He looked at the small trailer behind her. “Movers coming tomorrow?”
“Nope. This is it.” She swallowed becausethis was it.This was the moment every recent divorcée dreaded. Thewhere’s your other halfquestion.
Surprisingly, he didn’t say a word about Frank’s absence, but his gaze did shift to the empty passenger seat, and she thought she’d be sick.
Her ex. Her lying, selfish, bonehead of an ex, who’d cost her family nearly everything. The writing was still wet on the dotted line of the divorce papers, but they’d separated a year ago, when things took a turn for the worse.
She knew all too well how confusing it could be for kids when their parents reenactedThe War of the Roseson a regular basis. By the time Teagan’s parents divorced, things had become so bitter, she’d promised herself if she ever had kids, she would never put them through that, so she’d stayed in her marriage as long as she could.
She’d tried so hard to make it work. Frank wasn’t a bad man; in fact he was an incredibly sweet man and a good father. But he lived with his head in the clouds and his money on a poker table.
For a long time, she’d obsessed over what she could have changed. Done differently.
“You okay, Bianchi?” His voice was quiet, and she knew he’d figured it out. He only used her nickname when he was razzing her or concerned for her. This time it was a little of both.
She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, just tired from the drive.” Her pants were going to burst into flames for that lie. But the last thing she wanted to do was talk about her last ex with her first ex.
He studied her and then thankfully let it go without any further questions. “If you need help unloading the trailer, I’m right next door.” She was tempted to take him up on the offer. She was exhausted, her back was killing her from the long drive, and she still had to empty the boxes in the U-Haul trailer, which was due back tomorrow before ten. But his voice held a cool distant tone.
Maybe the past wasn’t buried in the past. Not that she blamed him.
“I’ve got it,” she said, even though she totally didn’t have it.
“If you change your mind.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.
“Noted.”
His face went carefully blank, and he stepped back from the car. “I forgot. You’re good at notes.”
Well played butouch.
“If you change your mind, let me know. Oh, and for the record, lemonade is overrated, unless it has something stronger in it.”
Chapter 2
Sisters never quite forgive each other for
what happened when they were five.
—Pam Brown
Harley Ashford was a lioness.
A big, fat, cowardly lioness who also lacked a brain and a heart. Otherwise, she’d be back in Los Angeles living her dream life, at her dream job, with her dream boyfriend. Instead, she was sitting on the back patio in a pair of pajamas and Nonna Rose’s quilted robe, eating chocolate-chocolate-chunk ice cream straight from the carton.
In fairness, chocolate-chocolate-chunk ice cream was a dinner Nonna Rose would have approved of. There was a lot about Harley her nonna had approved of—even the parts of Harley that usually turned people off.
“Love you, Nonna.” Harley toasted her grandma in heaven with an ice cream scooper.
As she sat on the edge of the two-story patio, her legs dangling over, she watched the gold and blue landscape, white capped waves joining sand and sky together. Her life was forever buoyed up by this town. Her nonna’s house grounded her; it was the place where security and love allowed her to dream of all the things she could become and the woman she could aspire to be.
She was scooping up more ice cream when her cell rang, sending her heart plummeting to her stomach.
Shit.It was Bryan. Sweet, sexy, understanding Bryan, who’d told her he was falling for her. The exact reason she capped things at six months. Always. Any longer and she felt agitated, cooped up. With Bryan none of those feelings arose, until he wanted to take it to the next level.
Harley didn’t do next levels. She suffered from an acute case of Dating Vertigo. Even whispers of taking things to the next level made her woozy. Which was why her feet were planted solidly on the ground floor. Things were simpler down there. No room for misunderstandings or unrequited feelings, and absolutely, positively no room for heartache.
Until there was.
