“Oh my God. He cut his hair.” Charlotte sounded heartbroken as she came up beside Shelby.
She pulled her attention away from Eli and joined Charlotte in a sigh. “I know.”
“Colette told me he’d been in, but she didn’t tell me she’d scalped the poor boy. That’s . . . that’s . . . What do you call hairdresser malpractice?”
“I think it’s what he wanted.”
“And you didn’t try to talk him out of it?”
“It’s not really my place, now is it? You gotta admit, though. He looks good with short hair.”
“But he looked better with it longer. It was so pretty.”
“But not really appropriate for an office job.”
“I thought architects were creative types where dress codes were more lax.”
“Honestly, I don’t know, but he’s been talking more about the job these last couple of days, and I think he’s going to be the boss of a bunch of other people, so . . .”
Charlotte looked impressed. “Well, that kind of puts a different light on the whole ‘in between jobs’ thing.”
“Yeah.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Fine.” Charlotte gave her a knowing look. “Really, I am. I’m going to miss him like crazy, but what else can I do?”
“I don’t know. Have you asked him?”
“Asked him what?”
“What else you can do. Plans can change—”
“Be serious.”
“I am. Maybe he might want to stay. You should ask.”
Charlotte, bless her, could be an even bigger romantic than Shelby sometimes. At least she’d seen the light and taken off the blinders. “He’s been waiting months to take this job. It’s the job he’s been working toward his whole life. He’s not going to give that up. And I wouldn’t ask him to, either.”
“I think he cares about you. And I know you care about him. That can change people’s wants.”
“We’ve known each other for less than two months. That’s not a relationship anyone should make major life changes for.” And, Shelby reminded herself, Declan had left his girlfriend of five years for this job. He wanted it. And there was nothing wrong with that. It was good to have goals and plans. She had her own, and she wouldn’t give those up for anyone, so it wasn’t remotely fair to expect differently. “I’m going to go dance with Declan. Here, hold my drink.”
Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. She hated being cut off like that, and Shelby knew it. But being reasonable and mature was like balancing on a Windsurfer. If she broke that concentration, even for a second, she’d lose control and end up dunked.
* * *
Declan was touched, really, by the turnout at his going-away party. It seemed odd to have one here, in Magnolia Beach, when he’d left Chicago almost like a thief in the night. Part of that had been the situation—going from Suzanne’s apartment to friends’ houses like a lost nomad before coming up with a better plan—but he’d also lost a lot of friends in the breakup. He didn’t blame them. Most of his friends had been Suzanne’s friends first, and they’d been put in an awkward position, to say the least. While he had work acquaintances, the way he’d left his job had been a bit of a mess, too, so a trip to happy hour had been more than enough for them to see him off.
And while he was in the position again where most everyone here was actually Shelby’s friend, not his, they’d made his time here enjoyable and seemed, if not sad, at least unhappy to see him go. That, at least, was something.
Shelby appeared at his elbow. “Wanna dance?”
There was no live band tonight, just the jukebox, and the dance floor was not nearly as crowded as it was on the weekends. While being one of the few couples on the dance floor would put them in everyone’s sight, it was, at least, a chance to be somewhat alone in the middle of the bar. He was enjoying the party, but he hadn’t had two words alone with Shelby all evening.
Shelby sighed as she relaxed into him, swaying easily to the music. “Thanks for the party,” he said into her hair.
“My pleasure. I wish it could’ve been something a bit more than this, but I was under a gun to organize it so quickly.”
“It’s great, Shelby. Seriously.” He pulled her a little closer. “I’m going to miss this,” he said carefully.
“Me, too.”
The confession shocked him. Shelby had been her usual perky self, helping him get things done in her usual no-nonsense way. She seemed neither personally happy nor sad to see him go, acting exactly as she had all along. It was driving him insane.
She might have said she was going to miss him, but it sure didn’t seem like it was really bothering her. He didn’t want her to mourn him after he left, for God’s sake, but he’d like to think she’d at least notice when he was gone. He wanted to think he’d meant something to her, that he was someone she wouldn’t later just shrug off as just another “tourist boy.”
But she probably would, because that’s what he was—another tourist drifting through Magnolia Beach—and she’d learned not to invest in them. Maybe he shouldn’t take that lack of investment in him so personally.
But he couldn’t help it.
It made him glad to be leaving. Staying longer would have only made this worse—if not for Shelby, definitely for him. He’d gotten used to her and would need time to detox—not more time to strengthen the habit.
The one thing he’d learned early on with Shelby, though, was that her enthusiasm alone was enough to buoy almost anything, and her enthusiasm for his move, for his grand plan finally coming together, bordered on manic. She was so excited for him that it felt wrong not to appreciate that excitement.
It was tangled and complicated, completely unlike his move from Chicago—which while messy in some ways, still managed to be a clean, regret-free break. It was easier to just not think about it. To just roll along with the master plan.
Then Shelby squeezed his fingers and rubbed her cheek against his chest.
This was messy, but at least it would end well.
He’d have to settle for that.
