The Only One (Sweetbriar Cove Book 3)

by Melody Grace

  THE BAR WAS CLOSED by the time Riley made it back. He unlocked the side door and headed to his apartment upstairs. He’d moved in off the boat after the first cold snap that fall. For all his love of that tiny cabin, he loved central heating more, but that night he found himself wishing he was back out in the harbor—frost and all. At least on his boat, there wasn’t any room for someone else. Here, he couldn’t help wishing there was someone curled beside him in front of the fire, or tucked up in his king-sized bed, stealing the blankets and taking up space.

  He put the tea kettle on the stove and flipped through the stack of mail on the counter, pausing when he found a postcard from his brother.

  412 DAYS, he’d scrawled in big black letters.

  Riley winced. Max had stopped bugging him to sign the settlement papers—and started sending these weekly reminders instead, marking off just how long Riley had been dragging his feet on the paperwork. Over a year now. Any other case, and his opponent would have run screaming to the judge long ago, or blown up the settlement and started from scratch. But Tate wouldn’t risk it. Not with the kind of money on the line he had coming. He clearly had decided to wait Riley out, however long it took for him to move on.

  And Riley had nothing but time.

  Literally.

  Riley paused a moment, thinking over that simple phrase. What did he have going on? The bar ran itself these days; he just needed to call in orders and check that his bar staff weren’t drinking all the profits. He’d been restless for months now, but he’d chalked it up to things with Brooke, and wanting something he couldn’t have.

  Now he wondered, why the hell was he stuck there, just killing time?

  He turned the postcard over in his hand. The deal gave him a stake in Tate’s new company. He didn’t have to hold onto it—he could sell at any time. He’d always planned to keep it, though—keep that control hanging over his former partner’s head, as payback for everything he’d done.

  But Riley wanted to just be done with it all. The settlement, Tate, every reminder of the whole damn mess. He’d been pretending like it didn’t exist, but that hadn’t changed anything. They were all still waiting for him to make his move. And him?

  He was sitting in an empty apartment above an old bar that barely paid rent.

  Who the hell was he kidding anymore?

  Riley went to the desk in the corner and dug out the paperwork. Fifty-plus pages of dense legal writing they’d fought and bickered over, and spent months hammering out. Years of his time and effort, and love, too, poured into that company. He’d wanted to keep hold of it for as long as possible, but who was he hurting here?

  Not Tate. He’d already moved on to another flashy, high-paying gig, living it up as a king in Silicon Valley. Riley was the one stuck in limbo, waiting for Brooke to move on from her own past, when he couldn’t even put pen to paper on his own.

  What could he do if this was already over?

  Riley seized a pen from the cabinet and scribbled his name on the first page before he could take it back. There were a dozen sticky tabs dotted throughout the document, and he tore through them all—signing over and over, until he reached the last page, and it was done.

  He took a breath. He’d expected to feel different, somehow, but instead, he just felt foolish. He’d let this drag on long enough.

  It was time to start something new.

  24

  “. . . N ow, visualize a place you feel safe. Happy. Hold that feeling with you, and come back to the room.”

  Brooke blinked awake to find herself sitting in the middle of the yoga studio, surrounded by the rest of the motley assortment of lunchtime meditators.

  “Great session, everyone!” their teacher—ahem, spiritual guide – clapped her hands. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  Brooke folded her mat and slipped her shoes back on, retrieving her phone from the basket out front. Eliza called just as she was getting in the car, and Brooke switched her to speaker, turning onto the highway back to the hotel.

  “How’s life on the higher plane?”

  Brooke laughed. “Pretty peaceful, and this plane seems quiet, too. So far.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve stuck it out.” Eliza sounded admiring. “I took one look at those healing crystals and knew I couldn’t keep a straight face.”

  “Aww, it’s not so bad. The teachers are kind of kooky, but it’s a great group. And it’s important to take some time out from the hotel, just for me.”

  “Brooke Delancey, poster child for work-life balance, who would have thought?”

