Love in the Details (10 page)

He wasn't someone who gave his trust and affection easily. He had a cautious personality, a tendency toward solitude, and just a few close friends and family members. He was powerfully self-controlled.

Was. Because none of that held true around Holly. When he was around her, he wanted to buy her things, and take her places, and hold her in his arms. He'd cared about her more than she'd cared for him all those years ago. And he cared about her more again now. What was his problem?

His problem was that she was his weakness.

He'd succeeded at a lot in this life. How could it be that he'd failed, and was continuing to fail, at not loving her?

For weeks, Sam had been telling Holly that Rob liked her and that it was only a matter of time before he made his move. Late on Sunday afternoon, he finally did.

When she heard the knock on her door, Holly immediately thought,
Josh?
Even though Josh had never knocked on her door and wouldn't even know where to find her apartment. She answered the door in a state of breathlessness.

She found Rob standing in the hallway. He had a Thor vibe going, what with the muscles and the long blond hair. He'd paired a white T-shirt with a pair of those baggy pants that chefs favored. His white coat lay folded over his shoulder.

“Hey,” Holly said. Of course it wasn't Josh. She had no reason to feel let down. “On the way to work?”

“Yeah. Since it's Sunday it'll probably be slow. I'm thinking I'll be done around nine-thirty.”

“Cool.”

“Would you like to meet me afterward at Vinnie's for dessert?”

Whenever she and Rob had gone places in the past, they'd gone in a group that included Sam. Sometimes Mr. Perfect or one of Rob's buddies joined them. “Sam and Mr. Perfect are shopping at Pottery Barn in San Antonio today.” Which is pretty much how Holly imagined young married couples without kids spent the bulk of their time.

“I know.” He gave her a cute I-was-hoping-to-get-dessert-with-you-alone smile.

“Oh. Well.” Her thoughts darted in five nervous directions. “Sure. You know me. I never pass up a chance to eat Vinnie's chocolate pie.”

“Good.” He turned on his heel. “I'll text you.”

“'Kay.”

Holly spent the next hour pacing her apartment. Josh had asked her to go with him to the Olive Oil Company and Rob had asked her out for dessert. Two men had issued invitations in the space of a week. Single, handsome men! Instead of elated, however, the invitations—one she'd turned down, one she'd accepted—had left her feeling troubled.

She grabbed her coat, scarf, hat, and reversed her Miata from its parking space. Twenty minutes passed before she realized she'd driven by many of the places where she and Josh had spent time together during their romance. She'd taken herself on a Josh Memory Tour without meaning to.

At the Brenners' house, she and Josh had sat inside Bryan Brenner's Jacuzzi during Bryan's graduation party. Green light had illuminated the still, hot water surrounding them. She could remember how Josh had looked, staring at her through the steam.

A bank and a 7-Eleven now occupied the plot where Josh's apartment building had once stood. She could taste the microwave popcorn, seasoned with paprika and parsley, that had been his mom's specialty. They'd eaten it while watching X-Men DVDs in the small living room.

Their high school hadn't changed in any way, except for the new sign out front. Josh had first said
I love you
to her
on one otherwise normal day during the spring semester of their senior year. They'd been in the hallway together. The bell had already rung and kids had been hurrying past them. She and Josh had been about to part and go in opposite directions when he'd pulled her back to him.

“I love you,” he'd said. And he'd said it with the most solemn seriousness, as if he'd been unable to wait another minute to tell her, as if he was about to be shipped overseas to fight a battle, as if he was dying. And Holly had felt like she was dying, too, except from bliss and lack of oxygen because he'd stolen all her breath.

Then he'd smiled a crooked smile at her. She'd known she loved him before he'd said the words. But it was that crooked smile there in that school hallway that had settled the matter in her heart.

Sam would definitely
not
approve of her Josh Memory Tour.

Sighing, Holly turned onto the road that wound past a park and picnic area at the edge of Lake Cypress Bend. The sun had just set but full darkness hadn't yet descended. She parked and went to sit on top of a vacant picnic table.

The bulbs on the light posts glowed through the hazy evening, making their illumination appear soft, round, enchanted. Several families dotted the area, some at the playground, some at the lakeshore or on the dock, fishing. Everyone had bundled up to ward off the chill. The children's voices carried on the same breeze that spun leaves from their branches.

She and Josh had sat here, on this exact table, numerous times. This had been their spot. Sometimes they'd come
here to eat. Sometimes, just to hang out and talk. She'd sat here with him, her head resting on his shoulder, contentment weaving circles around and around her. She could recall how he'd kissed her, and how her body had rushed in response with the joy and awe of it.

