by Kay Lyons
Yeah, he did. But not here. And definitely not with Carter listening to every word.
Without warning, Carter smacked his hand under Lincoln’s. The phone flew up in the air. Carter grabbed it and swiped to answer in a lightning-fast move.
Lincoln scrambled out of his chair, but Carter dodged him, as agile as ever.
“Marsali, Carter here. Lincoln’s afraid to talk to you because he’s still hung up on Amelia. Don’t let him off the hook. Set them up again, okay?” Carter said, battling Lincoln’s attempts to take possession of his phone. “Yeah. No matter what he says, he’ll be there. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Give me that,” Lincoln said, finally managing to get the phone away from his brother. Lincoln glowered at Carter, his hand so tight around the phone he heard the case crack. “You’re dead.”
Carter grinned. “Just doing you a favor.”
A favor? How was he going to explain things to Marsali now?
Carter stood there beaming like the lunatic he could sometimes be, and Lincoln walked away from his brother with a low growl as he raised the phone to his ear. “Marsali, it’s Lincoln. I’m sorry about that. We’re at a concert and… let me get out of the crowd to talk.”
“Take your time,” Marsali said, her sweet voice filling his ear.
Lincoln moved to the back of the gathering where he could pace since he had a tendency to do that whenever he had to discuss something stressful. “Okay, so… yeah. I’m assuming you’ve already spoken with Amelia?”
“I have. She explained that you two have a history. That’s the first time that’s happened to me but I’m not surprised. You two match very well on paper. As soon as you called me to give me the go-ahead to set you up for an interview, I knew you and Amelia would be a good fit.”
“Yeah, well, I’m… not so sure that’s the case.”
“Amelia said the date went well once the initial surprise wore off. You don’t agree?”
He swiped a hand over his face and rubbed hard but the tension remained. “The date was fine. It’s just…” Marsali waited for him to finish, but her silence didn’t help Lincoln form an acceptable excuse.
“Lincoln, first dates are always hard, and I imagine this one was doubly so with you coming out of mourning only to find Amelia there. Before you say anything else, let me ask a few questions. Did you have fun? Enjoy yourself?”
He inhaled and sighed. “Yeah. I suppose I did for the most part.”
“Were you still attracted to Amelia? Have chemistry?”
He pictured her in his mind, her long legs and that skirt and the way she smiled up at him. “Yes.”
“Okay. So far so good. My next question has to be, have you forgiven her for what happened twenty years ago?”
“Forgiving and forgetting are two very different things, Marsali. Amelia didn’t just end our relationship, she packed her bags in the middle of the night and took off without another word. I needed her. Even if we didn’t get married right away, I needed her. I’d just lost my parents, was given guardianship of Carter so long as I could show a stable home life for him, and she nearly wrecked all of it.”
“Did you lose Carter?”
“No, but—”
“If you had stayed with her and lost Carter anyway, would you have blamed her?”
“Of course not.”
“Okay, so if that’s the case, what about what happened after she left? You met someone, fell in love, and married. If you had the chance to do things over again, would you change the path you took because Amelia left?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to three. “Marsali, I’m not giving you excuses. They’re reasons why she isn’t trustworthy.”
“Few eighteen-year-olds are trustworthy, Lincoln, and from what you said, she was under a lot of pressure. In speaking with Amelia, I know she had a lot on her plate from a young age with her parents and siblings.”
Lincoln’s argument faltered and shattered into a fast death because Marsali was right. Amelia was the eldest of seven kids in a working-class family. She’d cared for her siblings since they’d been born, sacrificing after-school sports and friends and fun due to duty and responsibility. Even dating her had been an issue because it meant she could only go out if one of her parents was home.
And then he’d wanted her to marry him and take on him and Carter.
He’d been overwhelmed at the time. So burdened by all that had happened he hadn’t looked at things from her perspective. As an adult, as a parent, now he understood the weight of what he’d asked of her. He also knew that he probably could’ve talked her into accepting his proposal if given more time, which was no doubt why she’d been so desperate she’d… run away?
Wait.
It was his fault? How had he not seen things from her perspective? Was he that much of a schmuck back then to think she should give up her life for them?
“Lincoln?” Marsali asked. “Are you there?”
A breath huffed out of his chest as the reality of the past sank in along with the present. Free. Twenty years later, they were both free to do as they pleased. Start fresh. If they wanted.
Would things be different now?
“Lincoln? Hello?”
“Yeah,” he said, shaking himself out of the storm in his mind. “I’m here. The, uh, band is getting ready to start back up but I… I think I would like to see Amelia again after all. If she’s willing.”
“You’re sure? I don’t want there to be any misconceptions here. If you’d rather not, I can set you up with someone else, but once you pass on another date with Marsali, you understand you can’t go back?”
“No, I understand. I’m sure. I want to see her.” He had to see her again, if for no other reason than to own up to his mistakes and set the record straight now that the fog had cleared from his brain. He couldn’t imagine Breanne taking on such a thing at her age, and yet that’s what he’d expected of Amelia.
“Oh, good. That’s great news,” Marsali said. “I’d be happy to arrange things. Do you have a particular date idea in mind?”
