Cape Cod Promises: Love on Rockwell Island (14 page)

“Because it reminded you of us?”

When she nodded, Trent hated knowing she’d gone without something she loved because of him. He stepped in closer. “I’m so sorry about last night. Not that we made love—you know I love being close to you, and I wouldn’t give back those moments with you in my arms for anything—but I know it was too soon.”

“It wasn’t,” she said quickly, surprising him with both her words and the warmth of her hand over his. “I wanted you just as much as you wanted me. And I refuse to regret what happened last night. It’s just that this is all a lot to take in. But...”

She paused to try to gather her thoughts, and his heart hammered even faster as he waited for her to finish. Only, she didn’t finish it with words. Instead, she put down the cup, lifted her hands to his face, and gave him a kiss that was sweet and seductive all at once.

“Thank you for the smoothie, Trent. Have a good day working at the resort.”

He couldn’t quite figure out how to form words as he stepped away, walking backward so that he could hold the image of her in his mind for as long as possible. He blew her a kiss and jogged away with a big grin.

Despite the incredible kiss she’d just given him, he knew the road ahead likely wouldn’t be completely smooth. But nothing in life that mattered was easy. He’d never failed at a damn thing besides his marriage—the one and only thing that mattered.

What he’d felt when he was making love with Reese last night—and what he saw in her eyes every time they were together—was pure, unadulterated love, whether she was fully ready to accept it or not.

He believed in them, and hopefully, in time, she would, too.

And until then, he prayed there would be lots and lots more kisses, just like the one she’d given him today.

* * *

REESE COULDN’T STOP smiling as she drove to her gallery. Once inside, she went directly to her workspace and, without second-guessing herself, tacked the picture of her and Trent to her easel. For the next few hours, while she wasn’t able to concentrate on any one thing for too long, every time she saw the picture, joy bubbled up inside of her.

“What is with you today?” Jocelyn asked as Reese organized a new display of paintings for a second time. “It’s like you’re on speed.”

I’m on a new drug called Trent.
Reese stopped in her tracks with the thought and bit her lower lip to keep the words from escaping. Especially since Trent wasn’t actually new, was he? More like she was back on an old drug that was suddenly more addictive than ever.

“I just...”
Need to stop thinking about how good it felt to be with him last night—and how much I loved kissing him again this morning
.

“I haven’t seen you like this since—” Jocelyn’s eyes grew huge. “Oh my God, you slept with him! Did you at least make it out of your apartment this time?”

“Of course we did.” She purposefully left off the
just barely
part of the sentence.

“Well,” Jocelyn said in her own defense, “considering we’re talking about the man you had sex with in the bathroom of the movie theater, in the car by the pond, behind the bushes in the park—”

“Boulders! They were boulders, not bushes!” Why had she ever shared those details with her friend?
Because I was bursting with excitement.
Only now I’m older. More mature. I’ve lasted
—she glanced at the clock—
a few hours without gushing like a schoolgirl
.

“Whatever.” Jocelyn brushed her clarifications aside. “Just tell me one thing. Am I allowed to be excited for you, or do you want me to tell you to slow down?”

“Honestly,” Reese said as she forced herself to sit like a normal person in a chair even though her insides were still bouncing all around, “I don’t know what I want or how you can help. I only know that the minute we kissed, it was like all those years never happened. We’re still so in sync with each other. We’re still so…”

“Mushy. Sappy.” Jocelyn smiled. “And, obviously, still deeply in love with each other.” When Reese’s eyes went wide at that statement, her friend said, “I knew it the second I saw the picture on your easel. He’s back in your heart, isn’t he?”

“You look as conflicted as I am about it,” Reese said. “Your eyebrows are all pinched together and your jaw is tight.
You’re
the one who’s supposed to have the clear head in this.”

“You’re my best friend in the whole world, and you know I want you to be totally happy. If Trent makes you happy, that’s wonderful, but...” Jocelyn paused before saying, “This is very familiar. What if after six months he’s right back to working a hundred hours a week and I have to mop up your tears again?”

