by Rachel Hauck
The cat lifted her head and purred while Holly scratched under her chin. “Nice home you got here, Shadow.”
The feline gave her a haughty look that said, It’s no less than I deserve.
“Quite right.” More chin scratching.
She hadn’t heard from Josh since their outing to the caterer. She hadn’t expected to. Yesterday, he would have left town for Ben’s bachelor party.
He didn’t live in Martinsburg. In fact, Josh had only returned to Martinsburg eighteen days ago. So it infuriated her that she was so strongly aware of his absence this weekend. Everywhere she went felt devoid of excitement. The colors muted. More lonely. Why? Because she knew that he wasn’t here anymore.
“This is why I can’t get any more twisted up over him than I have already,” she told Shadow, whose eyelids were drooping closed. “The time I spent with him has messed with my head enough.”
Meow, Shadow said. Which Holly translated to mean, Get a grip, girl.
“Get a grip is precisely what I need to do. I’m going to leave here and go home and write like the wind. I’m really . . . I’m just going to pour out some great, great pages that will keep readers up late into the night. I left my heroine in a den of cutthroats with nothing but her rapier for defense in order to come here, you realize. Now I need to go home and rescue her.”
Shadow cracked one dubious eye.
“Have I given you enough socialization?”
The cat gave a terrific stretch, which meant she wanted more petting. “Fine.” Holly stroked her family’s cat and reminded herself that this was how she spent her weekends. This was her destiny.
Was this really his destiny?
Josh sat in the driver’s seat of a golf cart, watching one of Ben’s college fraternity buddies hit a drive. The twenty guys on the trip hadn’t been content with eighteen holes. They’d played eighteen this morning, stopped for lunch, and were out on the course again for another eighteen. To be honest, he’d far rather be discussing asynchronous JavaScript and XML with one of his programmers. “Nice shot.”
Another of Ben’s friends moved toward the tee box.
In the distance, Josh could see Ben putting on the green. It had been satisfying to watch Ben and the others enjoying the weekend, despite that he felt like a spectator to their fun rather than a participant.
He’d been in an irritable mood since the day he and Holly had last gone to the caterer’s. After their conversation, he’d made himself wait a day so that he could organize his thoughts and emotions before calling his mom. She’d confirmed everything Holly had told him and reiterated all the reasons Holly had voiced. She’d even gone so far as to tell him that she’d always felt guilty about the grief she’d caused him and Holly.
She’d expected both him and Holly to rebound and start dating again after their breakup, she’d said. They’d been eighteen years old. She’d thought that they’d recover faster than they had. She’d apologized to him and asked him to pass along her regret and heartfelt best wishes to Holly.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, rubbing the side of his thumb against it.
Despite his mother’s good intentions when she’d asked Holly to end things with him, there was no possible way that she could ever fully know what it was she’d screwed up. She’d viewed his relationship with Holly the way most parents probably viewed the relationships of their teenage children, as light and passing and juvenile.
He and Holly were the only two people who knew how much they’d loved each other. And only he knew the scars Holly’s loss had left on him.
None of them were completely without fault. He’d been shortsighted to want to leave MIT. His mom had been wrong to take matters into her own hands. And Holly should have told him about his mom’s visit the day it had happened.
Did he fault Holly the most, though?
No. Back then, his mom had been a forty-five-year-old woman armed with a mother’s fierce protectiveness of her only child. Holly had been a college freshman living apart from her family for the first time. He understood why she’d been swayed, and he believed her when she told him she’d done what she thought best for him.
It was going to take practice to think of Holly without the bitterness that had accompanied his thoughts of her for so long. But it also felt right to try. She’d explained and apologized. He’d forgiven her.
Who’s to say, anyway? The way things had happened might actually have been the best thing for him. He’d built his company into the stuff his dreams had been made of.
Josh adjusted his Nike ball cap, slanting it lower.
