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‘Which is why we won’t make the same mistakes again.’ Rosa’s father got to his feet, too, taking Sancia’s hand.
‘I’m glad,’ Rosa said, the words thick in her throat. ‘I’m glad you found each other again.’
‘So am I,’ Sancia said, and then Ernest swept her into his arms again, and Rosa turned away.
She couldn’t watch their happiness. Not tonight.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d be happy for them. She’d smile and offer congratulations on her way off the island.
Tonight, she just needed to mourn her own broken heart, and think about all the compromises she hadn’t been willing to make, until it was too late.
And then she’d move on.
Jude didn’t trust her love. She hadn’t left herself any other choices.
* * *
Jude hadn’t exactly planned on heading back to the beach, but that was where he found himself, all the same.
The party was winding down, the fire burning down low. Couples were dotted around the sand in cosy embraces, talking low, and Valentina and Todd were dancing on the shoreline as if there were no one else in the world but them.
Jude looked away. He couldn’t quite bear to watch that kind of happiness tonight.
Settling back onto his piece of driftwood, he pulled his guitar from its case again. Music had always been his friend, his comfort, and he needed it tonight more than ever, since the day he lost Gareth.
Rosa would be leaving as soon as she could, of course. And he’d be left behind again, with his heart in tatters. Meeting Rosa had torn his life apart the first time, but he’d honestly thought he could withstand it this time. How much worse could she do to him, after all?
It turned out, quite a lot.
She loved him. Or she thought she did. Just not enough to give up any iota of her freedom, or give him any hope that she wouldn’t leave him again without a backward glance.
Rosa was right, of course. Nothing did last for ever, and there were no guarantees in this life. Gareth had taught him that.
But he needed more than she could give him. He needed...something. Some sign that she was in this as deeply as he was. That she wanted it to last as much as he did.
Was that too much to ask?
‘I didn’t expect to see you back here tonight.’ Sylvie settled herself onto the sand in front of him, too close to where Rosa had sat for Jude to feel comfortable with it.
‘You know me. Always the last at a party.’
‘Yes,’ Sylvie allowed. ‘But that was usually because I didn’t want to leave until everyone else who mattered had. You never cared for them for yourself.’
‘I’ll have to get used to them again, I suppose,’ Jude said.
‘You’re definitely coming back to New York, then?’ Sylvie sounded surprised. ‘I know Rosa said you were, but I assumed she was just being careful. That she was hoping you’d go with her, but she didn’t want to fall too deep in case you didn’t feel the same. It’s what I would do.’
Jude gave a low laugh. ‘Trust me, Rosa is never careful. With anything.’ Including his heart.
‘That’s why you love her, I suppose,’ Sylvie said, her head tilted to her shoulder as she looked up at him. ‘She’s so free and open. Like you were, when you first came to the city.’
‘Who said I loved her?’
Sylvie’s smile was sad. ‘Oh, Jude. Anyone who has seen you together this week knows that. You’re not subtle, my dear.’
‘I wasn’t trying to be.’ He hadn’t been trying to be anything, here. Not a celebrity, not a star. Not a musician. Not Gareth’s best friend. Not even Jude Alexander, brand.
He hadn’t even tried to be enough for Rosa—he’d known there wasn’t any point.
He’d been just Jude. Himself.
And Rosa had loved him. Not enough to stay, sure, but enough to tell him. For Rosa, that was a lot.
More than he’d have expected, before tonight.
‘It’s better this way.’ Sylvie stretched her long legs out over the sand. ‘I know you don’t love me. I’m not sure if I love you either, to be honest. But I think love might be overrated. You don’t need love—especially not if it makes you look as miserable as you do tonight.’
‘What do I need, then?’ Jude asked, honestly curious. Maybe there was another path. One that hurt less. That would be good.
‘You need someone to look pretty next to you at awards ceremonies. Someone who doesn’t object to you being away on tour for half the year, or mind when you lock yourself away to write for days on end. Someone to keep the groupies and whackos at bay, at least a little bit. Someone who gets as much from the association as you do. Someone who fits your level of stardom.’
‘Someone like you?’ he guessed.
‘Why not?’ Sylvie shrugged those elegant shoulders. ‘We were good together, Jude, admit it. It might not be love, but it was enough. Satisfactory satisfaction, if you like.’
