in the same tailspin as his sister’s, and Jay couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was feeling. Could it all have been a simple misunderstanding? One facilitated by Delaney?
“Where is she now?” he asked through his hands.
“Boarding her plane, I imagine.”
Of course she was. She may have been genuinely broken up but not enough to stay with him. She was in love with the baby’s father. Madly in love. Charlie’s words tumbled around in his head. Was his sister telling the truth? Or just something she wanted to believe?
Matt sighed again. “I need to be on a plane back to DC here soon, too. I just wanted to drop off this note she left for Charlie. Bridgett was really concerned about her.” Matt dropped a folded-up square of yellow legal paper into the chair next to him before clapping him on the shoulder. “Text me when you’re back in Baltimore and we’ll grab a beer, okay?”
Jay nodded. Reaching over, he picked up the note Bridgett had written for Charlie. His eyes scanned the handwriting. Something wasn’t right.
“Matt!”
His friend stopped and turned around. “This note is from Bridgett?”
“Yeah.” Matt took a step back toward him. “Why?”
“You physically saw her write this?” Jay demanded, his voice echoing loudly in the hallway.
“I did, Jay. What gives?”
Jay unfolded the note, not seeing the words, just the smart, neat handwriting that was slanted in the direction of a left-handed author. Bridgett was left-handed. How could he have not recognized that in the Dear John letter? The letter Bridgett obviously didn’t write. Rage suddenly blinded Jay and he swore violently. And loudly.
His mother stood at the doorway of Charlie’s room admonishing him. “Jay!”
But Jay had Matt shoved against the wall, his arm braced against his chest. “You go to wherever the hell they’re holding that bitch and tell her I hope she rots in prison! Because if she ever gets out, she’ll spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, wondering when I’m going to pay her back for this stunt. And I will pay her back, Matt. Count on it.”
Matt was relaxed against Jay’s hold. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back on this one, my friend.”
He released Matt and took a step back as he struggled to get air through his lungs. Jay saw a security guard out of the corner of his eye and held his hands up at chest level. “We’re good,” he said despite the fact Jay wasn’t good at all. Thirteen years he’d lost with Bridgett. His chest ached at the thought.
Jay reached down and picked up the note he’d dropped on the floor. His mother stared at him wide-eyed and he kissed her on the cheek before going back into Charlie’s room. She was quiet on the bed, her eyes red rimmed and swollen. Jay leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. “You were right,” he whispered. “I’ve messed this all up. But I’m going to find Bridgett and work it out.” He gently wrapped her fingers around the note.
“Jay,” her soft voice called after him just before he passed through the door. “Don’t screw it up.”
• • •
It was seven thirty in the morning by the time the cab pulled up outside Bridgett’s condo. She was exhausted from flying cross-country all night and it was hard for her to believe she’d only been gone two weeks. As she trudged up the stairs to the third floor, she wondered how she’d live through the next two weeks. And the weeks after that. She’d been a fool to think she wouldn’t fall in love with Jay again. Hell, she’d been a fool to think she’d ever fallen out of love with him in the first place.
But she couldn’t stay with him. Not when she couldn’t give him what he really wanted. He’d promised to give her everything she ever wanted. The problem was the only thing she wanted was his heart. And, thanks to Delaney, he’d never trust her enough to give her his love again. Bridgett’s only hope now was that she could survive walking away from Jay a second time.
“You did it once and you didn’t shrivel up and die,” she reminded herself as she dragged her suitcase down the hall toward her door. She’d just have to erect that protective shell again, reestablishing herself at work and settling for being the dotty old aunt to her nieces and nephews. Bridgett unlocked the door and wheeled her bag into her foyer. The sound of the kettle whistling made her freeze in terror. Her heart squeezed in her chest when Jay stepped out of her galley kitchen.
“Just in time,” he said as though it were perfectly normal for him to be standing in her living room, looking weary and rumpled in charcoal slacks and a black Blaze golf shirt. “Your tea is ready.”
She stood and gaped at him as he reached behind her and pushed the door—her door—closed. “What—? How—?’ Bridgett glanced around her apartment. “How did you get in here?”
Jay dragged his fingers through his already mussed hair. The lines fanning out from his eyes were a little deeper this morning. “Simple. Gwen let me in.”
“Gwen?”
“Mmm,” he said. “I’m on the hook for providing an exotic locale for her fortieth, but that shouldn’t be too hard.” Jay smiled and his dimple nearly did her in before panic gripped Bridgett yet again. “Charlie?” Surely his sister hadn’t suffered another emergency.
“She’s going to be just fine, thanks to you.”
Bridgett released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. His smile never wavered, and those eyes of his were hypnotizing her. She shook herself. It was just exhaustion from a four-hour layover in Chicago. Damn it, how was she going to get over him if he kept showing up when her defenses were down?
“You shouldn’t be here,” she snapped. “You wasted a trip.” She stomped into the kitchen and snatched the screaming kettle off the stove, wanting to scream herself. After reading his letter, Bridgett had barely been able to get on that plane last night, and now she was going to be forced to kick him out of her home. She wasn’t sure she could do that. Her hand shook as she poured, splashing hot water on her finger. “Ouch!”
