Along Came You (Oyster Bay Book 2)

by Olivia Miles

  Oh, for God’s sake. Bridget looked over at Mimi, who seemed nothing short of bewildered.

  “Were you ever going to tell me?” she finally asked.

  “Oh, of course! It was never my intent to steal the little guy. I just wanted to get to know you.”

  Bridget half expected Mimi to tell him where to go with this bold idea, but instead, she patted her lap, and smiled brightly as Pudgie settled himself in. “Well,” she said. “You have me here. Now what do you have to say for yourself?”

  The man could barely contain his excitement. “It’s Bingo night in the community room. Care to join me?”

  Mimi demurred only long enough to pat her hair. “I suppose I could. But I’ll need to check my calendar first.”

  Bridget shook her head as she led Emma out of the room, holding her by the hand.

  “Are they going to kiss and get married?” Emma asked.

  Bridget pulled in a breath. Her grandmother had married at eighteen, and still kept a framed photo of her husband on her nightstand, almost thirty years after his death. She’d been a youngish widow, Bridget realized now, looking back, and in all that time, she’d never dated, never expressed any interest in anyone but her son and his wife, and of course, Bridget and her sisters. And later, Emma.

  And now, all these years later, she’d opened her heart. At least for a night of Bingo. Maybe there really was a second chance for everyone.

  Or at least, the possibility of one, she thought, thinking of Jack. And J.R. Anderson. And the fact that somewhere, underneath it all, they were the same man.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was a beautiful day for a wedding. So beautiful, in fact, that some might call it perfect. The sun was shining and the sky was blue and all of their closest friends and family were gathered in the tent, watching Margo and Eddie take their first dance.

  Bridget smiled a little sadly as she watched Eddie give her sister a twirl, eliciting a wave of cheers from the crowd.

  She didn’t know why she felt the tug in her heart. Maybe it was because her parents weren’t here to witness the moment that their middle daughter finally found her happy ending. Or maybe…maybe it was because she couldn’t help but wish she’d found hers.

  She reached for her champagne glass and took a small sip. Emma was curled up in the chair beside her, her flower girl dress slightly rumpled, and the wreath of pink flowers askew in her hair. She was already falling asleep, no doubt crashing after her two slices of wedding cake.

  Yes, the old Bridget would have twitched over this, but today, Bridget didn’t have the heart to get anxious over small things, or small joys. Emma enjoyed a carefree night. They both did.

  Spontaneity, she decided, could be a good thing, even if it didn’t always end the way you hoped. Sometimes life’s little surprises were moments of light, and laughter, and happiness, even if they were fleeting.

  All the more reason to treasure them, she thought.

  Bridget was giving serious consideration to getting a second slice for herself when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She froze, her breath catching as her heart began to pound, wondering, against all rational thought, if it was Jack. If he’d come back, even if she hadn’t heard from him since he left the inn more than a week ago, and why should she? She shouldn’t even want to, considering…

  She turned, oh so slowly, and felt her heart sink a little when she saw her Uncle Chip standing above her, holding out a hand. “Humor me with a dance?”

  “Oh, Chip.” Bridget smiled. “I’d love to.”

  She took his arm as they walked to the dance floor, where he led her into a classic box step, reminding her of all the times she’d danced exactly this way with her father, but never at her own wedding. Instead she’d eloped, given up the chance to be walked down the aisle, to have her father give her away…

  She felt her eyes mist with regret.

  “Everything okay, Bridge?” Chip asked, tipping his head.

  “Just…sentimental.” Her smile felt watery. “I’m happy for Bridget. I just, well, I can’t help wondering where I went so wrong.” She paused, wondering if she should ask Chip the one question that had always been on her mind.

  “Why didn’t you ever remarry, Chip? I mean, you’re sweet, funny…”

  “And handsome?” He laughed, but there was hurt behind it. He shrugged. “I guess you could say that I didn’t need to. I had something perfect, even if it was only for a brief amount of time. And when it was over…Well, it couldn’t be replaced.”

  “She broke your heart,” Bridget said, thinking of the way Chip’s wife had run off, leaving him with two young girls, all those years ago.

  “She stole my heart. Maybe she didn’t deserve it, but, well, that’s how it is.”

  “You didn’t want to try again?”

  “Didn’t see a reason to. I had my girls. My restaurant. You lot.” He pulled a face that made her laugh. “My life is full.”

  Bridget nodded slowly. Her life was, too. So full that sometimes she felt she couldn’t add one more thing to her list, one more responsibility to her day.

  But there was something missing. And she hadn’t realized it until now.

  “And you? What’s your excuse?”

  Bridget laughed. Only Chip could be so blunt, and God she loved him for it. She squeezed him a little tighter, so grateful for his presence in her life. “I have a daughter. And an inn. And Mimi. And my sisters.”

  “They’re all taken care of,” Chip said, and Bridget realized that it was true. Somehow things had fallen into place. Margo was married. Mimi had found not just Pudgie, but a new companion. And Abby…had found her passion. And followed her heart.

  “Emma will grow, and she will leave.”

  Bridget scowled at him. “Gee, thanks.”

  “I’m just saying what’s true, and I speak from experience. Look at my two spread out over the country,” Chip said. “Just don’t shut yourself off to the possibility of a second chance. Promise me that.”

  Bridget sighed. “You know I can never say no to you.”

