Ready for Love

by Marie Force

  If he had any prayer of convincing her that she was making an enormous mistake by marrying anyone other than him, he had to go home and make things right with her. So he’d packed most of his stuff into storage, put his place in Malibu on the market, left his car with a friend to sell and headed for LAX.

  Now, as he studied her storefront from the quiet sidewalk that would soon bustle with tourists, he could only hope he wasn’t too late.

  At nine o’clock on the dot, Abby appeared at the front door and turned the Closed sign to Open.

  Watching her, Grant stood up a little straighter and waited for her to notice him there. But she turned away and went back into the store, leaving him standing there like a lovesick fool hoping the girl he favored would grace him with a glance.

  He’d have to go in. For some reason, that frightened him. He’d pictured this playing out differently. She’d see him out there on the sidewalk, her eyes would widen, and she’d burst through the door to throw herself into his arms.

  “It’s not a movie, you asshole,” he muttered to himself. For a guy who fancied himself rather good with words, he had no idea what he planned to say to her. All he knew was he had to say something to stop her from marrying the wrong man.

  Steeling himself for whatever reaction she might have to his sudden reappearance, he cleared his throat, ran unsteady fingers through his hair and pushed open the door. Jingling bells announced his presence.

  “Be right with you,” she called from the back room.

  Grant was hit right away with her favorite scents—lavender and sage and a hint of vanilla—and a memory of their years in LA when he arrived home each night to one of her favorite scents coming from the candle of the day. God, why hadn’t he married her when he’d had the chance? When she’d been living in his house, their two lives entirely entwined? He’d made the mistake then of assuming nothing could ever come between them. He’d made the monumental mistake of putting his ambition ahead of her.

  The store was cluttered and cozy and practical, just like the woman who owned it. As he waited for her, Grant’s heart hammered in his chest, and his palms were suddenly damp.

  “Hi there,” Abby said. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  Grant looked up and their eyes met.

  Her big brown eyes got even bigger, and she sucked in a sharp deep breath when she saw him. “Grant.”

  “Hi, Abs.” Her shiny dark hair had gotten long in the year since he’d last seen her, and as he contemplated the mouth that had fueled his fantasies for as long as he could remember, Grant realized he’d played this all wrong. He never should’ve given her a year to ponder life without him, and he feared he’d regret that for the rest of his days if he couldn’t convince her to give him one more chance.

  “What’re you doing here? Janey’s wedding isn’t for two weeks yet.” She kept her hands busy straightening shelves that didn’t need straightening. A flash from the large diamond on her left hand sliced through him like a heated laser, leaving him breathless and anxious.

  “I’ve come home. To stay.” As he said the words she’d waited years to hear, he braced himself for her fury. It was the least of what he deserved.

  “Is that so?”

  Grant took a step closer to her. “I’m home, Abby.”

  “Your mother must be pleased.”

  His mother? “Is she the only one?”

  “Your dad, Janey and Mac, too, I assume.”

  What the hell was wrong with her? Here he was telling her he’d finally left Los Angeles. He’d finally come home to her, and she didn’t really seem to care. How was that possible after the years they’d spent loving each other so passionately?

  “What about you?” Another step closer. “Are you at all happy to see me?”

  “Of course I am.” Her eyes flashed with emotion, which gave him hope. She began refolding a pile of perfectly folded Gansett Island T-shirts.

  “I’m sorry for making you wait so long. I know now that was wrong. I shouldn’t have gone back last year after you told me how much you wanted to get married and have a family.”

  “You did what you needed to,” she said in a flat emotionless tone he’d never heard from her before. “I certainly understand that.”

  Grant reached out to stop her from refolding another shirt. “Abby, what’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing,” she said, raising her chin defiantly. “Everything is great with me. I finally have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

  “But what about us?”

  “There is no more us, Grant. I told you that a year ago. You made your choice, and I made mine. It’s over.”

  He heard the words, but everything in him rejected them. “No. It’s not over.”

  The bells on the door jingled again, and Grant bit back a swear of frustration. He wanted to tell whoever it was to get the hell out, but that would hardly help his case.

  “Hey, darlin’,” a deep voice drawled behind Grant. “Brought you a caffeine boost. What a crazy night I had operating on a dog! Oh, sorry, didn’t see you had a customer.”

  Right before Grant’s eyes, Abby lit up at the sight of the guy who’d brought the coffee. The fiancé, he presumed.

  Grant pushed back his shoulders and turned to take in the competition. The guy was tall, he’d give him that, with blond hair—long blond hair. Since when did Abby go for the longhaired type? Muscular, blue-eyed and a goofy lovesick smile aimed at Abby that made Grant see red.

  “Ahh, Cal. Come meet my old friend, Grant McCarthy. Grant, my fiancé, Dr. Cal Maitland.”

  As Cal crushed his hand, Grant tried to fathom being introduced as Abby’s “old friend” to her fiancé. He was the love of her freaking life! Had she completely forgotten that?

  “Good to meet you, Grant. You in town for a while?”

  “Yeah.” Grant cast a long glance at Abby, who radiated discomfort. “I’ll be here awhile. As long as it takes, in fact.”