Chapter 8
“You’re seeing him again?” Izzy said the following week, her voice muffled. “Awesome. See? I told you to give Lincoln some time and he’d come around.”
“You sound weird. What are you doing? Are you in a tunnel, and if so, why?” Izzy had done some crazy things in the years Amelia had known her, all for her art and the attention it would bring to the causes she held so dear.
Amelia pulled out yet another blouse from the rack and wished her friend was here to give her clothing advice again. Everything she saw in her closet sucked, and she wondered what had possessed her to purchase them.
“Um, is th-that better?”
Amelia paused and listened intently. What was Izzy doing? “Yeah, but you still didn’t tell me what’s happening over there. Are you home? On the island?” Another long… Were those pants? Not the wearable kind but the kind that came when two people were… “Izzy? Is someone with you?”
“I really have to go, Amelia.”
Oh, really? “You can’t,” Amelia said, instilling all the desperation she could into her voice. “Izzy, I need help picking out an outfit, and since you got me into this, you have to help me. Don’t you dare hang up,” she ordered with a grin, wondering how long she could keep Izzy on the phone while her friend did whatever it was she was doing. Paybacks were, well, that, after all.
“Um.”
“No excuses. You have to help me. I can’t do this without you,” Amelia added, struggling to keep the laughter out of her voice.
“Meli, you look great in everything.”
“That’s not what you said last—”
“Oh.” Gasp. “I really have to— Bye!”
Izzy’s goodbye emerged high-pitched and decidedly breathless, and Amelia’s eyes widened as the phone clicked in her ear. She tossed it atop the bed, laughing at her friend’s antics.
Well, well, well. Izzy could be doing something
weird like crawling through a tunnel creating an art piece she didn’t want to discuss because she never wanted to “lose the magic of creation,” but she was also a fairly free spirit, which meant any number of other possibilities. Had Izzy met someone? And if she had, why hadn’t she shared this info?
Focus on you. Hello? Time is running out.
She glanced at her watch and groaned before flipping through her clothing at a faster rate.
Marsali’s instructions had been to dress casual. But how casual? It was a date, after all. And evening. A hot, muggy August evening in the south. She’d melt in the heat but get potentially cool in the muggy breezes. Decisions, decisions.
She inhaled and turned toward the opposite side, sliding through her clothes there. Examining, discarding, and wondering how one could own what she did and hate absolutely everything.
Stop letting your nerves get you. You wanted a second date and got it. That’s all that matters. One step at a time. He’s not going to care what you wear.
But how could she not let her nervousness impact her mood when she was so aware of the fact Lincoln had had no intention of seeing her again after their first date? She’d learned to trust her instincts over the years, and when Lincoln had left her at her car that night, she knew he had no intention of seeing her again.
What had changed his mind? Would he change it again? Was she getting her hopes up only to have them crushed later on? “Auuuugh!”
She closed her eyes and forced the what-ifs away. Tonight she had a date with a very handsome man whom she liked. End of story. No projecting what the future might or might not hold. Besides, she had a backup plan if things didn’t work out.
But the thought of having Lincoln’s baby?
“Stop, stop, stop,” she ordered, opening her eyes and grabbing the next piece of clothing that came to hand.
This. She’d wear this. Well, maybe not.
Unless… She eyed the sleeveless romper with a critical stare. It did showcase her long legs, and Lincoln had always liked her legs. But she was meeting him at the marina, which meant there was a boat involved. Regardless of whether it stayed docked or not, the breeze on the water could be cool.
She turned to survey the rest of her closet with desperate eyes and spotted a lightweight duster that might give her just enough protection from the wind. It paired well with the romper and would add a little dramatic effect. She scrambled to find shoes, another pair of wedges that added to her height, and once dressed, she took a look in the mirror.
Yeah. That worked.
A classic song came to mind and she smiled. She’s definitely got legs.
An hour later, Amelia parked her SUV at the marina and took a deep breath. No pressure. No expectations. No thoughts of the future or babies. Not tonight. Tonight she wouldn’t think about her age or upcoming appointments or anything else. She would stay in the moment and simply breathe.
She exhaled slowly and swung her legs out of the vehicle, only then remembering to grab her bag and the duster lying in the seat beside her. Once she had those in hand, she got out and locked the car with a press of the key fob.
She had to slow her steps as she walked toward the boats bobbing up and down at their moorings. The little rocks atop the asphalt shifted randomly beneath her four-inch wedges and left her very aware that a slip and tumble would not be a good way to start a date.
Finally she made it onto the planks and searched the area for Lincoln as she slowly walked down the length.
“Hey, beautiful.”
She turned at the sound of the male voice but found a very sun-grizzled and drunk man.
“You’re looking for me, sweetheart,” the man added, grinning. “Come join us.”
The friends with him chuckled, and she turned away with a silent shake of her head and bumped nose to chest into Lincoln.
“She’s with me,” Lincoln stated firmly as he wrapped an arm around her to steady her. “Sorry, boys.”
Lincoln steered her back up the ramp the way she’d come and across the way to another. Neither of them spoke until they were out of earshot of the group of men.
