the library, Linc. Your mother gave it to them. Mrs. Miller said you could have it back if you wanted.”
I gazed at the paintings. Pieces of my mother I didn’t even know existed. Small treasures. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “These would have gone when the house did,” I murmured. “I never would have known.” Another memory hit me. “I remember a pile of canvases. They were piled by the door and then gone the next day. He must have gotten rid of them. But he must have forgotten about these.”
“We could try to find them. Advertise. Check out secondhand shops in the local area. Abby is searching the entire house in case we find any more, but she wanted me to come to show you these right away.”
I stared at the canvases. “No. I would like to think someone else is enjoying her work.” I turned to Sunny, pulling her close. “What a gift you’ve given me. Even if we don’t find any others, these are such amazing things to be able to have.” I dropped a kiss to her head. “Thank you.”
She beamed up at me. “You’re welcome.”
“I love you, Sunny-girl.”
She wrinkled her nose with a smile. “I know.”
24
Linc
The next two weeks proved two things to me.
One—the fact that I thought I couldn’t love Sunny more was wrong. The more I got to know this Sunny—the calm, sweet, vibrant woman she had become—the harder I fell. Gone were the days of hiding and of fear. I could touch her, kiss her anytime I wanted. Show her my affection. Accept hers. I loved her independent streak, the way she handled herself with her business, and all the people that involved. I was proud to stand beside her on the weekends, making coffee, stealing cookies, gorging on biscuits. I wasn’t too proud to clear tables, help take out the trash, or do anything that made her life a little easier.
And I was well rewarded for it.
Which led to my second discovery. Leaving her behind was simply not an option. We had a brief discussion about me returning to Toronto, coming back on weekends. It sounded like a good idea until we decided on our future. I kissed her in the early morning dawn and headed into Toronto, comforted by the fact that I would see her in a few days.
But by three a.m. on the third night of not being able to sleep, I knew I was fucked. Without Sunny beside me, I couldn’t rest. And even with Abby in the office, I couldn’t concentrate, and neither could Abby. I didn’t even wait, driving back in the middle of the night. I left Abby a message, and by the morning, we were both back in Mission Cove, and neither of us planned on leaving for any great length of time.
The apartment over Sunny’s was now Abby’s. I’d planned to rent a hotel room for the sake of appearance, but Sunny had laughed and called me old-fashioned. She was right. No one cared, and I was happier with her. Abby felt safe in Mission Cove. Carl was back in jail and her mother had disappeared, but knowing Abby was among friends who would watch out for her when I wasn’t around gave me a sense of comfort I never thought I would get from the town of Mission Cove. Abby and Michael were growing closer, and we hoped they were able to help each other heal.
Another odd thing happened. As more people discovered who I was, there was no censure, no looks of dislike or distancing. I was surprised at the number of hugs I received, the welcome from people still living here that I used to know. Even odder, not a single person offered condolences on my father’s passing. Many of them spoke of my mother, and I was grateful to hear so many wonderful stories. It felt good to know her memory would live on here while my father’s terrible legacy died off, a mere whisper of the past. When they discovered the house was being taken down, there was a lot of excitement and curiosity about what would replace it. I kept my mouth shut, waiting for the final drawings to take to the town council on both matters. I wasn’t shocked when the mayor dropped in and told me he expected there to be no problem with my proposals. I had sat with him and his wife and laid out my plans, then left, allowing