  Brooke grinned. “Not me.”

  She’d had her doubts about the place when she’d started, but after a month of lunchtime sessions, she could already feel the difference. A moment to zone out and collect her thoughts let her juggle everything at work with a clear head—and she was finally sleeping through the night, too.

  “How’s Boston?” she asked. Eliza was back in the city working at the newspaper, but from her sigh, it wasn’t going well.

  “The subway broke down this morning. I spent forty-five minutes pressed up against some guy’s sweaty armpit.”

  “Was he at least cute?” Brooke asked hopefully.

  “Would I be complaining to you if he was?” Eliza countered. “Anyway, I have this killer deadline looming, I think I’m going to drive down to the cape tomorrow and hole up at my parent’s house. Ooh, we should go out!”

  “Sounds great, but what about your deadline?” Brooke smiled.

  “I need inspiration,” Eliza declared. “I think a bottle of wine and some clam chowder ought to do it.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Brooke said, turning up the hotel driveway. “Give me a call when you get here.”

  She rang off, and turned up the collar on her coat to make the dash inside. The weather had turned to brisk fall winds, but even without their summer tourist trade, the hotel was booked solid all the way through the New Year. Inside, they were decorated in the warm autumn hues, with pumpkin centerpieces, and a roaring fire in every fireplace, inviting guests to linger with blankets and a book.

  Today, she found Ash Callahan waiting on one of the couches, scrolling through his phone. “Ash,” she exclaimed, hurrying over. “I’m sorry, I thought we were meeting at three. I was just at an appointment,” she added, fumbling to explain. “It was my lunch break, and—”

  “Please.” Ash waved away her apology. “I know the importance of taking some time out. Although, with a newborn, it usually means a nap.”

  “How’s Noelle doing?” Brooke asked, taking a seat.

  “Tired. But we’re loving it. And I’m loving the fact you have everything under control here.” He looked around, smiling. “I feel like I should be doing something, but you’re running this place all on your own.”

  “I have a great team,” Brooke corrected him, not wanting to take all the praise. “And to be honest, I don’t need to do anything to get the bookings these days. The phone is still ringing off the hook with calls from all over the world, and we have a waiting list a mile long. I even got an email from a woman in China today, offering to hold her wedding on any free day we had for the next two years!”

  Ash chuckled. “I wonder how her fiancé feels about that.”

  “It turns out, Lila didn’t even need to say ‘I do’ for it to be the most famous wedding of the year,” Brooke noted. “We probably got more press from the disaster than if she’d actually gone through with it.”

  “Did you ever hear from her?” Ash asked, looking curious. “My brother is an actor, Blake, and he says she’s disappeared from Hollywood. Nobody knows where she went.”

  Brooke shook her head. “I’ve read the rumors, same as everyone. Someone said she was off in the Caribbean somewhere, or having plastic surgery in Brazil. I hope she’s OK, wherever she is.”

  “The Cartwrights certainly don’t.”

  They exchanged a look. As predicted, Bitsy had caused a fuss, threatening lawsuits and all kinds of retri
bution, but then suddenly, the angry calls had melted away. Last Brooke knew, Justin was gearing up for that political bid of his—with a new blonde girlfriend at his side.

  “Well, whatever you’ve been doing here, keep it up,” Ash said with a smile. “And let’s talk in the New Year about your future plans. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already had headhunters sniffing around from the big luxury chains.”

  “Well . . .” Brooke said, flushing. As soon as the dust settled after the wedding, they’d started calling—everyone from the head of events at the biggest chain hotel on the planet to the most exclusive wedding planning agencies. She couldn’t start to think about making another big change in her life, so had politely turned them down, but she had to admit it was nice to be asked.

  Ash saw her bashful expression and laughed. “Don’t worry, they’d be fools not to. But I’d love to keep you. Here, or at one of my other properties. You can have your pick.”

  Brooke paused, flattered. “Thank you. I haven’t thought about leaving, we’ve been so busy here.”

