moment.
“Good morning!” she called, waving to him.
“Good morning,” he replied. She looked like she was about to come out and start a conversation, so he turned and went back in without delay. She was nice enough — recently divorced, kind of attractive — but the last thing he needed right then was woman trouble.
Maybe it was time to move on, head off somewhere else. Seattle, maybe? Or Phoenix? Somewhere back East perhaps. No, he had cut his final ties there and become a permanent West Coast man five years earlier. Going back to school was a smart move, probably the best decision he ever made once he knew what he wanted to study. California had the added bonus of being closer to Susan and Gary who had been so good to him since he’d left home for keeps. Because of his estrangement from his parents, they were the only family he had left . . . well, them plus Eric and Millie, and John and Fiona. They were some of the best friends he’d ever had, and they were family to him too. Sometimes he missed Stuart, his best friend from childhood, but even before he left Tennessee, they hadn’t been together much anyway. Maybe it was inevitable — what life did to their friendship, how it pulled them apart — but a lot of that probably had to do with who Stuart married.
Stu and Ginny wanted him to be an usher at their wedding, but the idea of meeting up with Laurel Elliot again, even two years after their breakup, was extremely unappealing to him. He didn’t think he could contain his anger if he saw her again, and what good would that do any of them? The die had been cast. So, he begged off groomsman’s duties, giving Stuart some lame excuse about finals’ week. He didn’t even attend as a guest.
James ambled into the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee and headed into his study. On the antique secretary desk rested the charcoal sketch that Eric had commented on. Why do I keep that thing around? He stepped over and picked it up, holding it over the trash can in a moment of indecision. There had been several moments like this over the years. His heart gave the familiar momentary squeeze when he thought of Laurel— her long, jeans-clad legs, flaming red hair in a braid down her back, brilliant dark blue eyes, her amazing smile. But as always, the recurring anger quickly covered the fond memories. Sentimental rubbish, Marshall. You only think about her because you couldn’t have her. Maybe she wasn’t what you wanted anyway. One thing was painfully obvious though: she sure as hell didn’t want you.
Like a speeding car spinning out of control, the memory of the last time he saw her roared into his mind. Could it really have been all those years ago? Sometimes it still pissed him off as if it had just happened last week . . .
* * *
He turned into the familiar, gravel drive and began the long trek up to Laurel’s little cabin. She had done some work on it since she’d been home from college. There was a new coat of paint on the outside, and shutters now adorned the windows. He felt the draw of the place, the draw of her, and the rapid pace of his heart began to slow. It was like the whole world slowed down when he was there. He hoped she was home, but in this, as in so many other things that day, he was disappointed.
He found her in her father’s little office at the marina, working on a ledger of some sort. He walked in without knocking and shut the door behind him.
She looked up, blue eyes wide in momentary shock at the two days’ worth of stubble on his chin.
“James?”
“Hello, sweetheart.” He leaned over the table and kissed her, but it was a business-like peck on the lips rather than the all-consuming kiss that was inside him waiting to be unleashed.
“Why are you here?”
“I wrote you I was coming. Did I beat the letter here? I really wish you’d get a phone up at the cabin.”
“No, I got it — the letter, I mean. I just . . . ” She looked out the window. “I just hoped you’d think better of it and not come after all.”
“How could I not come? First of all, I find it impossible to believe that you would dump me