She was right, Jude realised. Sylvie had been the picture-perfect partner for him, supporting his brand, making sure he was seen at the right places, giving him—and the band—the right level of glamour. Gareth would have been jealous as all hell.
No, Gareth would have snagged Sylvie himself, and shown her off all over the world. Gareth would have lived the life Jude had now with style and flourish and excitement. He’d have loved it.
But the thought of going back to it made Jude feel as if the sea were closing in over his head and taking him down.
And Rosa was the only one that could save him, pull him out of the water he’d been treading for too long.
‘I can’t do it, Sylvie.’ He shook his head, placing his guitar back in its case, as clarity flowed over him like the tide. ‘I can’t live like that again.’
Rosa was right. Well, no, she was still more wrong than right about a lot of things. But she was right about him.
He had to let Gareth’s memories, the broken promises, and all the expectations go.
He needed to be free every bit as much as she did.
And the only time he ever felt free to be himself was when he was with Rosa.
Which only left him with one option.
She couldn’t promise him anything, but then nobody could. Not really. He knew, better than anyone, that some promises just weren’t possible to keep.
Maybe they didn’t need any promises. Maybe all they needed was love.
And the willingness to risk everything for it. Because some people were worth the risk. One person, anyway.
Gareth would have. Gareth always believed a risk was worth it, if the prize was big enough. For Gareth, the prize was always fame.
For Jude, it was Rosa.
And suddenly, Jude knew he would risk it, too.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ROSA’S TURRET BEDROOM had always been an escape, before. A place of refuge from her family, or the guests on the island, or whatever. But now it felt like a cell, one she couldn’t wait to escape.
She folded the yellow dress she’d worn for the wedding and placed it in her case, followed by the skirt she’d stripped off on the beach the night she went swimming with Jude. Tears dripped onto the fabric, and she shoved it in fast. She couldn’t think about Jude. Possibly ever again, but definitely not until she’d put some considerable air miles between them.
She needed to move on. She didn’t have any other choice now.
Maybe her parents were right and love could overcome, but not for her and Jude. She’d already burned that bridge. He was probably halfway off the island by now, and she wouldn’t chase him. She smiled, sadly, remembering the reasons he’d given for not chasing her three years ago. Suddenly, she understood, in a way she couldn’t have before. Not until she’d lived the same moment.
But things were different now. She understood herself better, and her relat
ionship with her family. She was a different person. Maybe, in time, her dreams would shift, too. Maybe she’d even meet someone else, one day. In the distant, distant future. But even as she thought it, she couldn’t believe it. Who could live up to Jude Alexander?
So, it was just her. Just like before. That was okay. She’d go to Russia. The story there sounded interesting, important. She’d get her camera out and seek truths through its lens. She’d live the life she’d always promised herself she’d have.
And she might not be happy, but she could be content. She could be herself. And that wasn’t nothing.
But then the door to her room flew open and she spun to see Jude standing there, too big in the narrow doorway, his bright blue eyes wild and his black hair crazy.
Swallowing down the last of her tears, Rosa fought to keep her chin level and her voice even. It seemed absurd that, after everything they’d shared over the last few weeks, this was the first time he’d ever even been in her room. ‘You found the secret door at last, then?’
‘Your mother showed me.’ His voice was rough, as if he was as close to tears as she was.
Damn Sancia. Wasn’t her mama supposed to be on her side?
‘What do you want, Jude?’ Hadn’t they said enough terrible, hurtful things to each other already? Rosa wasn’t sure she could stand to hear any more.
But Jude looked her straight in the eye and said, ‘You.’
‘I think you made it very clear that you don’t,’ Rosa said, looking away. ‘If you’ve come here to rub it in some more—’
‘I haven’t.’ Jude stepped closer, taking the dress she was holding from her hands. ‘Rosa, just listen? Please?’
It was the please that undid her. She never could deny him when he asked her in that voice. Why else had she had to disappear without word, last time? If he’d asked her to stay...she still wasn’t sure she could have said no.
‘Okay.’
She couldn’t imagine what he’d have to say that could possibly make anything between them any better, though. He’d made it very clear that it was up to her to change the conversation—to change her mind, her direction.
Sancia had called him a coward. But it wasn’t him, was it? She was the one who needed to be brave.
