She opened her social media accounts, pausing on a series of photos Betsy had posted. It was from the Kelleys’ most recent Sunday dinner—this one down at the beach. Noah had opened his shop and they’d spent the day on the lake. She scrolled through the pictures. One of Betsy and Nate made her smile. Her brother looked so happy and healthy, she could hardly stand not to be there. He was walking with the help of a cane and, Lane had a feeling, bugging the doctors to tell him the exact day he could get back on that stupid motorcycle.
She kept scrolling, stopping at a photo of her parents. Her mom was facing the camera and her dad was facing her mom. Both were smiling as if they’d just shared a secret. She’d spent so many years feeling out of place in her family, she’d failed to see it for what it was—a gift.
She wished she could change that now.
The next photo nearly took her breath away. Brooks and his nephew, from behind, sitting on a remarkably familiar dock. They looked like two guys in deep conversation, though Lane knew conversation for eight-year-olds only went so deep.
Lane had done a good job convincing herself she’d gotten Brooks—and Harbor Pointe—out of her system. But knowing if she’d been there, she would’ve been out on that deck with him, celebrating her brother’s recovery, spending time on the lake with people who were nothing like her but seemed not to care—it stirred something she wasn’t sure she liked.
Loneliness.
“Lane, what are you doing still sitting there? We have to go.” Julia rushed past Lane’s office, pulling her back to reality. She had work to do, a pitch meeting in the conference room. It was her first since she’d started at Innovate, her first since the day she’d collapsed at JB Sweet.
Her adrenaline kicked into high gear and she gathered her things. Her heart raced as she headed down the hall to meet their client. Jemma hurried behind her with the tablet Lane had neglected to even glance at.
“They need your approval to move forward,” Jemma was saying as she followed Lane.
“I don’t want to rush through this. Can I get them to you after the meeting?”
Jemma shook her head. “They’re on a tight deadline.”
Lane stopped in the middle of the hallway and took the tablet. She scrolled through the designs, marking what she loved and what needed to be changed in record time. That ball of nervous energy had returned to her belly, a constant companion again now that she was back at work.
She needed a break. Maybe a trip to Harbor Pointe to check on everyone. Say hi. See if Ryan had forgotten her.
“Jemma, can you check my schedule?” she asked, handing back the tablet. “I’d like to get out of town for a few days. What can we clear to make that happen?”
The intern took the tablet and opened Lane’s calendar as Lane began heading for the conference room again. Still scanning the calendar, Jemma caught up with her. “I guess we could block off some time in September?”
Lane took the tablet and looked at her calendar—a community calendar that allowed other people to add things to her schedule. In theory, the idea was perfect for a community office like theirs, but in reality, all it meant was that Lane had no control over how she spent her own life.
“Can we move anything around? When I started this job, I made it clear I needed weekends off.” So far, that hadn’t happened.
“Is working weekends a problem for you, Lane?”
Lane found Julia standing behind her, just outside the conference room. Lane’s pulse buzzed like she’d been caught. She should remind Julia of their original agreement, but she didn’t.
“Not at all,” Lane said. “Just trying to sort some things out.”
Julia raised an eyebrow. “Good, because we need you focused. We’ll be here all weekend, but we should be able to get you out by nine on Saturday. Are you ready for this meeting?”
Lane nodded. “Of course.”
“Let’s go.”
When Lane left the office that night, it was already dark outside. She rode down the elevator with Jared the architect, who insisted she come out for a drink with him.
She refused, of course, given the fact that she didn’t enjoy drinking or going out—and because she had the feeling he wasn’t asking her as a friend, and her heart was hardly available.
She pushed open the door to her apartment and found Otis waiting for her, looking neglected and irritated she’d been gone all day.
“I’m sorry, boy,” she said, feeling like she’d let him down. The dog walker was no substitute for her and she knew it.
The apartment was quiet, too quiet—a reminder of her unwanted loneliness.
Her phone vibrated. Pulse quickening, she responded to a question from Julia, who clearly hadn’t read the e-mail Lane had sent her earlier in the day in hopes of not being disturbed that night.
Ryan had always made it seem so easy to disconnect, but if she did that now, she’d be more behind.
She stood at the counter in her quiet kitchen, wondering what he was doing in that moment. It had been weeks since she’d heard from him, and she assumed that meant he didn’t want to hear from her.
She held her phone in her hand, staring at his name in her contact list. She could just call to say hi. They were still friends, even though they’d decided not to be anything more.
But she was only prolonging the inevitable, only dragging out the awful truth that it wouldn’t work between them, and she needed to stop fantasizing that it could. She didn’t have a free weekend until September. How could she hope to maintain even a friendship under those conditions?
She set the phone aside and picked up a stack of mail she’d dropped on the counter, eyes landing on the lone envelope that didn’t look like a bill.
The postmark read Harbor Pointe, MI.