* * *
Declan left on December third, right around three o’clock in the morning, so that he would arrive in Miami before the end of the business day. It was pitch black and overcast as she helped him load the last few things into his car, and the wind coming in off the water was damp and chilly.
All that worked to Shelby’s favor, though—no one could look happy under those circumstances, so she didn’t have to fake it anymore. She deserved a freakin’ Oscar for her work this week keeping everything light and friendly and exactly the same as it had been. She was proud of herself.
“You didn’t have to see me off. After all,” he said with a smirk, “I did promise to never wake you up at three a.m. again.”
That made her smile a little. They’d gone to bed early, really early, last night, to give them a couple of hours to not sleep before Declan had to. She’d been sated and floating in the afterglow, only for the alarm and now this chill to drive all of that out of her and leave her oddly empty. “Drive carefully,” she said. “And obey the speed limits through those little towns across the Panhandle. They’re serious about it.”
He smiled and nodded. “It’s been fun.”
“Yeah. It has.”
“Take care and feel free to call me if you have any questions about the plans I gave you.”
All her dreams for her marina were on a thumb drive on her nightstand. She hadn’t had a chance to really look at them, but Declan said it would get her started. But she couldn’t think about that right now. “You, too, and I will.” But I probably won’t. The only thing making this bearable was the fact he wasn’t saying something trite like “Let’s keep in touch” when they both knew they wouldn’t. There was no reason to.
Declan hugged her then, the warmth of his body taking
the chill off hers as it blocked the wind, and she inhaled deeply, memorizing the scent of him. It was stupid and silly, but she couldn’t help it.
After kissing her forehead, he lifted her face up to his. “I’m going to miss you, Shelby Tanner.”
“You’ll forget about me soon enough.” She tried to sound flippant and teasing, but it didn’t come out right. “But I’ll miss you, too. I’m glad you ended up in Magnolia Beach.”
“Me, too. And if you’re ever in Miami, look me up.”
“Will do.” And that was the closest they could get to a future.
Declan opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind and sighed deeply instead. “Bye, Shelby.”
“Bye, Declan.”
His engine seemed a little too loud in the silence of the darkness, and Cupid came to sit at her feet as he pulled out of the parking lot. Shelby patted the dog absently as she watched Declan’s taillights until they were gone in the distance. Then she looked down at Cupid. “Well, I guess that’s it.”
Cupid cocked her head and whined low in her throat.
“Yeah. Me, too.” She looked up at the dark sky and sighed. She’d done such a good job pretending she was fine the last couple of days, she was beginning to think she actually was. “Fake it until you make it” might be an actual thing.
Habit had her scanning the marina, checking for anything out of the ordinary before she went in, but nothing really was. Every boat was dark, including for the first time, the Lady Jane.
“It’s just you and me again, puppy.”
Cupid followed her in and up the stairs to her little apartment, which felt emptier than usual now. The bed was still rumpled from where she and Declan had been just a little while ago, and she rather worried that it would still be warm. It probably smelled like him, too, so while she should go back to bed and get some more sleep, she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it.
There were limits to how okay she was. Or how okay she wanted to pretend to be. She might have come to the end of her ability to fake anything. At least she was alone now, with no reason to keep that up.
She curled up on the couch instead and pulled an afghan over her. Cupid jumped up to join her, shoving Shelby around until she was snuggled up against Shelby’s chest.
She hadn’t lied to Declan—or herself, really. It had been fun, she would miss him, and she was glad he’d come here. She had no regrets.
Well, just the one.
The one that made the fact he probably would forget her quickly enough sit heavily and painfully in her chest.
And while Shelby had never cried over a man before and had absolutely no desire to start now, at least Cupid would keep her secret.
Because she hadn’t intended to fall for Declan Hyde, either.
And it sucked.
Chapter 16
Far more than simple distance separated Miami from Chicago. And Magnolia Beach might as well exist on a different planet.
Miami was warm and colorful, even in the dead of winter. The beaches were beautiful, the people even more so, and the whole place had a vibrancy that he could feel pulsing under the surface of daily life.
Not that he’d gotten to experience much of it. Aside from one walk on the beach the first day to celebrate just being here, his toes hadn’t gotten near sand since then. There just hadn’t been time. It hadn’t taken that long to unpack the necessities—he didn’t own that much stuff—but he hadn’t been able to explore his new hometown much. Charlie had been more than happy to bring him in just days after he arrived, loading work on him to the point where he hadn’t seen much of Miami beyond what was on his commute to and from work.
At least his new office had a decent view. That was a mark of success, right? The window office with the view of all the other buildings? After months in Magnolia Beach, all those buildings felt a little claustrophobic at first, and the city itself seemed too noisy and dense. And those big windows didn’t even open to allow a breeze in, leaving him breathing stale, recirculated air as he sorted out the messes left for him by his predecessor—who officially didn’t retire until January tenth, but seemed to have mentally retired months ago.
His new assistant had greeted him with a look of great relief and enough work to keep him busy until retirement.