  “Why don’t you think about it, and we’ll talk?” Ash got to his feet. “Now, do you think I can convince the chef to rustle me up a steak? We’ve been living off frozen casseroles at home.”

  “I’m sure the boss can persuade him.” Brooke waved him off. A promotion to one of his other, bigger properties? Brooke should have been excited at the idea, but as she looked around the familiar lobby, she felt settled, and at home. She’d been building a life here on the Cape, with a routine, friends, and even—gasp—hobbies. It felt like she was finally back on solid ground, after a year of the ground shifting beneath her feet. It had taken time, and work, but she finally felt like herself again, the way she’d glimpsed when she was with—

  But no, she wasn’t thinking about him. Brooke busied herself with upcoming wedding event plans for the rest of the day, then drove the short distance home. She changed quickly into running gear and a warm vest, and then took off along the beach path, letting the crisp afternoon air chill her lungs and set her heart pounding.

  She ran every other day now, slowly increasing her pace. Maybe she’d try for a half-marathon one of these days, or maybe she’d just keep enjoying the way it felt to tumble into her bed at the end of a day and fall into deep, uninterrupted sleep. And for those few miles, her footsteps pounding on the worn dirt path, she finally allowed herself to think about Riley.

  She missed him.

  It was such a simple thing, that little ache she felt every time she thought of him, but it lingered, no matter how much she tried to put him out of her mind. She wanted to pick up the phone, just to talk late into the night the way they’d done in the beginning, or to curl up in her courtyard with a cup of tea, sharing stories in the dark. And his kisses . . .

  Brooke flushed, running faster as she remembered the nights with him, that tangle of pleasure, and how free she’d felt, letting go completely in his arms. She hadn’t tried dating since him, she hadn’t even wanted to try. But every time Eliza gently broached the subject, Brooke just thought of the way she’d felt with him and knew, somehow, that it would never be the same. She could try and find some other man, but Riley was one of a kind.

  The one-of-a-kind man who had come to her, wanting a real relationship, and she’d turned him down flat. Even now, Brooke wondered if she’d done the right thing. Taking the time to get over her breakup was one thing, but late at night, alone, she found herself craving him, thinking maybe it didn’t matter if she was still figuring out her life, not if she got to have him back again . . .

  Brooke looped around and headed back for home. She’d made the right decision, she knew that in her bones, but she also knew that didn’t make the regrets just disappear. And now that her life made sense again, those regrets had a way of whispering louder.

  She’d told him she wasn’t ready.

  But when would that be?

  BROOKE WAS SWEATING HARD by the time she let herself back into the courtyard. She’d done three miles. Maybe next time, she could try four.

  “Hi.”

  Brooke startled at the voice, almost tripping on the stairs.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” her visitor continued. “I should have called, but . . . I wasn’t sure if you’d even want to talk.”

  Brooke stared at the woman waiting outside her apartment—a face she’d never expected to see again.

  It was Julia—Archer’s wife.

  “How . . . How did you find me?” Brooke asked, her heart still racing from the run.

  “My lawyer tracked you down.” Julia stood there, in a crisp winter coat and bright-red scarf. She looked better than when Brooke had seen her last, standing tall and confident. “Would you mind talking for a moment? I won’t stay long.”

  “I . . . sure.” Brooke’s heart sank as she climbed the stairs and unlocked the door. What did Julia want with her? In an instant, all her old shame and guilt came rushing back. How could she have so easily forgotten what she’d done to the other woman? Brooke’s heart had been broken, but she’d torn Julia’s whole life apart.

  Julia followed her into the apartment and looked around. “It’s a nice place,” she said, and Brooke swallowed.

  “Thanks.” She’d decorated, piece by piece, until it was a warm, bright space filled with art and textiles, an old record player in the corner, and plant pots spilling greenery down the window ledge. “Can I get you something to drink?” she offered, still uneasy. “I have tea, or coffee . . .”

  “Bourbon?” Julia noticed a bottle on the shelf, and Brooke blinked.