Something tugged at Lane’s heart—that same unexpected and unwelcome homesickness from before. She tore open the envelope and found inside nothing but an old photograph of her, her siblings, and Ryan and Hailey. She remembered the day it had been taken, but she hadn’t seen it in years. For the most part, Lane tried not to look at photos of herself as a teenager.
But seeing it now, she was struck by something other than her heaviness or wide frame. Her imperfections seemed to wane in the light of the smiles on their faces. The whole family had gone camping one weekend at the insistence of her parents, and Ryan and Hailey had come along. Every day they’d swim in the lake, and every night they’d catch fireflies and eat whatever dinner they’d cooked over an open flame.
At the time Lane hadn’t realized it, but she’d been genuinely happy that week—as if the pain caused by the outside world had simply melted away. One night at dusk, after swimming all day, her parents made them scrunch together and pose for this photo. Lane looked at their young faces, still dripping wet, skin tan from long days in the sun. They were all looking at the camera, smiling large, toothy smiles—except Brooks.
She drew the photo closer. Brooks, with his bright-green eyes and raspberry-colored lips, was looking at her. And the expression on his face told Lane what a part of her had known for a while.
Everything she’d been searching for—a family, a place to belong, the promise of true, unconditional love—it had been there all along.
But she’d never looked up long enough to see it.
She’d rushed out of Harbor Pointe, determined to leave, anxious to start over with so much to prove, and she had. She’d proven she was strong and independent and successful. But what had that gotten her?
She glanced around her loft, spotting a bored Otis curled up on the couch.
He was the only family she had here.
She walked over to the desk in the corner. On the wall, in between the windows, she’d put her many awards on display. Framed pieces of paper she’d been so proud of. A trophy that had seemed so important. Sometimes she looked at them when she felt down, and they made her feel significant. Special. Worthy.
Those accomplishments had become the thing she lived for. And she had mista
kenly thought they were what made her who she was.
She’d been so wrong.
This was the life she’d carved out for herself? This empty, fast-paced, high-anxiety life that left her feeling hopelessly alone?
She’d convinced herself that work could never hurt her. That people were disposable. That titles and accolades and self-sufficiency were what really mattered. That she didn’t need anyone.
Lord, I need them. I need you.
The prayer was reluctant, of course, but so true. She needed more than herself, no matter how much she didn’t want to admit it.
She flipped the photo over.
Found this in a box of my stuff when I was cleaning and thought you might like it. I hope you can see yourself the way I’ve always seen you—even when I was a kid. Smart. Beautiful. Independent. I loved you even then. Don’t forget to turn your phone off and rest. Miss you every day.
Brooks
She tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
He’d loved her? Did that mean he could still love her, although she’d left yet again?
The thought scared her—terrified her, really. She didn’t know how to be loved, but as she looked back at the photo, she realized she wanted to try. She belonged there, in that group, with those people. She belonged on the dock, surrounded by lighthouses and green fields. She always had.
She just hadn’t known it until now.
God had shown her, through Brooks’s unconditional love, that it wasn’t what she did that made her important, special, or worthy. It was simply who she was.
What if who she was really had been enough all along?
CHAPTER
40
ANOTHER MONTH HAD GONE BY, and Ryan was making considerable progress on the new cottage. He stood in the living room, admiring the way it looked now that the walls had been knocked out, new drywall had been installed, and beams had been added to the ceiling.
The back deck had been repaired, the bathroom gutted, the upstairs opened to a loft overlooking the main floor. He’d been here before—the foundation was all in place, but it was time to start thinking about the finishing touches. Today they were preparing to redo the stone fireplace, which was, as Lane had taught him, the focal point of the room.
Jerry had just pulled into the driveway, and as Ryan walked outside to greet him, a familiar blue pickup truck parked in the street in front of his house.
Jerry gave him a wave and hauled his tools inside while Ryan greeted his dad, who came bearing two to-go cups from Hazel’s.
“Brought you some coffee,” his dad said, handing him one of the cups.
His way of making amends, maybe? He’d stopped by almost every day since Ryan had given him the tour. Never mind that Ryan always had some caffeine before he even showed up on the job site. It was the thought that counted—and his dad’s thoughts had never been about Ryan before.
“Thanks. Did you go to your meeting yesterday?”
“Yeah. The donuts were stale.”
“I gotta get to work.”
“I know it, Son. I’ll get out of your hair.” Before he walked off, Ryan set down his cup and took the second coffee from his dad’s hands, as he’d done every other day the man had come out to his job site. He took off the lid, smelled its contents, and gave it back.
Still out on bond, his dad seemed determined to keep his promise to make Ryan proud, and for some reason, Ryan felt compelled to help him if he could. He’d even put in a good word for him with a buddy who ran a feed plant between Harbor Pointe and Newman. His dad now worked there part-time, and so far, he hadn’t missed a shift.
Ryan walked the perimeter of the cottage, thankful it had a good-size backyard with a private staircase that led to the beach. The landscaper would be there later that week, and while some of the wooden stairs needed replacing, it was still mostly functional.