He hadn’t needed Holly to shop for rehearsal dinner locations with him, nor to visit his caterer once, much less twice. She’d been humoring him. He’d made up something about visiting the Olive Oil company next week, solely so that he’d have another reason to see her. She’d turned him down. Even so, when she’d whispered that it had taken her a long time to get over him, stupid hope had gripped his heart.
He hadn’t planned to say anything to her, that day or any day, that would make him vulnerable to her again. But he’d asked her if she’d gotten over him eventually.
She’d looked at him with that painfully beautiful face, her dusky blue eyes kind, her skin clear, faint pink on her cheekbones, a long strand of glossy, light brown hair falling in front of her shoulder. Instead of saying not yet or any other answer he could have worked with, she’d said that she had. Gotten over him.
He wished he could say the same for himself.
Her words, spoken in the sweetest possible way, had hit him like a slap because they’d shown him just how different her emotions were from his own.
Josh’s passenger pushed his driver into one of the bags strapped to the back of the cart and took his seat. Josh drove them toward where he’d hooked his ball.
He was here for Ben. In Texas during the month of November, and also on this weekend trip. It frustrated him that he couldn’t seem to think about anything except Holly, the woman he’d been trying not to love for eight years. He was weary of trying not to love her.
He wasn’t someone who gave his trust and affection easily. He had a cautious personality, a tendency toward solitude, and just a few close friends and family members. He was powerfully self-controlled.
Was. Because none of that held true around Holly. When he was around her, he wanted to buy her things, and take her places, and hold her in his arms. He’d cared about her more than she’d cared for him all those years ago. And he cared about her more again now. What was his problem?
His problem was that she was his weakness.
He’d succeeded at a lot in this life. How could it be that he’d failed, and was continuing to fail, at not loving her?
For weeks, Sam had been telling Holly that Rob liked her and that it was only a matter of time before he made his move. Late on Sunday afternoon, he finally did.
When she heard the knock on her door, Holly immediately thought, Josh? Even though Josh had never knocked on her door and wouldn’t even know where to find her apartment. She answered the door in a state of breathlessness.
She found Rob standing in the hallway. He had a Thor vibe going, what with the muscles and the long blond hair. He’d paired a white T-shirt with a pair of those baggy pants that chefs favored. His white coat lay folded over his shoulder.
“Hey,” Holly said. Of course it wasn’t Josh. She had no reason to feel let down. “On the way to work?”
“Yeah. Since it’s Sunday it’ll probably be slow. I’m thinking I’ll be done around nine-thirty.”
“Cool.”
“Would you like to meet me afterward at Vinnie’s for dessert?”
Whenever she and Rob had gone places in the past, they’d gone in a group that included Sam. Sometimes Mr. Perfect or one of Rob’s buddies joined them. “Sam and Mr. Perfect are shopping at Pottery Barn in San Antonio today.” Which is pretty much how Holly imagined young married couples without kids spent the bulk of their time.
“I know.” He gave her a cute I-was-hoping-to-get-dessert-with-you-alone smile.
“Oh. Well.” Her thoughts darted in five nervous directions. “Sure. You know me. I never pass up a chance to eat Vinnie’s chocolate pie.”
“Good.” He turned on his heel. “I’ll text you.”
“ ’Kay.”
Holly spent the next hour pacing her apartment. Josh had asked her to go with him to the Olive Oil Company and Rob had asked her out for dessert. Two men had issued invitations in the space of a week. Single, handsome men! Instead of elated, however, the invitations—one she’d turned down, one she’d accepted—had left her feeling troubled.
She grabbed her coat, scarf, hat, and reversed her Miata from its parking space. Twenty minutes passed before she realized she’d driven by many of the places where she and Josh had spent time together during their romance. She’d taken herself on a Josh Memory Tour without meaning to.
At the Brenners’ house, she and Josh had sat inside Bryan Brenner’s Jacuzzi during Bryan’s graduation party. Green light had illuminated the still, hot water surrounding them. She could remember how Josh had looked, staring at her through the steam.