Jay was beside her instantly, taking the kettle from her hand and turning on the cold water before he placed her finger under the stream. Moving behind her, he took a half step forward so that her body was cocooned in the warmth of his. The familiar scent that was uniquely Jay teased her nostrils, making Bridgett’s breath catch in her chest. She desperately wanted to lean into him and make him forget that he hated her. Maybe she could survive a loveless relationship after all.
His lips found the sweet spot beneath her ear. “I’m sorry.”
Bridgett let her shoulders relax but nothing more as she turned off the water. Jay’s embrace didn’t waver, though, and she was left with her back pressed to his chest.
“I’m sorry for what Delaney did to you. To us,” he whispered. “I swear she’ll be paying for it by spending the rest of her life in prison.”
She slumped back against him and his arms wrapped around her more fully as he nuzzled her neck. “I won’t be sending her any fan mail,” she said.
Bridgett felt his chest rumble before his lips pushed beneath her blouse to trail along her collarbone. “Not unless it’s laced with something noxious.”
They stood like that for several long moments, each one soaking up the familiar feel of the other’s body, and Bridgett thought that maybe—just maybe—everything would be okay. Until Jay ruined it.
His breath fanned her ear. “I meant what I said in the letter.”<
br />
Of course he had. Only Bridgett could no longer give him the children he’d written to her about. She tugged his hands away and stepped out of his embrace. Slowly, she turned to face the man she loved so much. Who, it turned out, returned her love. At least until she told him the truth. He’d run back to his beautiful vineyard then. Her gaze locked with his and she watched as the hope there faded into wariness.
Bridgett sucked in a steadying breath. “I can’t give you what you want.”
Confusion replaced wariness. “And what is it that you think I want?” Jay gripped her elbows, pulling her in closer. “Besides you.”
Getting the words out was harder than she thought. It was a secret she’d never shared with another soul. Bridgett blew out a breath. “I can’t—I can’t give you children.”
The room was silent for a long moment as both their breathing stilled. “And why is that?” he asked eventually.
“I know you think I—I got rid of our baby, but believe me, I would never throw away a part of you.” The tears she’d been shedding for days began to flow again, and Bridgett couldn’t seem to make them stop.
Jay placed two fingers beneath her chin so his eyes met hers. “I was fed a bunch of misinformation, Bridgett. I know now that most of it was wrong. Tell me what happened.”
The profound calm with which he spoke to her spurred her to continue.
“I was afraid to tell anyone I was pregnant, so I didn’t go to the doctor right away. I don’t know if they would have been able to tell that early anyway, but I always wondered . . .” She thought of Charlie blaming herself earlier and Bridgett cringed. It was so easy to make the fault her own. “The pregnancy was ectopic. By the time I realized it, it was too late. The rupture caused scarring on my uterus. I’ll never be able to carry a baby to term.”
His arms were around her before she finished her explanation. She shed more quiet tears while Jay hugged her fiercely. His lips brushed the top of her head as he spoke. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there with you. Jesus, Bridgett, I’m sorry that you’ve had to live with this alone for all these years.”
Jay kissed her then. It was a tender kiss—one filled with remorse. “I love you, Bridgett,” he said when his lips finally left hers. “I fell in love with you that first day when I found you stuck in the mud. My appointment wasn’t with Vincenzo DiSantis. It was at another vineyard. But I brazened my way in there because I didn’t want to have to say good-bye to you yet.”
She gasped in surprise as a tenuous happiness began to build inside her.
He remained somber, his unwavering eyes practically boring a hole in her. “Now you listen to me, because this is finally the truth. I don’t care if your uterus is scarred or if you’re missing a limb or you have some wasting disease. I love you just the way you are. I always have. And I want to spend my life with you, for however long that is. You fill me up and make me whole, Bridgett, and I’ve spent the last thirteen years trying to feel whole again.” He kissed her again soundly and Bridgett’s body began to grow warm. “I lied yesterday when I said this was a business deal. I was just fooling myself. I don’t want to live without you. Please, tell me you feel the same.” The last part came out as a whisper and Bridgett’s tenuous happiness exploded into the real thing.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, managing nothing more than a nod before his lips found hers again. Before she knew it, they were a tangle of naked limbs in her bed. The autumn sun streamed in the window as they slowly and reverently made love to each other. Afterward, they lay intertwined—whole, as Jay put it—and Bridgett couldn’t hold back the question that nagged at her.
“Why do you think she did it?” she asked as her fingers traced a pattern on Jay’s chest.
He sighed wearily. “I wish I knew. Blake and I were never unkind to Delaney. I think some people are just inherently mean. I don’t think I wanted to see it in her.” Jay squeezed his arm around her. “You have no idea how sorry I am.”
Bridgett rolled onto his chest and placed a finger on his lips. “Don’t apologize for wanting to believe the best about someone. It’s a very noble trait to have.” She nuzzled his chin.
But Jay remained still beneath her. “Except I didn’t believe the best in you.”
