Meant to Be (Sweetbriar Cove Book 1)

by Melody Grace

  Her ex-fiancé.

  Cooper was still on guard for intruders when the newcomer stepped into the light. He was tall, dressed in a preppy overcoat, with dark hair cut neat and thin gold wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like he’d just stepped out of the office—and definitely like he wasn’t lurking to case the joint and make off with June’s collection of antique thimbles.

  “Owen?” Poppy gasped beside him. “What . . . what are you doing here?”

  Owen.

  Cooper tensed. This was the guy Poppy had left back home, the one she’d broken up with. What the hell was he doing all the way out here? Poppy had said it herself: it was over. She was moving on.

  Cooper drew himself up to his full height and casually stepped in front of Poppy. “Cooper Nicholson,” he said, sticking out his hand. He held Owen’s gaze, steady. “It’s kind of late to be showing up unannounced. Maybe you should give Poppy a call in the morning and see if she’d like to talk then.”

  “Who’s this guy?” Owen looked past him. “Poppy?”

  “He’s . . . just a friend,” Poppy answered, sounding stressed. She rested a hand on Cooper’s arm. “It’s OK, I’ve got this.”

  Friend.

  It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. One dinner didn’t change a thing. He’d thought there’d been something building between them, and when she’d invited him back for dessert, it seemed like she felt it too. But clearly, one look at her old love and she wanted Cooper long gone and out of the way.

  He tried to ignore the rejection that slammed over him like a shock of cold water. It was nothing, he told himself. She was free to pick whatever guy she wanted.

  Still, he wasn’t about to leave her there alone with some psycho ex. “Are you sure?” Cooper searched her face carefully. “Because I can stay.”

  “I’m sure. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. And thanks for dinner,” she added with a small smile. “I had fun.”

  Fun. The kind you had with a guy who was just friends.

  Cooper resisted the urge to slam the door in this guy’s face and show Poppy what “fun” could really mean. That kiss was just a preview. Now that he knew how sweet she tasted, he could spend days getting lost in her touch, making her gasp and moan for more.

  But that was just a fantasy. The real world was staring him right back in the face, waiting politely for him to go.

  He nodded brusquely. “I’ll leave you guys to it. Owen, it was good to meet you.” Cooper shot him a warning look that made it clear he was on thin ice. If Poppy said the word, he’d happily send Owen packing out of Sweetbriar Cove for good.

  Owen cleared his throat and looked away. “You too.”

  Cooper checked with Poppy again, but it was like she didn’t even see him. She was staring at Owen with a flood of emotion in her eyes.

  He should have guessed it wasn’t over.

  “Goodnight,” he said quietly. It felt wrong somehow, to be turning his back on Poppy, and even worse to leave her alone with another man, but Cooper wasn’t about to cause a scene. Like she said, they were just friends. He didn’t have any right to the disappointment burning in his chest, so he clenched his jaw and climbed back in the truck, driving away fast enough to make the tires spin on the gravel road.

  He was a damn fool.

  Of course Poppy thought of him as just a friend, he’d been combative and grumpy since the day they met. And sure, he thought they’d connected—that time at the drive-in, and dinner tonight—but he guessed that didn’t do anything to overcome his bad first impression.

  Or second. Or third.

  Cooper slammed his hand against the steering wheel. He couldn’t even be mad at Owen for showing up like that. Poppy was a woman worth chasing. No, he’d screwed this one up all on his own, the same way he always did.

  He drove for home, but it was like his hands had a mind of their own: they steered him miles past his own turn, to where a lane curved into the woods and the bumpy track dipped and wove through the trees. He’d cursed this dirt road a hundred times over, getting stuck in potholes and rained out by the storm. It was near impossible to get the building supplies in, but he’d made it happen eventually.

  Cooper bounced over the last fallen branch and turned the corner. There it was: a small, rustic house sitting squarely by the pond. The lights were all off, and he figured the tourists he’d sold to were still out of town until summer, but still, he turned off the engine and sat there in the dark for a moment, just remembering.