A bank and a 7-Eleven now occupied the plot where Josh’s apartment building had once stood. She could taste the microwave popcorn, seasoned with paprika and parsley, that had been his mom’s specialty. They’d eaten it while watching X-Men DVDs in the small living room.
Their high school hadn’t changed in any way, except for the new sign out front. Josh had first said I love you to her on one otherwise normal day during the spring semester of their senior year. They’d been in the hallway together. The bell had already rung and kids had been hurrying past them. She and Josh had been about to part and go in opposite directions when he’d pulled her back to him.
“I love you,” he’d said. And he’d said it with the most solemn seriousness, as if he’d been unable to wait another minute to tell her, as if he was about to be shipped overseas to fight a battle, as if he was dying. And Holly had felt like she was dying, too, except from bliss and lack of oxygen because he’d stolen all her breath.
Then he’d smiled a crooked smile at her. She’d known she loved him before he’d said the words. But it was that crooked smile there in that school hallway that had settled the matter in her heart.
Sam would definitely not approve of her Josh Memory Tour.
Sighing, Holly turned onto the road that wound past a park and picnic area at the edge of Lake Cypress Bend. The sun had just set but full darkness hadn’t yet descended. She parked and went to sit on top of a vacant picnic table.
The bulbs on the light posts glowed through the hazy evening, making their illumination appear soft, round, enchanted. Several families dotted the area, some at the playground, some at the lakeshore or on the dock, fishing. Everyone had bundled up to ward off the chill. The children’s voices carried on the same breeze that spun leaves from their branches.
She and Josh had sat here, on this exact table, numerous times. This had been their spot. Sometimes they’d come here to eat. Sometimes, just to hang out and talk. She’d sat here with him, her head resting on his shoulder, contentment weaving circles around and around her. She could recall how he’d kissed her, and how her body had rushed in response with the joy and awe of it.
A twig cracked behind her and she swung to face the direction with a gasp. Josh?
The twig had been broken by two kids, kicking up leaves.
Rob just asked you out. Your neighbor and friend, Rob, who is a very decent person and good-looking to boot. Think about Rob, Holly. Think about Rob.
Holly came to understand, in very clear detail, why Sam scorned the idea of waiting by the phone for a man to call. Sam scorned it because living that way stunk.
Even though Holly knew Josh wouldn’t call, she took her phone with her everywhere. It was ridiculous. Josh had no reason to call her. He no longer needed help planning the rehearsal dinner.
Nonetheless, when she slipped into bed at night, she rested her cell phone within arm’s reach on her bedside table. She double-checked it frequently throughout the day to ensure that it was charged and prepared to receive a text message or a call from Josh.
Neither came.
She looked for him when she drove around town and each time she entered a shop or restaurant, without success.
Her rational mind knew that remaining separate from him was the best possible thing for the preservation of her well-being. Her irrational heart, however, couldn’t get over the fact that she’d never again have this sort of proximity with him. Josh’s time in Martinsburg was vanishing.
The days leading up to Thanksgiving, beautiful days gilded with autumn, should have been too full to dwell on Josh. Her wedding coordinator duties had kicked into fourth gear thanks to Mitzi’s astonishing doggedness. Her work on her book had intensified too. Like a round stone that had topped a rise and begun to roll downhill, her plot was picking up speed. She had blog posts to write for her website and marketing to catch up on.
In pursuit of their Year of Restaurants quest, Holly and Sam hit Martinsburg’s only Indian food joint and then the most girly sandwich/salad/soup restaurant the town had to offer.
Holly and Rob’s dessert date had gone smoothly. In fact, it had been much like their group outings, minus other humans. There’d been chocolate pie, but no romantic feelings on Holly’s part. Rob had asked her out again afterward, but since she didn’t know how she felt about more one-on-one dates with him yet, she’d declined.