“He says he’s changed, that he didn’t know how to handle our relationship before. Neither of us did, Joce. I screwed up just as badly by being so damn scared of everything in the city.” She met Jocelyn’s concerned gaze. “All I know is that when I’m with him, I feel alive again, and when we kiss…” Her insides went gooey again, and her knees went weak just thinking about Trent’s mouth on hers. “When we kiss, everything feels right again. But...”

“Then you remember how hurt you were.”

“And I get scared,” Reese said with a small nod, thankful that her best friend understood her so well. Because she’d never needed her more than she did right now.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” Jocelyn said. “How can I help?”

“Just promise me that you’ll be honest with me. If you think I’m acting crazy, if you think I’m getting too wrapped up in him, promise me you’ll say something to me.”

“Do you
really
want me to be honest? Or is this one of those honest-in-a-BFF-way things, where I’m supposed to support whatever you want and keep my worries to myself?”

“Pure honesty,” Reese made herself say, “even if it hurts.”

Jocelyn look undecided for a moment, before she finally sighed and said, “Okay, then here it is. The pure, honest truth. Are you ready for it?”

Reese gulped. “I’d be lying if I said yes, but I want you to lay it on me anyway.”

“I never thought you were over Trent. I know we tried to get you there, but I have never seen you happier than when you two were good together. He’s here now, not in New York. His life is different. Your life is different. You’re not a naive nineteen-year-old anymore. You’re a grown woman with your own gallery,
and
your artwork is shown in some of the most prestigious galleries in New York and Boston. There’s hope and promise in all of that. But…And there are two big ‘buts’ coming.” She gentled her voice and expression to soften the blow. “The flip side of his making you so happy is that losing that happiness nearly destroyed you, and I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt like that again. But maybe that’s the risk you have to take to find out if your love for each other is as true now as you once thought it was.”

Reese covered her face with her hands and groaned. “What am I going to do?”

“Paint. You’ve been running around here like you can’t get your mind wrapped around any one thing, and the only way you have ever been able to center your mind is to paint. Go. I can handle the gallery. Your answers will come through your art. They always do.”

FINDING THE DEED should have taken Trent an hour, not several days. Fortunately, the kiss Reese had given him had him soaring so high that even the frustrating search for the deed couldn’t dull his mood.

The elevator doors opened on Chandler’s floor, and Trent’s chest tightened. Grandparents were supposed to be doting and loving toward their grandchildren. Or at least warm and friendly. Trent often wondered if perhaps Chandler had once been that way, before his wife died. But all Trent could remember was the way his grandfather had treated Grandma Caroline, like she was all the way at the bottom of his priority list.

As he stepped from the elevator, a memory whipped through him so suddenly that he had to press his palm to the wall to steady himself.
I’m last on your priority list—not just second to your job, but seventh or eighth, after your workday, parties, office events, and whatever else might lead to your success.
Reese had said this to him ten years ago after he’d chased her back to the island to ask her why she’d left him with nothing but a note saying she couldn’t be married to him anymore.
I don’t even recognize you anymore, Trent. What happened to the man I fell in love with? Where did he go?
Trent’s father had encouraged Trent and his siblings to strike out on their own, away from the island, away from Chandler, to ensure they could live their lives out from under Chandler’s oppressive thumb. But had Trent taken Griffin’s push too far? Had he tried to prove himself despite
all
costs—even when he’d been losing the love of his life?

The sound of his grandfather’s wheelchair turning into the hallway pulled him from his thoughts, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to push himself upright. Not when his mind was still drenched in
What the hell did I do?

“Trent?” Chandler grumbled as Didi pushed his wheelchair closer.

Trent forced his shoulders back, his stomach knotting. “Grandfather.” He lifted his eyes to Didi but was unable to force a smile. “Didi.”

“It’s nice to see you, Trent.” Didi’s warm tone softened his ache a little. She deserved a kinder greeting than a grumble that reminded Trent of the very person he didn’t want to be.