“I saw you drive in but wasn’t in time to meet you before you’d headed the wrong way. Sorry about that.”
Amelia liked the feel of his hand at her back, riding just above her hip. It was a show of protection and possession, both of which sent a tingle of pleasure up her spine. “All good. Which one is yours?”
“The Pearl.”
“After your mother.” Sweet. But then Lincoln had always been sweet. She remembered the night his parents had been killed. The night she’d spent cradling him as close as he would let her as he stared into space and tried to process the news while Carter slept upstairs.
Lincoln hopped aboard the Pearl and held out his hand to help her cross. She caught him looking at her long legs and her body warmed. Good choice. “So are we staying here? Eating onboard?”
“Nope. We’re heading out, and before you ask where, you’ll see soon enough. As much as I like the sight of you in those shoes, though, you might want to remove them. Save an ankle or two.”
So they weren’t taking the boat to a restaurant? Okay then.
Amelia settled herself in the chair behind the high windshield beside Lincoln after he loosed the vessel and started the powerful engine. She donned the duster she’d brought with her as they trolled slowly out of the marina and into the Intercoastal, where Lincoln increased speed.
The wind made it difficult to talk without practically yelling, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. She stared out at the passing scenery, the beautiful homes and lights that looked so serene in the setting sunlight.
There was something about being on the water. Something natural and freeing yet primal. The sights and sounds and smells cleared her mind of worry and wondering what the future would hold, blew away all but the moment at hand and the occasional whiff of Lincoln’s sandalwood cologne.
Lincoln handled the expensive boat with careful precision, his hands practiced and steady. She remembered those hands touching her many years ago, and the memories brought another flush to her cheeks. Hot-blooded teenagers would be teenagers, after all.
She turned away from him to stare out once more, only then becoming aware of the boat slowing as they approached an isolated stretch of Masonboro Island.
Her nervousness suddenly kicked into gear once more. As dating teens, they’d bummed a lot of boat rides out to the uninhabited island. It was the best place to shell hunt and sun and party without the adults getting judgmental. But now there were no parties. No lights. No people. What were they doing here?
Lincoln anchored the craft with the expertise of an experienced boatsman. The only problem was they were still quite a ways from shore due to the size of the vessel, which meant—
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” Lincoln said in that deep voice of his.
He jumped into the water and carried two huge backpacks toward shore. Once those were safely on the beach, he returned and held out his arms, waving his fingers for her to jump.
Amelia laughed, glad she’d taken off her shoes earlier when he’d told her to. She tied the loose ends of the long duster around her waist to keep it from getting wet. She held on to the railing as she stepped over the side, getting her balance before she jumped, and even though she didn’t mean to, she shrieked when Lincoln caught her. His chuckle warmed her ear and sent a sizzling tingle racing through her, making her tremble.
Lincoln cradled her high against his chest as he waded through the water, and in moments, her feet hit the sand.
“Hang tight while I change out of these wet clothes.”
He pulled something from one of the backpacks and moved into the darkness toward a dune. Despite having seen it all before, she turned her back on him, toes digging into the sand at the effort he’d already made for their second date. Men like Lincoln… Well, she was grateful for a second chance. She wouldn’t blow this one.
“Think you can manage on
e of these?” he asked moments later, handing her one of the backpacks.
She took it and knew it had to be the lighter of the two given the way his muscles bulged when he lifted the other. “Yes. I’ve got it.”
“Good. Ready?”
He grasped her hand and led her away from the beach, toward the interior, following a barely visible trail toward the center of the narrow expanse. Lincoln warned her of rough patches along the way and even grasped her waist and lifted her and the pack over a couple of spots to protect her bare feet.
Lincoln’s broad shoulders filled the space in front of her, so she focused on their clasped hands and putting her feet where he treaded. When he stopped and stepped to the side, she gasped at what she saw in the fading light of the day. He’d… Wow.
There. Away from the water and tide that would wash it away was a pit with a stash of wood at the center, surrounded by a circular sand bench. Just like the one Lincoln and Carter, along with a group of friends, had dug that last perfect summer day before Lincoln’s parents had been killed and their lives had imploded.
Tears stung her eyes at the sweetness of it. Leave it to Lincoln to remember her comment after that day that she couldn’t wait for them to return for a picnic—just the two of them. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“I can’t take all the credit. Carter, my kids and their dates, and I dug it out a few months back for the twins’ graduation celebration. Thankfully it’s stayed pretty much intact,” Lincoln said, taking the backpack from her shoulder to dig inside. “I brought the wood out earlier today and fixed what needed fixed.”
From the backpack she carried, he produced a couple of blankets and small pillows along with a lighter, portable speaker, and bug repellant coils and candles. He lit everything meant to be lit, then opened the second, larger backpack, which held a cooler with bread, cheeses, fruits, crackers, and tiny bottles of wine along with stemless wineglasses. She watched the process with dazed appreciation. “You’ve thought of everything.”
“Not yet.”
Lincoln removed his phone from a pocket, and with the press of a few buttons, soft music filled the air.