A twig cracked behind her and she swung to face the direction with a gasp.
Josh?

The twig had been broken by two kids, kicking up leaves.

Rob just asked you out. Your neighbor and friend, Rob, who is a very decent person and good-looking to boot. Think about Rob, Holly. Think about Rob
.

Holly came to understand, in very clear detail, why Sam scorned the idea of waiting by the phone for a man to call. Sam scorned it because living that way stunk.

Even though Holly knew Josh wouldn't call, she took her phone with her everywhere. It was ridiculous. Josh had no reason to call her. He no longer needed help planning the rehearsal dinner.

Nonetheless, when she slipped into bed at night, she rested her cell phone within arm's reach on her bedside table. She double-checked it frequently throughout the day to ensure that it was charged and prepared to receive a text message or a call from Josh.

Neither came.

She looked for him when she drove around town and each time she entered a shop or restaurant, without success.

Her rational mind knew that remaining separate from
him was the best possible thing for the preservation of her well-being. Her irrational heart, however, couldn't get over the fact that she'd never again have this sort of proximity with him. Josh's time in Martinsburg was vanishing.

The days leading up to Thanksgiving, beautiful days gilded with autumn, should have been too full to dwell on Josh. Her wedding coordinator duties had kicked into fourth gear thanks to Mitzi's astonishing doggedness. Her work on her book had intensified too. Like a round stone that had topped a rise and begun to roll downhill, her plot was picking up speed. She had blog posts to write for her website and marketing to catch up on.

In pursuit of their Year of Restaurants quest, Holly and Sam hit Martinsburg's only Indian food joint and then the most girly sandwich/salad/soup restaurant the town had to offer.

Holly and Rob's dessert date had gone smoothly. In fact, it had been much like their group outings, minus other humans. There'd been chocolate pie, but no romantic feelings on Holly's part. Rob had asked her out again afterward, but since she didn't know how she felt about more one-on-one dates with him yet, she'd declined.

The day before Thanksgiving, Holly's immediate family (and her sister's fabulous new boyfriend) poured into Martinsburg. In tandem with their arrival, great, low-lying banks of clouds rolled over central Texas and coated the town with a steady drizzle. The precipitation escalated on Thursday to rain that alternated from light to downpour.

As was their tradition, the Morgans sat down together in their family home for a formal Thanksgiving meal of turkey
and all the fixings, served on Holly's mother's Lennox wedding china.

Afterward, they gathered in the living room in front of the fireplace. Holly's dad coddled the fire into snapping peaks of flame. The smell of pumpkin pie hung in the air and football played on TV. Drowsy from the tryptophan she'd just consumed, Holly daydreamed about where Josh might be spending the day while the rest of the family engaged in their two most popular pastimes: cooing over Holly's older brother's gorgeously chubby toddler and revering Holly's younger sister for her pursuit of a law degree.

The only member of the family not present? Shadow. The cat had hidden under Holly's parents' bed in mute protest of the invaders who'd overtaken her residence.

Late that night, Josh was fighting insomnia and thinking of Holly, when a sudden suspicion slid into his mind. He sat up in bed, paused for a few seconds to think, then dashed aside the covers.

He hoped he was wrong. He really hoped he hadn't overlooked something so important. Surely, he hadn't.

In his plaid pajama pants, he padded down the stairs of his rented house into the kitchen. His laptop waited on the granite counter. Scowling, he pulled up his assistant's final guest list document for the rehearsal dinner.

He scrolled down the list of alphabetized names. The tile floor chilled the soles of his feet and cold air blew across his bare back.

Holly wasn't listed. She'd spent hours driving over the Hill Country with him to look at locations. She'd shared advice and ideas with him. All for a rehearsal dinner he'd forgotten to invite her to. She hadn't mentioned his oversight to him the two times they'd gone to the caterer. She'd remained quiet and polite about it while helping him pick out the menu, for pity's sake.

Josh blew out a breath, disgusted with himself.

It had occurred to him, after that night at Das Lokal when he'd told her he'd booked the Olive Oil Company, that he needed to ask his staff to double check the guest list, and if she wasn't on it, to mail Holly an invitation. He'd made a mental note of it. Planned to do it. But the list in front of him proved that he hadn't followed through.

He'd been distracted and forgetful lately. He'd been distracted and forgetful because his mind was so occupied with Holly.

The rehearsal dinner would take place tomorrow night. He straightened, pushing both hands into his hair as he stared down at the glowing screen.

He was a jerk. A jerk who needed to make things right.