  This used to be his house. His, and Laura’s. He’d fixed it up for them, that first year, imagining the life they’d spend there together and the family they’d raise, right here.

  “What about if you believe it? If you think you have everything, and it doesn’t work out.”

  He remembered what he’d said to Poppy, the questions he’d asked the other night. She may have been talking about her book, but those were the questions he’d been grappling with ever since the night he’d come home to find Laura’s engagement ring on the table, and her sitting right there beside it with nothing but defeat left in her eyes.

  And just like that, his happily-ever-after crumbled into pieces, and Cooper realized it had always been a lie.

  It wasn’t perfect. Hell, even he knew that. The bickering that turned to fights—lasting too long, cutting too deep. The slamming doors and empty silences, the hours he’d work just to avoid coming home, and the late nights she’d disappear to do much the same thing. But nothing was perfect, right? You just made it work. You fought for each other, for the life you were building, and got through the tough times, somehow.

  But Laura didn’t see it that way. “It shouldn’t be this hard,” she’d told him, and just like that, she’d taken herself out of the fight. Cooper was left alone on the battlefield with the sad, painful truth: she hadn’t loved him enough to keep fighting for them.

  He wasn’t enough for her in the end.

  Cooper sat there in the dark, lost in old memories. Laura was still on the Cape; she’d met a guy up in Truro the year after she left him. He was decent, from what Cooper could tell: an accountant, running a small shop for the local businesses. Now, they were married, with a baby, too. He saw them all together sometimes, glimpses passing on the street. She looked happy, and Cooper was glad about that. She deserved happiness, even if it wasn’t with him. Relationships failed, sometimes people couldn’t make it work—he knew that. He’d heard it all before. But deep down, Cooper still blamed himself for letting it slip away.

  He should have been able to give her the life she wanted. He could have fought more to make things right.

  It shouldn’t be this hard.

  Cooper swallowed back the knot in his throat. Look at him, picking over ancient history. People moved on all the time, and brooding in the dark wouldn’t bring back something already dead and buried, which is why he rarely let himself think of her at all. But tonight, with Poppy’s rejection still a fresh wound, he hadn’t been able to keep himself from the past.

  But it wasn’t Laura’s face that lingered in his mind as he turned the engine on and finally head for home. It was Poppy’s.

  Her eyes bright, smiling up at him. Hiding her face in her hands with embarrassment when he teased her. Laughing over dinner, so hard she almost choked on her food.

  She was beautiful. Honest, and sweet, and determined. Tonight, he couldn’t help but get swept up in her hopeful enthusiasm, believing that better days lay ahead. Somehow none of the past mattered, and those old wounds seemed a lifetime ago. For the first time in a long while, Cooper had found himself wondering what it would be like to try again with someone, for real this time. Open up and take that chance, to hell with the consequences.

  Until they’d arrived back at her place to find her past wasn’t ancient history, after all.

  It was for the best. Cooper hit the road again, trying not to think about what she was doing with Owen, right at that moment. He had no business wanting a future with anyone. If the definition of insanity
was trying the same thing over but somehow expecting a different result, then Cooper could take a hint.

  Poppy was better off without him. He was a man made to be alone.

  13

  “I thought you were in Fiji.”

  Poppy headed for the kitchen, trying to collect herself. Seeing Owen standing there on the porch like a ghost from a previous life had scattered every thought from her mind. She busied herself putting the pie away and filling the tea kettle, nervously setting it on the stove as Owen leaned against the counter, watching her.

  “I was,” he replied. “You were right when you booked it. The honeymoon sunset cruise was magical. A little less magical being the only single man on a boat of happy couples whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears, but what can you do?” Owen shot her a rueful smile, and right away, Poppy was washed in a tidal wave of guilt.