The day before Thanksgiving, Holly’s immediate family (and her sister’s fabulous new boyfriend) poured into Martinsburg. In tandem with their arrival, great, low-lying banks of clouds rolled over central Texas and coated the town with a steady drizzle. The precipitation escalated on Thursday to rain that alternated from light to downpour.
As was their tradition, the Morgans sat down together in their family home for a formal Thanksgiving meal of turkey and all the fixings, served on Holly’s mother’s Lennox wedding china.
Afterward, they gathered in the living room in front of the fireplace. Holly’s dad coddled the fire into snapping peaks of flame. The smell of pumpkin pie hung in the air and football played on TV. Drowsy from the tryptophan she’d just consumed, Holly daydreamed about where Josh might be spending the day while the rest of the family engaged in their two most popular pastimes: cooing over Holly’s older brother’s gorgeously chubby toddler and revering Holly’s younger sister for her pursuit of a law degree.
The only member of the family not present? Shadow. The cat had hidden under Holly’s parents’ bed in mute protest of the invaders who’d overtaken her residence.
Late that night, Josh was fighting insomnia and thinking of Holly, when a sudden suspicion slid into his mind. He sat up in bed, paused for a few seconds to think, then dashed aside the covers.
He hoped he was wrong. He really hoped he hadn’t overlooked something so important. Surely, he hadn’t.
In his plaid pajama pants, he padded down the stairs of his rented house into the kitchen. His laptop waited on the granite counter. Scowling, he pulled up his assistant’s final guest list document for the rehearsal dinner.
He scrolled down the list of alphabetized names. The tile floor chilled the soles of his feet and cold air blew across his bare back.
Holly wasn’t listed. She’d spent hours driving over the Hill Country with him to look at locations. She’d shared advice and ideas with him. All for a rehearsal dinner he’d forgotten to invite her to. She hadn’t mentioned his oversight to him the two times they’d gone to the caterer. She’d remained quiet and polite about it while helping him pick out the menu, for pity’s sake.
Josh blew out a breath, disgusted with himself.
It had occurred to him, after that night at Das Lokal when he’d told her he’d booked the Olive Oil Company, that he needed to ask his staff to double check the guest list, and if she wasn’t on it, to mail Holly an invitation. He�
��d made a mental note of it. Planned to do it. But the list in front of him proved that he hadn’t followed through.
He’d been distracted and forgetful lately. He’d been distracted and forgetful because his mind was so occupied with Holly.
The rehearsal dinner would take place tomorrow night. He straightened, pushing both hands into his hair as he stared down at the glowing screen.
He was a jerk. A jerk who needed to make things right.
Chapter 8
“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Chapel said to Holly the next morning, as she accepted her coffee through the door. “Did you remember to put in one and a half packets of sugar?”
“I did.”
“I’m in need of some Bengay for my poor back. Would you be able to pick some up for me later, do you think? If you wouldn’t mind?”
“I wish I could help you, but I’m not going to make it to the store today. My family’s in town so I’m spending the day with them before the wedding rehearsal up at the church.”
“Speaking of the big wedding, Doreen told me that someone else is playing the organ.” Mrs. Chapel pinched her lips and shook her head disapprovingly.
“That’s true.”
“She said that you brought her caramel corn to help her recover from the slight.”
“Also true.”
“Good girl.” She gave a decisive nod, her rheumy eyes regaining their twinkle. “And don’t you worry about the Bengay. I’ll shame my younger sister into buying it for me.”
“No one’s more of an expert at shaming than you are, Mrs. Chapel.”
“Why, thank you!”
Holly moved toward her apartment.
“Some things were delivered for you while you were getting coffee,” Mrs. Chapel called after her.
“Oh?”
“By a handsome man.”
Holly shot her a questioning look.
“I think he’s still there,” the old lady whispered, loudly enough for passersby on Main Street to hear.
Holly walked around the hallway corner and found Josh—Josh!—leaning against the wall next to her door, an array of items covering her doormat. He pushed to standing at the sight of her.
