There Goes My Heart (The Sullivans #20) - Bella Andre Page 0,44

felt shaken up inside. Talking to Margie about the wedding had reminded Zara all too keenly that she would never be able to talk about weddings with her own mom. Nor would they be able to talk about all the things that came before a wedding, like meeting the guy of her dreams and falling in love.

Or being confused about whether or not she’d already met the guy of her dreams in the guise of the last person she’d ever thought to dream about…

On the nights when she most missed her mom, Zara always did the same thing—she pulled the hope chest from her closet and brought it into the living room.

Her mother had given her the wooden box when she was eight years old. The chest held precious memories and symbolized her wishes for Zara’s life to be full of hope and dreams and love. As soon as Zara was born, her mother had begun to fill the chest with photo scrapbooks, favorite recipes, a baby quilt she’d used during the first few years of her life, a charm bracelet that had been passed down from her grandmother, and even silly things like Zara’s favorite superhero Halloween outfit she’d worn three years in a row.

Though the thin wood chest hadn’t weathered well over the years, and the latch and hinges were on the verge of breaking, everything inside was in good shape. Sitting cross-legged on the couch, Zara opened the chest and carefully lifted out each of the items. Her first pair of baby shoes. Her first lost tooth at six. Her first-place swim ribbon from third grade. The family recipe book. The funny jokes on the notes her mom used to leave in Zara’s lunchbox.

Her hand trembled as she lifted a picture her dad had taken of Zara and her mom during the Family Fun Day that the Kennebunkport town council put on each summer. They had their arms around each other, and they were laughing. So happy. So carefree.

And without a clue about the horrible thing that would happen just seven days later.

A knock at the door startled Zara so much that the picture fluttered from her hand. She quickly picked it up and put it back in the chest, then got up to see who was visiting her so late on a Sunday night. Most likely it was Ellen from down the street. Zara’s neighbor was always doing late-night baking and running out of sugar or flour or chocolate chips. Zara had gotten in the habit of buying extra of those ingredients just in case.

But it wasn’t Ellen at the door.

“Rory?” Zara was hit with the strangest feeling as she saw him standing on her front porch—she’d never been so glad to see anyone in her life. It was almost like her grief over missing her mother had triggered a telepathic message to Rory, letting him know how much she needed to be with a friend tonight. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you.” His simple answer landed right in the center of her heart. “And also…” He lifted the lid on a pink pastry box. “Chocolate cake.”

She read the label. “Double dark chocolate fudge.”

“I would have asked for triple, but the woman behind the counter was already giving me the stink eye for keeping the store open.”

“Or she could have been giving you the stink eye because it’s fun to see a big, brawny, know-it-all guy squirm.”

“It’s certainly possible,” he agreed. And then, “Can I come in? Or should I just hand you the cake and head home?”

She feigned having to think about it. “That’s a tough one…” Then she took the cake from him and stepped aside. “Of course you can come in, if only to make sure I don’t eat the entire thing by myself.”

“It’s good to feel needed,” he teased.

As she headed for the kitchen to cut the cake and put it on plates, she realized everything from her hope chest was still strewn on the couch and coffee table. Knowing he must be trying to figure out why she was looking at old pictures and scrapbooks and a kid-sized superhero outfit, she put the cake box down, then went to explain as she began to put things away.

“That’s my hope chest. My mom gave it to me when I was eight.” She tried to play it like it was no big deal, but the catch in her voice gave her away, as did the way her hands were shaking so hard