  “Why not?”

  She fetched the bottle down and poured two glasses. She sat opposite Julia at her small dining table, and took a gulp.

  “You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” Julia started, turning her tumbler around in her hands. “Don’t worry, it’s not to blame you for the collapse of my marriage.”

  “You have to know how sorry I am,” Brooke said anxiously.

  Julia nodded. “I know,” she sighed. “The truth is, I did hate you, for a little while. It was easier to be angry at you than at Archer. You know, after I confronted him with everything, he broke down, begging me to stay. He swore you were an evil temptress who’d set out to seduce him.”

  Brooke’s jaw dropped open.

  “I didn’t believe him,” Julia added quickly. “Although, a part of me wanted to. To just put all the blame on you, and move on. But, I know my husband. Soon to be ex-husband,” she added. “And I could tell you had no idea what was going on.”

  “I didn’t,” Brooke said quietly. “I wish I had, that it had been different, but . . .”

  “Shit happens.” Julia took a long gulp of bourbon. “Anyway, I’m divorcing him. I filed papers a few months ago.”

  “I figured,” Brooke said, putting two and two together. “He showed up here, begging for me to come back. I told him where to go,” she added.

  Julia shook her head. “He can’t bear it, being alone. He always needs someone to adore him. It would be sad if he wasn’t such a bastard.”

  “Agreed.” Brooke lifted her glass, and Julia clinked it in a rueful toast.

  “He wants a no-fault divorce, but I’ve decided to take him for everything he has,” Julia announced, looking more cheerful. “Would you mind if I named you in the proceedings? You’d only need to give a statement, explaining how he lied, how long the affair went on. I know you probably don’t want to go digging through it all again, but my lawyer says it would help.”

  “Of course,” Brooke agreed. “Anything you need. I’m just so sorry it all turned out this way. Really, I feel terrible.”

  “Don’t.” Julia reached across the table and patted her hand. “I’ve been down that road—the guilt, and the blame, and all the wondering if I should have seen the signs. It nearly drove me crazy.”

  “So what changed?” Brooke asked. “You seem so . . . calm.”

  “Well, I had a lot of therapy.” Julia cracked
a smile. “And yes, I’ll be billing him for that, too. But I realized I have my life back now. All the things I sacrificed to support his goals, his career, I have a chance to do it on my own. So, I’m going to Europe for a while, taking the trip I always wanted. And then . . . who knows?” Julia shrugged. “But this time around, it will be what I want.”

  “That’s great,” Brooke said, feeling a little envious. Julia seemed to have emerged from the wreckage with more freedom and poise than she could have imagined. “You deserve it.”

  “And so do you.” Julia got to her feet. “I mean it. I know you loved him, and it must have hurt like hell to find out that was a lie, but don’t let him hold you back, either.”

  “I want to move on,” Brooke admitted. “I just can’t get over what a fool I was, believing in him.”

  Julia gave her a sad smile. “We both did. But that’s on him, not us. For what it’s worth, I forgive you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Brooke showed her out, and wished her luck with her travels, closing the door behind her. Julia seemed to have found exactly what she needed to move on, but Brooke still felt those treacherous chords from the past, tugging her back when she wanted nothing more than to sever them for good.

  What would it take to move on? More time? More building a life she could be proud of? Brooke had thought she was getting there, but deep down, she still didn’t quite trust herself. Trust her heart to make the right call next time, and know that the way she felt wasn’t just in vain.

  Maybe it wasn’t Julia’s forgiveness over Archer she needed.

  Maybe it was time to finally forgive herself for loving him.

  25

  Brooke was still thinking about Julia’s parting words the next day, when Eliza picked her up for dinner.

  “She just showed up?” Eliza blinked when Brooke told her about the unexpected visit. “That’s ballsy.”

  “She seemed . . . happy. Or at least, determined,” Brooke said, remembering the glint in Julia’s eyes. “I’m glad. I hope she wins out in the divorce.”