  She wasn’t supposed to be out on dates, having fun, and walking on the beach at dawn breathing in the crisp salty breeze. She was supposed to be on that cruise with him. She was supposed to be his wife by now, setting out on their life together, instead of avoiding his gaze, her skin still flushed with desire for some other man.

  Cooper.

  Poppy felt a pang. She’d hated brushing him off like that, but her worlds had been colliding in one unholy mess, and she couldn’t focus on Owen with Cooper so close. When he was around, she couldn’t see anything but him, and that wasn’t fair to Owen, not after everything. She just hoped Cooper understood.

  “So, that guy . . .” Owen continued, as if he’d seen it written all over her face. “He’s just a friend?”

  Poppy took a breath. “Yes. No. Nothing’s happened,” she said quickly, still feeling like she owed him an explanation. “We had dinner, and . . .” She gulped. “I mean, I just met him. Here. He wasn’t . . .”

  “The reason you left me,” Owen finished.

  Poppy cringed. It was bad enough when she’d sat him down that day to tell him it was over, but now, she had a different kind of guilt to reckon with. Standing here with Owen, he felt like a stranger. Part of a life she hadn’t even thought about in weeks. They’d shared their hopes and dreams, spent years together, and picked out their future right down to the china pattern on the registry list, but all that had faded away, so far it felt like a dream. It was shameful just how fast she’d cast him aside, and even thought she knew it was a sign that their relationship had always been doomed to failure, Poppy still ached to see the sadness in his eyes.

  “Owen . . .” She didn’t know what to say. “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought, maybe if we talked . . .” he began, his expression turning hopeful. “You got cold feet, and I get it. All the wedding plans, our families—it was crazy. You needed some time to yourself, to figure it out. But we can make this work.”

  “Owen, no.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. You know I never meant to hurt you, but I meant what I said. I can’t marry you.”

  “So we don’t get married.” Owen closed the distance between them and took her hands, holding tight. “We stay engaged, or just together. Whatever you want. I don’t need a piece of paper to know you’re mine.”

  Poppy stepped back. “But I’m not. Yours.” She looked up at him, searching for a way to make him understand. “You know I’m right. It’s been wrong for a long time between us.”

  He shook his head stubbornly. “Things were fine.”

  “Fine,” Poppy echoed sadly. “Is that what you really want? To build a life together on ‘fine’? Don’t you think you deserve more than that?”

  Owen sagged. “We could try—”

  “Please.” Poppy stopped him. “Don’t. I care about you, you know I do. But I need more than that, and you should, too. You deserve to be with someone who can’t imagine a world without you, who wakes up every day filled with gladness that they get to share their life with you. Not just ‘fine.’ ”

  Owen dropped her hands. He slowly went and took a seat at the table, and Poppy could see the denial finally slip away. “You couldn’t have figured all this out before we sent the invites?” he asked with a rueful look.

  “I’m sorry. But imagine if we’d gone through with the wedding,” she pointed out. “We’d be hiring divorce lawyers instead of just sending gifts back.”

  To anyone else, that wouldn’t have been much consolation, but Owen was always the frugal one. He spent hours on the internet looking up bargain deals, and set up a whole system for her to track her budget. Now, he nodded, looking more cheerful. “You’re right. New York is an equitable property state, too. That would have gotten messy.”

  Poppy let out a small breath of relief. She was the emotional one, but Owen had always weighed things with logic and fact. It was one of the reasons it would have never worked between them, but now she was relieved she had a way to make him feel better.

  “And think about if we’d bought a house together,” she continued. “Or combined our finances, too. I had to do this now,” she said softly. “Before we went too far to take it back.”

  He nodded again slowly. “I figured it was worth one last try,” he said, giving her a familiar smile. “In case I could talk you around. I had a whole list prepared of reasons why we should stay together.”

  “That’s sweet.” Poppy exhaled. “But this isn’t like my retirement plan, or deciding whether or not to get a dog. A pro/con list doesn’t really work for love.”