“You too, Didi.” He finally managed a smile.

Turning back to his grandfather, he said, “I’ve looked for the transfer documentation in the archives and in the office files. I’d like to avoid a trip to the courthouse, if possible, and I’m wondering if you have any idea where else Robert Faison might have put the files.”

“Faison.” A deep vee formed between Chandler’s brows. “You didn’t find the deed with the rest of our corporate documents?”

“No, and I’ve been through them all. The deed was never formally transferred to you. You must be receiving tax bills in your father’s name. I mean no disrespect, but didn’t you notice? Didn’t the accounting staff notice?”

“The tax bills always came in his name,” Chandler said as his frown deepened. “I never worried about it.”

“I had hoped that we might have the original documentation, but since we don’t, I’ll get to work putting together new transfer documents. Do you know if your father had intended to transfer the property prior to his death?”

“Of course he did. He signed all of the paperwork. Robert Faison had it, and I assumed they’d been filed. When he died so suddenly—” Chandler stopped his uncharacteristic dithering. “Do whatever needs to be done. I need that deed.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Didi.” Chandler motioned for her to push the button for the elevator.

Trent rode down the elevator with them, and when it opened, he pressed his hand to the door, holding it for Didi to push his grandfather’s wheelchair into the hall.

“Thank you, Trent,” Didi said as she settled a hand on Chandler’s shoulder. “We’re going down to the beach for a walk. Would you like to join us?”

Though Chandler looked surprised at her invitation, he didn’t counter it. And for a moment Trent was tempted to go with them. If only because he couldn’t imagine what a walk on the beach in the middle of the afternoon with his grandfather could possibly be like. Maybe Chandler really
was
changing his ways, just as Quinn had suggested a few weeks back when he’d overheard Chandler and Didi talking about commitment to family.

“Thanks for the invitation, but I’ve still got to take care of a few things in my office.” And the rest of his day would be all about Reese.

But as soon as he got back to his office and began gathering the documentation he’d need to prepare a new transfer of the deed, he couldn’t stop thinking about Reese—or how seeing himself in Chandler turned his stomach.

He’d apologized to her again and again these past days, but he knew those apologies weren’t good enough. He needed to do something more to make up for his past mistakes. The documents could wait—it was time to take a ride over to her gallery.

Just as he was about to head out, his office door swung open and Sierra walked in, looking pretty in a long wine-colored skirt. She didn’t even waste time on a greeting before saying, “How’re things working out with Reese and the mural?”

“She’s got a great sketch of it already.”

“That’s good.” Her gaze softened as she clarified, “But I was asking about
you.
Are you okay with working together?”

Trent knew how much Sierra loved the idea of being in love, and she’d been heartbroken when he and Reese had broken up. Hell, they all had been. “I’m more than okay with it, Sierra. I want her back. More than anything.”

“And Reese? What does she want?”

“More time.”

Sierra came around the desk and embraced him. “Love like you two shared doesn’t just go away. I’m sure she’ll come around. Who could possibly resist my loving, smart, handsome oldest brother?”

* * *

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER Trent stood on Old Mill Row, staring up at the sign above Reese’s gallery, wondering how he could have missed seeing the significance of it all these years. He studied the yellow dandelions on the left side of the sign, then followed their metamorphosis as they moved across the painting. The yellow flowers made a textured and graceful transition to parachutes of fluff, the delicate hairs separating and floating away toward the upper-right side of the sign. Below, the word
Dandelion
was elegantly tucked among the grass.

The endearment had come to him the first time they’d made love. There was something magical and ethereal, beautiful and soft, about dandelion fluff as it was swept away in a whisper of wind. Its beauty was almost indescribable, and there was something so magical and full of hope within its beauty as it traveled in the wind that it made everyone smile.

Just like his Reese.

How could he have spent a decade visiting the island and never put two and two together? He’d been so bogged down by the pain of her
Dear Trent
letter that he’d never seen the sign hanging above her gallery for what it was—her love letter to him, just waiting for him to return and figure it out.