It was nice to be needed, to feel valued and necessary at a job, but damn. Maybe he’d just gotten lazy during his stay in Magnolia Beach. Not just from his own untethered schedule of doing whatever, whenever, either; the whole town really did have that general ease of pace he’d seen on TV. He just hadn’t realized he’d gotten used to it.
Jumping right back into real life had been a bit jarring.
But he’d adjust. This was what he’d been working toward his entire life. It had finally been handed to him—on a fifty-to-sixty-hour-a-week platter, granted—but he could honestly say he’d made it. That all the work had finally paid off. He’d achieved what he’d set his sights on, even when everyone had told him it would be damn near impossible.
He’d proved them all wrong. Victory.
Which he celebrated by collapsing on his couch every night, too tired and brain dead to do much beyond channel surf. He couldn’t even enjoy the amenities of his apartment.
Supposedly the pool was very nice. Rumor had it there was a hot tub, too.
Declan stretched and leaned back in his office chair, propping his feet up on his desk and rubbing his eyes. On the wall across from him hung a horrible piece of “art”—one that he’d eventually replace with something else, but for now it added a bit of color to his otherwise drab office—of sailboats lined up at docks. It was very modern, with too-harsh colors and stylized lines, probably supposed to capture the vibrancy of Miami or some such tripe, but it made him think of the Bay Breeze Marina instead.
Not that he was sure why—nothing on earth, much less anything in Magnolia Beach, looked like that. But it made him wonder what, if anything, Shelby was doing with the marina. Had she shoved the thumb drive and all his notes in a drawer somewhere? Or had she gotten up the nerve to actually present the possibilities to her family? He wouldn’t consider it a waste of time either way, but he hated to think of Shelby doing nothing with it, just continuing along in a place she wanted to love even more.
It wasn’t like every idea he’d ever had or even every project he’d ever worked on came to fruition, but the marina was different somehow. It was more immediate; it carried a weight—an importance he’d actually felt. It meant something.
Very few projects actually meant something. He wanted that satisfaction, and he doubted he’d find it anytime soon.
And if nothing else, Shelby might think about him every now and then.
It was a little twisted. He admitted that much. But he couldn’t help thinking of her. Her smile. Her sass.
He missed her. A lot.
Damn it, he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about her, dragging out the whole “moving on” thing.
It was hard to fight the urge to call, just to chat and see how she was, but that would only drag the detox process out. Keeping one toe in Magnolia Beach was not healthy for him and would only make his transition to his new life in Miami longer and harder. It was better this way—it had to be.
His e-mail pinged, jerking him back to the present and Miami and the backlog of work on his desk. Ugh. He was three weeks into a new job, and he already needed a vacation.
I’ll adjust. He’d settle in. He was just a little overwhelmed—it was hard to go from months of nothing to full-time. Zero to sixty in nothing flat. Once he got things here under control, he’d be able to have a life again, meet some people.
Then he wouldn’t miss her anymore.
* * *
Shelby might publicly grump about being “volunteered” by her mother to help with the church Nativity play, but in reality, she loved it. She liked kids—in controlled doses
—and she loved their excitement for the event. She wasn’t the most faithful of church attendees throughout the year, but it just wasn’t Christmas for her without the Nativity play.
And First Methodist put on one heck of a show every year, pulling out all the stops. Every few years, someone would get the great idea that live animals should be included in the play—really giving it that extra something—but Pastor Evans had placed a complete and final moratorium on that after the great sheep calamity the year Shelby was seven. She’d been one of the shepherds, dressed in a bathrobe with one of Gran’s good napkins on her head, but it wasn’t like she’d gotten any actual shepherding training before they’d set the sheep loose in the sanctuary.
It hadn’t been her fault or anything.
But the edict had come down, with Pastor Evans declaring there could be children or animals, but not both, and since then, the annual service called Holy Commotion had been human-only.
And all the Tanners were involved. None of her first cousins were still young enough to have parts, but when warm bodies were needed for grunt work, there was always a mom or an aunt ready to send one of them in.
The rehearsal was almost as good as the show itself. Lucy Evans, the pastor’s daughter, was leading the kindergarten Sunday school class in an exuberant rendition of “Go Tell It on the Mountain”—complete with percussion instruments. Mrs. Evans and Aunt Claire were rehearsing Mary and Joseph, but the plastic Baby Jesus’s head kept falling off and rolling out of the stable, causing the Star of Bethlehem to burst into traumatized tears. Helena, surprisingly, had stepped in to calm her down. Eli, Adam, Joe, and Graham were futzing with the lights, Jamie and Ryan had the younger boys and Todd West assembling risers around the altar for the angel choir, while her father, Uncle Dave, and Pastor Evans helpfully directed traffic. The adult choir was practicing up in the loft while the ladies of the altar guild were moving things to safety and out of reach of bored children. It was a zoo—minus the animals, of course.
Shelby was on costume duty, making sure the sheep and camels and donkey had all the proper tails and ears laid out on the pews where the kids could find them easily. She still had all the programs to fold, Wise Men gifts to make, and tables to set up in the Fellowship Hall for the after-play cocoa-and-cookie reception for the congregation. It was a lot to do, but she grabbed every task she could.
More Than Anything Page 23