  “For what?” Abby asked, alarmed.

  Grant leaned in to make sure only she could hear him. “To fix this.” He nodded to Cal on the way by. “You all have a nice day.”

  Chapter 14

  Luke thought he was dreaming when he woke to voices downstairs. He sat up, ran his fingers through his hair and was about to go see who was there, when Sydney’s mother appeared at the bedroom door.

  She gasped at the sight of him on Syd’s bed and scurried away. Fabulous. Thank God he’d stayed dressed and on top of the comforter earlier. Could’ve been worse, he reasoned. While he really wanted Sydney to sleep for a while longer, he needed to let her know they’d been found out.

  He leaned over to kiss her cheek and brushed the hair from her face. “Syd.” As he waited for her to rouse, his eyes landed on the photo of Seth and the kids next to her bed. Luke wished he had time to study the picture, but he had more pressing concerns at the moment. “Sydney.”

  “Hmm.” Her eyes flew open. “Buddy. Is it Buddy?”

  Luke shook his head. “Your parents are back.”

  “Ugh, tell me you’re kidding.”

  “Wish I was. Your mom saw us.”

  “Oh.”

  The single word didn’t give Luke much insight into what she was thinking as urgent whispers from her parents filtered up the stairs.

  Sydney groaned. “I’m so not up for dealing with this right now.”

  “You want me to go?”

  “No! I’m not sneaking you out of here like we’ve got something to hide. I’m almost thirty-six years old, for crying out loud.”

  Luke grinned at her feistiness, relieved to see a spark of life back in eyes that had gone dull with worry over Buddy. “And you just got caught in bed with your high school boyfriend.”

  That drew the first genuine smile he’d seen since they came home to find Buddy in distress.

  “It’s a scandal.”

  He kissed her. “I’ll understand if you’d rather deal with them on your own.”

  “Wimp.”

&nbs
p; “You betcha.”

  Laughing at his grimace, she got up to find a robe and stepped into the bathroom. After he took a turn, they met at the doorway to the bedroom. Sydney reached for his hand and held it tight as they headed for the stairs. The gesture warmed something in Luke that he hadn’t known was cold.

  They descended the stairs as a unit, but Luke’s heart pounded with dread and anxiety. Mr. and Mrs. Donovan had never tried to hide their contempt for the lowly dockworker who’d loved their fair-haired only child. Luke wondered if facing them would be any easier as an adult than it’d been as a kid. He doubted it.

  The Donovans waited for them in the kitchen, their faces tight with displeasure. Sydney released Luke’s hand to hug and kiss her parents. They seemed to soften as they embraced their daughter.

  “What’re you doing back so soon?” Syd asked.

  “We were concerned about you being here alone all month,” her mother said with a pointed look for Luke. “But it seems you haven’t been alone.”

  “Luke has been a great friend to me, Mom.”

  “I’m sure,” Mr. Donovan said under his breath.

  Luke knew if he didn’t get out of there—immediately—he was going to say something he’d regret. Because he was no longer nineteen and easily intimidated, he kissed Syd’s forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

  Sydney followed him out of the house. “Luke, wait. Please don’t go.”

  Turning to her, he hated the anxiety he saw in her expression. “It’s fine. You need to talk to them, and I need to go before I make it worse.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “I know you don’t, and that matters, believe me.”

  “Will I see you later?”

  “That’s up to you.” He ran a finger over her cheek. “You know where to find me.”

  “I’m sorry about this.”

  He attempted a wry grin, hoping to boost her spirits. “Some things never change, huh?”

  “And other things do. I’m not beholden to them anymore. I love and respect them, and I owe them so much for the way they propped me up after the accident, but they don’t run my life.”

  He glanced at the house to find Mrs. Donovan peeking at them through the blinds. “I’m not the one who needs to hear that.”

  “I know,” she said, resigned.

  “This is the last thing you need on top of everything with Buddy. If you want me to disappear for a while, I can do that. Whatever you need.”

  “Don’t you dare disappear on me!”

  Her fierce tone drew a smile from him. “I’ll see you,” he said, stealing a quick kiss.

  “Yes, you will.”

  Sydney stood in the driveway until Luke’s truck disappeared from view, then squared her shoulders and went inside.

  “Honestly,” her mother, Mary Alice, said, “what in the world are you doing with him?”

  “And where’s Buddy?” her dad, Allan, added.

  Gritting her teeth to keep from shrieking at them, she said, “Buddy’s at the vet clinic.” She told them what’d happened the night before, which clearly upset them. “Luke was right by my side through the whole ordeal. He’s been very good to me.”

  “Because he wants you back,” Mary Alice said. “Can’t you see that?”

  “I know he does, because he’s told me as much.”

  “Sydney,” Mary Alice said in that disapproving tone that reminded Syd so much of the summer she was nineteen and her parents had convinced her she could do so much better than Luke. As if she’d read Syd’s mind, her mother added, “You could do so much better.”

  Furious, Syd threw her hands in the air. “There it is! The famous line! Guess what? There’s hardly anyone better than Luke. He’s one of the kindest, sweetest, gentlest people I’ve ever known. He is too good for me, if you want the truth.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Allan said.