  Owen opened his mouth like he was going to argue, then stopped. “Not for you, no, it doesn’t.”

  The tea kettle whistled, and Poppy poured them two cups. She joined him at the table. “Did you get the last of the gifts returned?” she asked, and he nodded. “I’ll be sure to send thank-you notes, all the same.”

  “You might want to steer clear of my mom for a while,” he said, making a face. “You’re not exactly her favorite person right now. Or my sister’s.”

  “No, I’d imagine not.” Poppy thought of Owen’s over-protective family and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe there was a silver lining to this break-up business, after all. “What about you?” she asked. “It’s a long drive back to New York this late. You’re welcome to stay here, there are plenty of rooms.”

  Owen shook his head. “I’d prefer to get on the road.”

  “OK.” Poppy toyed with her mug. She felt like she should say something, but she wasn’t sure what was left to say. Maybe Owen had imagined this last-ditch effort chasing after her would change her mind, but it had only made her resolve stronger. Looking at him now, she felt affection and regret, but the kind you feel for an old friend whose life has taken a different path. Not the excitement she dreamed about in a partner, the love she’d been writing for her characters all these years.

  She’d felt more passion in one kiss with Cooper than she had in her whole relationship with Owen.

  “We had it good though, didn’t we?” Owen gave her a nostalgic smile. “For a while, at least.”

  “We did.” Poppy reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, for everything.”

  “I know.” He squeezed back. “But you’re right. I think a part of me has always known you’re right.” He looked rueful. “I guess just because something adds up on paper doesn’t mean it’s real.”

  “You’ll find it,” she reassured him. “You’re a good man, and somewhere, there’s a woman who can’t wait to meet you. And hey, maybe she’ll love Doctor Who, too.”

  He smiled. “It would be nice to share my hobbies with someone,” he agreed. “I always felt like you didn’t really understand.”

  “Oh, I didn’t.” Poppy grinned. “I tried, but I pretty much started zoning out every time you mentioned regeneration and the star wars.”

  “Time Wars,” he corrected her.

  “There you go.”

  Owen finished his tea and stood. “I better hit the road.”

  She showed him to the door again, and watched him pull his coat back on. “Thank you, for coming out here.” Poppy felt
a curious mix of sadness and resolve. “I think it was good, to see each other like this.”

  “Without passions running high.” Owen nodded. “You take care,” he said, giving her an abrupt hug.

  “You too.” Poppy hugged him back.

  “And about that friend of yours . . .” Owen paused in the doorway. “It’s none of my business, but the way he was glaring at me, I’m guessing there’s more than friendship on his mind.”

  Poppy flushed. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But I’m not sure we’re compatible.”

  Owen raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you the one who said love can’t be calculated by a pro/con list?”

  There he was with the logic again.

  “Take care,” Poppy said, as he headed out into the dark night. “Travel safe.”

  She closed the door behind him, and it felt like she was closing a chapter of her life. She looked around the cottage, warm and cozy, and felt a sense of peace sweep through her.

  Whatever came next was up to her.

  She saw her phone sitting on the entry table, and wondered what Cooper was doing. Was he home alone, kicked back watching TV? Or working on some project, late into the night?

  Was he thinking about her, the way she was thinking about him—his smile, his body, his mouth . . . ?

  Poppy shook away those tempting thoughts. She couldn’t just call him up and invite him over now, to pick right up where they’d left off on their date. No, she sighed. It was late and the moment had definitely passed.

  Then her gaze landed on the paper bag with the dessert box. She smiled, and went to cut herself a slice. She sat in the kitchen, and savored every bite. She may not have any idea what was going on with Cooper, but she had apple pie, and a whole new beginning.

  The rest could wait until tomorrow.

  14

  Poppy sent Cooper a text the next morning, thanking him for dinner—but there was no reply. She tried not to read into it. He was probably busy with work or some project, and besides, Cooper never struck her as the texting kind. She’d see him soon enough at the house, or around town.