by Donna Alward
“Look at me,” he said quietly.
She did, and her cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink. She was embarrassed? Oh my. What would she have been like if they’d actually gone to bed?
The idea wasn’t helping deflate the situation at all.
“I said all the wrong things last time. Did all the wrong things. And I know you’re probably in no place to start anything and I’m probably the last person on earth you want to start anything with. But Laurel? What just happened was just about perfect. You’re just about perfect. And I’m gonna go now before I have the chance to mess anything up.”
He stepped away, just a bit, but then leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “G’night.”
This time when he slipped out the door, he closed it behind him and walked to his truck in the darkness.
CHAPTER 6
Sunday night marked the weekly dinner at Laurel’s mom and dad’s. While the Ladybug was open, she set her Sunday hours from ten a.m. to four p.m., so she’d at least have a shorter day. Working seven days a week was going to take a toll, probably sooner rather than later. But things would slow down in September, and she could rest then.
Right now she carried a bag of rolls and a premade Caesar salad from the grocery store—her contribution to dinner. Her mom would have made a homemade meal, but Laurel simply didn’t have time to put together something elaborate to take with her.
Jennie Stone opened the screen door and smiled, and Laurel felt a lot of her tension melt away. “Mom. I hope I’m not late.”
“It’s barely five. There’s time. Come in and sit down. Was the store busy today?”
“Insane.” Laurel stepped inside the bungalow and unless her nose was deceiving her, there was apple pie for dessert tonight. Her stomach growled. She’d managed a bowl of cereal at nine, and a few slices of leftover pizza around one, but she’d spent a few hours unloading a shipment of bagged mulch by hand and she was starving.
Her dad, Mike, was out on the back deck, standing at the grill. “Hey, Pop,” she called out, while putting the grocery bags on the kitchen counter.
“Hey, sweetie.”
She opened the sliding door and went outside, stopping to plop a kiss on his cheek. “What’s cookin’?”
He lifted the lid. “Your mother got me one of those beer-in-the-butt things,” he explained, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m trying my first chicken on it.”
Sure enough, a roasting chicken sat on a beer can, which was held in some sort of metal bracket. It smelled scrumptious.
“Looks good.”
“Thanks. You want a beer?”
She shook her head. “You got anything fizzy? Soda or something?”
“Check the fridge.”
She went inside to check for a can of soda and let out a sigh. There really was no place like home. Not that she’d wanted to live here. She drew the line at that, and she was more than happy to have her own house on the other side of Darling. Still, when she and Dan had been living in Burlington, they’d often made the drive on Sundays to have dinner with her folks, and it gave Laurel a feeling like not everything had changed in the last year.
Her mom had just put carrots on the stove and was peeling potatoes when Laurel went in. “You want any help, Mom?”
“You’ve worked all day. Go sit on the deck and put your feet up.”
She retrieved the soda and kissed her mom’s cheek on the way by. “Thanks for dinner. Is Ben coming?” Ben was her little brother and worked in the governor’s office. She didn’t expect an affirmative answer; Ben was even more of a workaholic than she was. The last time they’d all been together as a family was New Year’s Day.
“I doubt it. He was down in DC last week. You know your brother.”
Yes, she did. And she loved him. But he was on a fast track. It was hard for Laurel not to feel like she was moving backward instead of forward with the recent changes in her life.
She put her feet up as ordered and sucked back most of her soda, the fizzy carbonation easing her thirst. Her dad tended the chicken and they talked about the garden center, the graffiti, and the changes that had happened to Darling over the years. Dinner was nearly ready when her cell rang, the tune of “Ladybug Picnic” chiming through the quiet. Mike raised an eyebrow, making Laurel laugh as she reached for her phone, but her smile faded as she saw Dan’s name come up.
He rarely called her; it must be something important.
“Excuse me, Dad.”
She clicked on the answer button as she descended the back steps. “Hello?”
“Hi, Laurel. It’s Dan.”
“I know. Can you hang on a sec?” She worked her way around the corner of the house to the front yard, where she’d have at least a little bit of privacy. There was a big rock beneath a maple tree, and she went there and perched on it. “Okay. What’s up?”
“I have a favor to ask. But before that, how are you? Are things okay with your family? The business?”
Sometimes she wished they hadn’t stayed friends. A clean break might have been less complicated. Certainly it would have made it easier to move on. But then she knew he was asking because he genuinely cared. “I’m actually at Mom and Dad’s now, for Sunday dinner.”
“I miss those.”
Uncomfortable silence. A snippy remark came to her mind but didn’t pass her lips. She wondered if last night’s confessions had anything to do with today’s impatience.
“And the garden center?”
She crossed her legs, tucking them up beneath her on the boulder. “It’s really busy. And we’ve had a few problems. A break-in and some graffiti.”
“That’s awful!”
She wanted to agree, but pride had her brushing it off. “Oh, you know, it comes with the territory.” She remembered looking over at Aiden last night, in his T-shirt, spending his hours off helping her paint. And then the feel of his body crushed against hers …
It was really weird to be thinking about that while talking on the phone with her ex. She shook away the image and focused on Dan’s voice.
