A Time for Us - By Amy Knupp Page 0,82

his clothes back on and headed to the common room. It was deserted and dark—not surprising since it was almost 2:00 a.m. Standing there in the center of the room, he felt closed-in and antsy. The air felt stale, confining.

Cale headed out to the patio on the beach and stared out at the dark water, his mind occupied by thoughts of Bess and Harold. He wondered where they’d wound up for the night.

Hell, who was he kidding? More than the couple’s lodging for the night, he was stuck on their relationship. For him to even give it a second thought said a bunch. There was such a vibe of love between the two of them, it’d been almost tangible. He’d had the thought then and it wouldn’t leave him alone now: he wanted that kind of bond for himself. And he wanted it with Rachel.

He wanted to be there when she woke up, as he had been the one day she’d slept in his arms. Wanted her to be with him for the tough times, as she had been that first time he’d gone back in the condo. He longed to bury all the painful stuff with happy things, good memories, laughter—and be the one by her side when the grief and sadness needed to surface.

His dad’s blunt question about letting Rachel go because of a woman who was no longer alive, once the ticked-off feeling had dissipated, had taken root in his head. At first he’d fought the idea tooth and nail and refused to even acknowledge the thoughts that were raging in his head. The past few days, though, he’d found himself thinking about it more freely. Thinking about Rachel. Admitting to himself he didn’t like not being able to see her or talk to her when he wanted to, which was several times a day.

And then Harold’s words...

Love isn’t always easy but it’s always worth it.

To have love with Rachel, he’d have to finally “let go” of Noelle.

Shakily, he sucked in the sea-fresh, almost chilly night air at the thought. It wouldn’t be easy. He had to do it whether Rachel was in the picture or not, for his own sake—because while he would always love Noelle on some level, if he held on to her as his fiancée, his future wife with whom he had no future, he was doomed to live his life in limbo. Without the love of another living, breathing woman, as his dad had pointed out.

Without Rachel.

She wasn’t ready yet, he knew, but he had to do what he could to make her see she was not responsible for Noelle’s death. That her feelings for him were not responsible. And if she still felt the same about him, he would spend the rest of his life showing her those feelings were reciprocated.

* * *

RACHEL HAD NO IDEA why she’d said yes when Cale’s sister had asked her to meet for coffee. She had no clue what Mariah wanted from her.

Rachel wasn’t an avid coffee drinker. She wasn’t a social person. She and Mariah were friendly but not friends. Her nerves jittered as she swished her grape-juice bottle around in circles in front of her.

From her spot in a large, rust-colored easy chair in the corner, Rachel watched for Mariah and sipped her juice. Mariah finally strode in and glanced around but didn’t notice Rachel before getting into the coffee line. Of course, she was likely looking for a blonde. Rachel’s uneasiness doubled.

When Mariah eventually came around the corner, still searching, Rachel shyly waved to get her attention. She could hear and see Mariah’s gasp of shock when recognition dawned on her, even though Mariah was still halfway across the room.

“Wow!” Mariah rushed over to her. “Rachel, you look amazing.”

Rachel tried to convince herself Mariah meant it and smiled nervously. “I don’t know about amazing, but thanks.”

“Still getting used to it?” Mariah nodded to Rachel’s hair as she took the adjacent chair and set her coffee on the table in the corner between them.

Rachel nodded, her eyes wide with emphasis. “I’m not sure what I was thinking.”

Mariah shook her head enthusiastically. “It looks really good. Really different but good. Has Cale seen it yet?”

Rachel shook her head quickly, probably too quickly. She was all too aware of the fact that Cale hadn’t seen her new do. All too worried about what he would think. She’d spent too much time turning it over in her mind, recognizing that, though she hadn’t intended it as