  “Is he kinder and sweeter than Seth was?” Mary Alice asked, hands on hips, girded for battle.

  The question shocked Sydney to the core, causing her eyes to fill and her throat to close. She ran upstairs and started throwing clothes into a backpack.

  One thing was patently clear to her—it was time to take control of her life. And what felt good and right to her at the moment was being with Luke. Whether she was ready to commit to him permanently, she couldn’t say, but that didn’t need to be decided today or even tomorrow.

  Her mother came to the door as Sydney zipped her backpack.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that about Seth.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.”

  “I don’t want to see you going backward, Syd. You need to be moving forward.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  “You’re vulnerable, honey. Luke knows that. He’s taking advantage—”

  Sydney spun around. “Do not finish that thought. He has been nothing but patient and accommodating and supportive. I feel better being with him than I have since before my life was shattered. Don’t take that away from me by being narrow-minded about who and what you think he is.” She zipped her bag. “You don’t know him at all because you never bothered to take the time to know him. You were too busy judging him for all the things you thought he lacked.”

  “We only want what’s best for you—then and now.”

  “If that’s the case, then trust me to decide that for myself. I’m not a child anymore, Mom. I won’t let you run off the man I love because you fear he won’t fit in at the country club.”

  “Mary Alice,” her father said, startling both women. “She has to find her own way, even if we don’t approve.”

  “If you knew Luke at all, Dad, you’d approve. Trust me on that, too.”

  “The boy never had an ounce of ambition,” he said. “He’s doing the same job he did as a kid. We wanted better for you than that.”

  “He was filled with ambition,” Sydney said. “He earned a scholarship to college that he turned down to stay here to take care of his sick mother. Doesn’t he get any credit for that?”

  “Why didn’t he go after she died?” Allan asked.

  “I don’t know, but it wasn’t due to a lack of ambition. I can assure you of that.” Sydney hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder and slid her feet into flip-flops.

  “Where are you going?” Mary Alice asked.

  “Into town to check on Buddy.”

  “And then?”

  “To Luke’s.”

  “We haven’t seen you in weeks,” Mary Alice said. “We were hoping to have dinner tonight.”

  “If that’s what you wanted, maybe you could’ve been a little nicer to my friend.” Sydney headed for the stairs, and they followed her.

  “When will we see you?” Allan asked.

  Sydney grabbed her purse, keys and cell phone off the counter. “I don’t know.” She headed for the door but stopped herself, knowing she couldn’t leave them like this. If the accident had taught her anything, it was to leave nothing left unsaid. Turning to them, she studied their faces, hating how dramatically they’d aged in the last year.

  “I love you both very much. I never would’ve survived everything that happened without your love and support. A long time ago, I made the mistake of allowing you to tell me how I was supposed to think and feel, and a decent, honorable young man was terribly hurt by my choices. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  The moment she was buckled into her car, all her bravado drained away, leaving her shaken and rattled. She’d just stood up to her parents for the first time in thirty-six years. Declaring her independence should’ve left her feeling exhilarated. Instead she was sad that she’d needed to do it in the first place.

  Ned walked the length of Ocean Road twice before he stopped at the gravel drive that led to the Sturgil place. Old Wendell Sturgil had been a school friend of his a hundred years ago. Now Wendell’s son lived in the family home, married to the daughter of the only woman Ned had
ever loved.

  Francine Tornquist had stolen his young heart the first time he laid eyes on her, fresh off the ferry to work the summer at the Beachcomber damn near thirty-two years ago now. From his perch at the cabstand, he’d seen her struggling with bags and had insisted on walking her and her luggage up the hill and across Ocean Road to the hotel.

  She’d had fiery red hair and a figure that made Ned want to drool just thinking about it even all these years later. That first summer, he’d made it a point to put himself in her path every day until she finally agreed to go out with him. Ned had just about worked up the nerve to ask her to marry him when Bobby Chester showed up on the island with a gang of pals for a bachelor party weekend. Francine never looked at Ned again after smooth-talking Bobby swept her off her feet.

  For years after Bobby left her alone with two little girls to care for, Ned had hoped Francine would come to him, but she never had. Now here he was lurking in her driveway wishing he’d had the nerve to approach her after her good-for-nothing husband left her to fend for herself and her kids. Back then his pride had kept him away.

  Seeing young Luke Harris together again with the girl he’d once loved had given Ned the courage to take a chance. Well, it had given him the courage to lurk in the woman’s driveway anyway. He’d heard through the grapevine that Francine was living above the dance studio where her younger daughter, Tiffany, taught dance classes. Her other daughter, Maddie, was married to Little Mac McCarthy. Happy as clams, the two of them.

  “Well,” he said, slapping the dust off his best khaki shorts, “here goes nuttin.” He’d even combed his hair and trimmed his beard in honor of the occasion. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done either. Head held high, he marched up the driveway, past the house where Jim and Tiffany lived with their young daughter, to the stairway that led to the apartment.

  Ignoring the boogie skip of his heart and the tremble of his hands, Ned climbed the stairs and rapped on the door.