“I’m sorry. You’re probably busy enough without the added stress.”
She sighed. “Well, yes. But you know Darling. People chip in to help. If anything, the break-in drove even more traffic to the store.” That was her. Focusing on the positive. She put her free hand to her forehead. God, even her thoughts were sarcastic today.
“I’m glad. You sound happy.”
She smiled a little. “I am. And tired, but no regrets. I think I did the right thing.”
There was a pause, a pregnant one, where Laurel knew he was trying to figure out what to say next. Or rather, how to say it. Her stomach tied up in little knots. For him to ask a favor and then have a hard time verbalizing it meant she probably wasn’t going to like it.
“Dan, what’s the call really about?”
“I might as well just say it: Ryan and me … we’re getting married.”
Her breath came out in a whoosh. God, she didn’t know how to explain the strange feeling in her chest right now.
The fact that Dan had come out made things easier—and more difficult. On one hand, knowing the truth was almost a relief. The helplessness, the insecurity that came from watching her marriage slip through her fingers without knowing why and what she could do to bring them back, all of that was gone. But the cheating. No matter how often she told herself it wasn’t a typical extramarital affair, it was about who he was on the inside, the fact remained that the man she’d vowed to love and honor until death hadn’t felt the same. That instead of telling her, sharing himself with her, he’d lied. To them both. There was a small part of her that resented the upheaval in her life. She totally got that Dan’s life had made a huge shift, but she’d had to make huge changes, too. It was hard work staying friends. Hell, most of the time she felt like Dan was being really insensitive, expecting her to be okay with it all. Sometimes she wished she’d just broken ties completely and moved on.
But she didn�
��t, because no matter what happened, Dan had been her best friend and was important to her, and he said she was important to him, and she wanted to be supportive. That didn’t mean it was easy. She’d loved him, thought she knew him, had envisioned a future with him. Kids. Trips. Grandbabies.
She’d have to sift through all those emotions later. Dan was still talking and she needed to focus.
“Laurel? You still there?”
“Sorry. I’m here. What were you saying?”
“We’re planning on a June wedding.”
Ah yes. The most popular wedding month of the year. Laurel was now glad that their anniversary fell in September. The symmetry might have been a tad too much.
“I’m happy for you,” she said, trying to sound genuine. “But I don’t know what this has to do with a favor.”
“Well, it’s where we want to get married. We drove down to Darling last weekend. I wanted to show Ryan the Kissing Bridge. And we were thinking it would be a great place to get married. The ceremony will be small, with the Justice of the Peace and a few guests.”
She had to rewind to the beginning. “Wait, you were here? In Darling?”
“Just for a while. We were driving by the exit, and I thought of it, and … well, you know. I always did like the town.”
Yes, he had. And part of her was offended he’d been here and hadn’t stopped to say hello. Another part of her was relieved. And a small part of her resented that he’d intruded on her safe haven, the place that was supposed to be her second chance without him. She’d let him go, but there were times it really felt that he wasn’t offering her the same courtesy.
She let out a slow, controlled breath. “And you wanted to make sure it was okay with me?”
“Well, yes. And…” Another big pause. “Laurel, we stayed friends, right? I mean, you still mean a lot to me.”
They’d had this conversation a hundred times. The truth was, there was no actual falling out of love for Dan. In fact, Dan had maintained throughout everything that he still loved her, just not in an in love, sexual kind of way. More like a best friend. Which explained why, particularly in the last months of their marriage, the sex had felt rather … dispassionate. Like something was off. The connection just wasn’t there.
But she’d loved him. She’d meant her vows, heart and soul. She’d lain awake at night, wondering how to reach the husband who suddenly seemed distant. She’d tried to make their marriage work, and in the end he expected her to just accept that it had never been what she thought it was, and be perfectly okay with being friends.
Laurel liked to think she was a good person. A kind person. But that was perhaps expecting a bit much. It was only the history of their friendship that kept her from letting loose with all her feelings.
“You mean a lot to me, too,” she murmured. “If you want me to be there, I’ll be there.”
She could somehow hear the relief in the brief silence. “Thank you, Laurel. I think somehow we both need your blessing.”
Laurel closed her eyes. Well, bully for them. She thought of Aiden’s shocked expression last night. She could just imagine what he’d say. Fine time to be asking for approval, jackass.
Why couldn’t she just be completely happy for them, unfettered by any lingering feelings? The stupid thing was, she did wish them well. Any heaviness she felt right now was on her, not Dan. Her issues, not his. But goddammit, wasn’t she entitled?
“I’m happy for you,” she said earnestly. “I really am.”
“So this is the part where I ask the favor,” he said.
What? So the announcement and wanting her to go wasn’t it? Her eyes opened and her fingers tightened on the phone, pressing it to her ear.
“What do you want?”
“Well, we’ve checked with the town office and we can have the wedding in the park, by the bridge. The gardens in the park are lovely, or will be by the time everything blooms, but there’s nothing really at the front of the bridge where we’d like to stand. So we were wondering if we could hire you to do some plant arrangements, to pretty it up a bit. Something that we could take back with us and use in the yard. Since you’re familiar with both places … know what I mean?”