She peered into his blue eyes, which were damp with apology. “I never understood why you thought I would abort our child,” she admitted.
Jay reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a worn letter from his wallet. Bridgett sat up against the pillows when he handed it to her. Her hands began to shake and her body grew cold as she read the words.
“I didn’t write this.”
He kissed her shoulder and then her cheek before letting his lips hover next to her own. “I know that. Now.”
Bridgett couldn’t help the sadness that seeped into her body. “We lost all those years because of one messed-up woman.”
Jay rolled on top of her. “In business it’s called cutting your losses and making up for lost revenue. That’s what we’re going to do.” The look he gave her was nothing short of toe curling. Bridgett gave him a wily smile of her own as the heat of his gaze melted away the sadness.
He was leaning down to kiss her when a loud pounding sounded at the door.
“Yoohoo! Bridge, it’s me, Gwen.”
Bridgett groaned. “Oh my God, she really knows no boundaries.”
Jay nibbled at her lower lip. “Ignore her. I have her key, remember?”
“Clearly, you don’t know my sister that well. She’ll stand out there all day until we let her in. She’s taking the divorce pity a little too far if you ask me.”
He reached back over to the table, this time to grab his cell phone. Jay punched in a text and then tossed the phone back on the table.
“What are you doing?”
Jay grinned slyly. “Wait for it.”
“Italy!” Gwen screeched from outside the door. “That’s a perfect birthday spot! See you two later. Much later.” And then she was gone.
“Now, where were we?” he asked before his lips found her breast.
“We were about to kiss and make up. Again.”
“Oh yes, I remember now. We’ve got thirteen years to make up for, Bridgett,” Jay promised as he slid into her. “I hope you’re ready for some serious long-term negotiations, counselor.”
Turn the page for a sneak peek at the second book in Tracy Solheim’s Second Chances series
ALL THEY EVER WANTED
Coming from Berkley Sensation in January 2016!
When he was ten years old, Miles McAlister meticulously and very thoughtfully planned out the remainder of his life. Sitting in the tree house his father had built for him and his four siblings, Miles had put pen to paper and scratched out his future as he saw it: Eagle Scout, All-state track star, high school valedictorian, Duke University, Rhodes Scholar, law school, politics, and, most importantly, President of the United States. Twenty-three years later, he’d revised that list a time or two to include a few things a fifth grader might not have envisioned—like losing his virginity at the national high school debate conference or delaying law school while he backpacked through Europe with his girlfriend. But overall, he was well on his way to executing his carefully mapped-out existence nearly verbatim.
Until life had thrown him a curveball. More than one, actually.
His two brothers and two sisters—as well as the majority of the people in his hometown of Chances Inlet, North Carolina—had dubbed him ‘The Ambitious McAlister’ with good reason, however. Nothing was going to interfere with the goals he’d set all those years ago. And that was how he found himself on the expansive wrap-around porch of his mother’s popular bed-and-breakfast stoically enduring the June heat. With its railings draped in red, white, and blue bunting, a dewy pitcher of lemonade on the wicker side table, and his brother
’s golden retriever snoring at his feet, the Tide Me Over Inn afforded Miles the perfect backdrop for wrestling back control of what he perceived to be his destiny.
The inn had been his mother’s pride and joy for four years now. She and Miles’s father had painstakingly restored the 1894 Victorian to all its original splendor, turning it into one of the premiere B and Bs on the Atlantic coast. Situated among lush gardens and centuries-old trees, the sprawling twenty-room home was also walking distance to the ocean and the historical town of Chances Inlet. The B and B’s picturesque location, along with a bevy of championship golf courses in the area, guaranteed that the Tide Me Over Inn’s ten guest rooms were booked nearly year-round. Today being no exception. A crowd milled about on the verandah scrutinizing Miles’s every move.
The late-day breeze blowing inland off the ocean felt refreshing amidst the wilting humidity so typical of the coast. Miles resisted the urge to tug at his shirt collar as the wind gently lifted the skirt of the woman seated in front of him. Rather than fix her hemline, though, she shifted her long legs suggestively, affording him an unobstructed view of a nicely toned thigh, her skin shimmering with perspiration. The smile she gave him lacked even a trace of innocence, however; instead it was outright daring. But then, she wasn’t the one with the television cameras trained on her.
“Just a few more questions, Miles. They’ll be painless. I promise.” Tanya Sheppard, a blue-eyed, bleached blonde former beauty queen who masqueraded as the political reporter from one of Raleigh’s affiliate stations, was clearly enjoying her position of dominance in their interview. Miles was sure it was payback for ignoring the hotel keycard she’d slipped into his tuxedo pocket during last year’s Governor’s Ball.
Pushing out a breath, he forced himself to relax against the old-fashioned glider he sat in. The guests always raved that the damn things were so comfortable, but to Miles the chair felt like he was contorting his six-foot-one, muscular body into the shape of a paper clip. His dress shirt stuck to his back where it was pressed up against the metal chair. He ignored the discomfort, though, bracing himself for whatever questions Tanya decided to throw at him next. They both knew she had been lobbing softballs for the past fifteen minutes.
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