  “Good, because I believe there’s someone else who wants to dance with you, and I insist that you take his offer,” Chip said, jutting his chin as he released his hold on her.

  She looked at him, startled, but all he could do was wink and whisper, “Remember what I said about second chances…”

  Bridget’s heart was pounding as he backed away, grinning ear to ear, and she was left alone on the dance floor. But not for long.

  She turned, hoping it was Jack almost as much as she didn’t dare to hope at all.

  And there he was. A champagne flute in each hand. A sheepish grin on his face.

  And for not the first time in a long time, Bridget dared to believe again.

  ***

  Well, she hadn’t run. Jack took this as good news. Still, she wasn’t smiling either. Instead she was looking at him in confusion, or surprise; he couldn’t tell.

  He pulled in a breath. He’d come here. Taken a chance. Crashed another damn wedding.

  It was time to finish the job.

  “I didn’t realize you were on the guest list,” she said, and he appreciated her attempt at lightening the mood. Bridget, ever hospitable, ever sweet…

  It was why he’d come back. Why he never should have left in the first place.

  “In all fairness, I waited until after dinner was served,” he said, grinning, but she didn’t return the gesture.

  Right. Of course. Why should she? He’d lied to her; by omission, but still. He’d kissed her. More than once. And despite everything he’d said about not believing in romance or love, he’d lied about that too. Because he did. Now.

  Thanks to her.

  “I know you have no reason to trust me,” he said.

  “No,” she said. “I don’t.”

  Right. Of course. Jack nodded. He could leave. Turn around. But it couldn’t end here. Not like this.

  “And I know you have no reason to believe me when I sa
y that I do believe in all those things. Romance. Love.” He motioned to the bride and groom, gliding across the dance floor.

  “Why now? Why suddenly?” she said.

  “Because of you,” he said honestly. “Because being here, in this house, letting someone in…it felt good, Bridget. And it’s been a long time since I’ve felt that good.”

  She nodded, slowly. “I understand,” she softly. “I…felt the same way.”

  “And it’s scary,” he admitted.

  “It is,” she said, looking up at him, her blue eyes so earnest, that he knew he’d been right to come. To take a chance. To try again.

  “I don’t want to mess this up,” he said. “I don’t want…to go back to the way I did all those years ago. I don’t want to be disappointed. Or hurt. Or to feel like I somehow failed someone else. And myself.”

  She took a step back, but that urged him forward. “And I don’t want to walk out of here the way I did last week and go back to that empty apartment, and know that I have no reason to getup the next day. I don’t want to be alone anymore.” He pulled in a breath. Going back to that life, now that he’d dared to try again, made it almost worse than it had been the first time around.

  “But I do want one thing,” he said, looking her square in the eye. This was it. It all came down to this moment. She could take him or leave him. Tell him to go home. Not long ago he wouldn’t have even come this far. He had to go for it.

  “What’s that?” she said.

  “You, Bridget. I want you.”

  ***

  Bridget knew the music could be playing, or it could have stopped. A toast might be being made, or everyone at the party may have gone home. She didn’t notice any of it. All she could see right now was Jack, and the way he was looking at her, and remember every word of what he’d said. Then…and now.

  He held out a glass of champagne to her. “What do you say we start over, right from the beginning?”

  “And how would that go?” she asked. She needed to know. She needed to be sure this time.

  “You’re asking J.R. Anderson how the story would end?” He grinned.

  She swallowed hard. “I’m asking you.”

  He nodded, and set the glasses down on the nearest table. “I can’t tell you that. That’s the scary part. It’s…what’s kept me from trying again, and it’s what almost cost me this.” He reached down, took her hand, and against all her reservations, she let him take it.

  “So no promises then,” she said, but she couldn’t fight the smile that was forming when he took a step forward, reaching for her other hand, his gaze never leaving hers.

  “Just one,” he said, pulling her to give her a long, slow kiss.

  Her heart was beating fast when they broke away, looking up into his dark, intense eyes that didn’t show any sign of looking away. “What’s that?” she asked, but she had a feeling that one promise was all she needed.

  He grinned as he pressed her against him. “I never start a story I don’t end up finishing,” he said. “It may get rocky, it may even feel stalled at times, but I see things through. And I’m here to stay.”

  “I always knew this town would grow on you,” she said through her happy tears.

  “You grew on me,” he whispered, as he leaned in to kiss her one more time, just as the music swelled.

  Also by Olivia Miles

  The Oyster Bay Series

  Feels Like Home

  The Misty Point Series

  One Week to the Wedding

  The Winter Wedding Plan

  The Sweeter in the City Series

  Sweeter in the Summer

  Sweeter Than Sunshine

  No Sweeter Love

  One Sweet Christmas

  The Briar Creek Series

  Mistletoe on Main Street

  A Match Made on Main Street

  Hope Springs on Main Street

  Love Blooms on Main Street

  Christmas Comes to Main Street

  Harlequin Special Edition

  ‘Twas the Week Before Christmas

  Recipe for Romance

  About the Author

  OLIVIA MILES writes feel-good women’s fiction and heartwarming contemporary romance that is best known for her quirky side characters and charming small town settings. She lives just outside Chicago with her husband, young daughter, and two ridiculously pampered pups.

  Copyright © 2018 by Megan Leavell

  Published by Rosewood press

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, locations, events and incidents (in either a contemporary and/or historical setting) are products of the author’s imagination and are being used in an imaginative manner as a part of this work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, settings or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.