Damn. She let out a bitter laugh. “Oh God, Dan. Do you realize how inappropriate this is? That you’re asking your ex-wife to help decorate your wedding site? You do realize that I’m your ex-wife, right?”
“You’re not just my ex-wife, Laurel. You’re more than that and you know it.” His voice actually sounded hurt, and she pressed her fingers to the top of her nose. She was starting to get a headache.
“I know.”
“Will you at least think about it? We’re looking at the second Saturday in June.”
She knew Dan. He’d persist until she said yes, and she would rather not have this conversation over and over again. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”
“Thank you, sweetheart. It means a lot to both of us.”
Sweetheart. It was a meaningless endearment. And suddenly seemed to mean less than the soft, husky way Aiden had said her name last night.
“You’re welcome.”
“So,” Dan asked, his voice lightening. “How’s your love life?”
Her cheeks instantly burned. “Dan, you know the only thing more inappropriate than helping your ex plan their wedding?”
“What?”
“Talking about your respective sex lives.”
“Ooooh. Does this mean you have one?”
They were supposed to be “friends.” But not that kind of friend. Laurel would save those kinds of details for Willow, if at all. “No, I don’t have one,” she answered. One kiss after pizza and too much wine did not make a love life. “And if I did, it wouldn’t be any of your business.”
And calling it one kiss was the understatement of the century, but she’d ignore that little fact for a moment.
“Touchy,” he replied, and she had the urge to reach through the phone to strangle him. “Don’t sit on the shelf too long, sweetie. You’re too good for that.”
He was trying to be helpful and encouraging, but to Laurel he sounded smug. He’d landed on his feet. He was happy and moving on and she was still clawing her way up from the bottom. Worse, speaking to him brought out a side of her she didn’t like very much.
Maybe she’d go home and till up another patch of the yard. So far it was the best form of therapy she’d found.
“Right, right. Well listen, I should go. Mom probably has dinner ready by now.”
“Say hi to your parents. I miss them too.”
“I will.”
“Talk soon.”
Laurel hung up and hugged her knees close. What the living hell? Moving home was supposed to make life simpler. Less complicated. Instead she was headfirst into running her own business, dealing with vandalism and robbery, kissing a man who she was supposed to hate, and suckered into supplying plants and flowers for her ex-husband’s wedding.
“Laurel? You okay?”
Her mom was on the front step, hands on the railing.
“I’m fine. Just a phone call.”
“Dinner’s ready.”
“Be right there.”
And that was a little bit of normal she’d cling to. Her mother’s mashed potatoes and apple pie. At least for the next thirty minutes, things might actually stay the same.
* * *
Aiden parked the cruiser along Main and got out, rolling his shoulders a bit to loosen the tension.
It was Tuesday. He hadn’t seen Laurel since Saturday night. He deliberately hadn’t called, hadn’t stopped into the garden center because he had no idea what to say. He’d half hoped there’d be some news about her break-in, or the graffiti, just to give him an excuse. But there’d been nothing. The problem with the garden center was that it wasn’t really near any other businesses, being just off the highway. No one had seen a thing.
Being back on shift was a relief. He was on until eleven tonight, and a meal at the Sugarbush Family Rest
aurant was just what he needed to fill the hole in his belly and pass the time.
And maybe stop thinking about Laurel. Kissing her had been awesome and a big mistake. She was barely divorced, for Pete’s sake. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was still a mess. He was still attracted to her, but her baggage was a big ol’ red flag. Not just for him, but for her, too. She wasn’t ready.
And Laurel Stone wasn’t the kind of girl he could be casual with. He’d be better off to just leave the situation alone.
Aiden went inside and sat at the lunch counter. He stayed away from the deep-fried food and went for the home cooking on the menu, ordering pork chops and applesauce with a plain baked potato and whatever the daily vegetable happened to be. When the food came his stomach growled in anticipation, and he dug in. A call could come at any moment, and he was starving. One of the things he loved about the Sugarbush was that cops got a twenty-five-percent discount on their bill. Some nights he packed a lunch and ate in the car. But now and then he liked stopping and getting something substantial, especially when he was working evenings.
The radio was blessedly quiet, so he finished his meal and fished out his wallet to pay the bill. He was just at the door to go outside when he saw George, off and to the left, sitting on the sidewalk and leaning up against a red maple that the town had planted between the road and the concrete walk.
He was still wearing the clothes Aiden had bought for him, and Aiden noticed the sneakers were holding up well. But George also looked tired, and he was counting through the bits of change he had in his palm.
Aiden made an about-face and went back to the counter.
“Hey, Julie.” He greeted his waitress again. “Listen, you got anything done up quick in the kitchen I could take for takeout? Maybe not deep-fried?”
“You still hungry?” Julie was maybe thirty, cute as a button with blonde curls and generous curves, and a smile that lit up a room.
“I thought I’d pick up something for George.”
Julie peered over his shoulder, glancing out the window. “Oh. Let me have a look in the kitchen, okay?”
“Something with some nutritional value,” Aiden added, calling after her retreating figure.