He made the familiar trek down to the beach, same way he did every morning, fresh coffee in hand, taking off his shoes at the last step. He’d been thinking a lot about Lane, about the fact that two months had gone by and he still missed her every day.
He had done what God asked—let her go—but he still hadn’t figured out a way to stop thinking about her.
He’d e-mailed her a few photos of the cottage and its progress, wishing she were there to drag him around to her specialty shops and flea markets, the way she had when they were working on Cedar Grove. He’d added two built-ins because he knew she liked them, and last week he’d had Jerry create a faux-shiplap look in the kitchen just because Lane loved the way it looked.
Her responses were always immediate and encouraging. She gave the occasional design idea and kept everything very professional. He hated it. He didn’t want her to be professional with him.
He missed her. He’d fallen in love with her, and that hadn’t changed. He’d started to believe no amount of time could change it.
As he stood there, staring out over the water, he asked God one more time to take his feelings for Lane away. If he had to let her go, he didn’t want to think about her all the time anymore. The dull ache had become too familiar, and he needed it to be gone.
That, or he needed her back.
But the last two months had made it clear—something had to change.
The new project was already under way, and while Lane did much of her work from behind a desk, this one was different. It required a more hands-on approach, and Lane could hardly wait. She’d mocked up the designs based solely on photographs of the space, but she had a pretty good idea of what her client was looking for.
“I think this is your best design yet,” Chloe said from the passenger seat of Lane’s car.
“Really?”
Chloe grinned at her. “Seriously, it’s brilliant. It’s more ‘you’ than anything else you’ve ever designed.”
Lane didn’t take compliments well, but she appreciated Chloe’s encouragement. Everything about the design was risky, and she wasn’t the type to take many risks.
“You look like you’re going to throw up.”
Lane glanced at Chloe, then back at the road. She followed the instructions on her GPS and rounded the corner to the new work site. “That’s pretty accurate.”
Chloe reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “You’re going to be just fine.”
“You think?”
“Would I have quit my job to be your assistant again if I didn’t have complete faith in you?” She grinned.
Lane parked and drew a deep breath. She got out of the car and grabbed her laptop case. All her designs were carefully thought out, and she could hardly wait for her presentation. Chloe was right—this project was very much “her,” which, she supposed, was part of the risk. It terrified her to put herself out there this way, but she knew she had to at least try.
Never mind that her palms were clammy and her mouth was dry.
“Here goes nothing.”
“I’m so excited,” Chloe said.
They walked up to the front door and rang the bell. When there was no answer, Lane pushed the door open, figuring this work site wasn’t unlike all the others she’d been on—people coming and going all day long, no one waiting to be let in or out.
She called out a quick hello but was met by only the sound of power tools at work in the next room.
“This place is going to be amazing,” Chloe said, looking around.
“It really is.” The smell of sawdust wafted to her nostrils.
She walked toward the kitchen, Chloe on her heels, both admiring the incredible potential in the space.
“Lane?”
His voice could have stopped her heart. How long had it been since she’d heard him say her name?
She turned and found Brooks standing just inside the screen door—the kind that banged in the wind—that led out to the deck.
“What are you doing here?”
In that moment, she felt self-conscious. Had this whole past month been a huge mistake?
“I have somethi
ng to show you.” She set her bag down on the old table in the kitchen and pulled out her laptop. “Do you have a few minutes?”
He still looked shocked she was even there. She couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not.
“Of course.”
“Please, sit.” She motioned toward the chair and caught a glimpse of Chloe, whose expression told her to calm down. Was it obvious she was panicking inside?
She hadn’t seen him in two months. She wanted to rush into his arms and tell him she’d stay there for the rest of her life if he’d let her, but she wasn’t here on a social call. This was business.
She opened her laptop and sat down next to Ryan. His bewildered stare unnerved her.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m about to show you.” She smiled at him, hoping he wouldn’t think less of her for what she was about to say.
She opened the program with all her designs and found the one she’d been poring over for the past three weeks. She clicked on it and her adorable new logo popped onto the screen.
“What’s Memory Lane?”
She smiled. “That’s my new business.”
Chloe was stifling a squeal, Lane could tell.
Brooks frowned. “What do you mean? I thought you worked at a place called Innovate.”
“I did. And now I don’t.”
“Lane, what about your promotion?”
She turned the screen toward him. “What you see in front of you is a compilation of ideas I’ve put together for the very cottage we’re sitting in now. With a little help from your sister, I was able to snag individual photos of each room, and I’ve designed them all to create a cohesive, welcoming, and very relaxing environment, not unlike what we did at Cedar Grove.”
She flipped through a series of photos, showing Ryan what the space could look like if she were to take over designing the project.
“Chloe, do you have the contract?”
Chloe pulled a set of stapled papers from her bag and slid a copy toward Ryan.
Just Look Up Page 34
