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Tears fill my eyes. My chest feels full to the point of bursting. “Thank you.”
“Don’t feel obliged to do the same,” Declan says. “Only when you’re ready.”
I want to do the same. I trust Declan, and I want to take that step toward making our marriage real. Fear, like a shadow, creeps into my heart. “What if’s” form in my brain. I shake them loose and concentrate on the kindness in Declan’s eyes.
With trembling fingers, I reach for my handbag on the floor and fish out my spare key. “Sorry, it’s not on a pink keychain,” I tell Declan as I hand it to him.
“Are you sure about this?” he says. “It’s a big step.”
I nod. “I’m sure.”
Understanding flows between us as we stare into each other’s eyes, knowing that something in our relationship has shifted.
***
We check into the Summit Resort at eleven in the morning, and I immediately fall in love with the rustic design. It’s a new development on the outskirts of town.
“I wonder if they do weddings here,” I say to Declan as we make our way to our room.
The porter, who is carrying our bags, overhears and speaks over his shoulder. “We do, ma’am,” he says. “We do outdoor weddings in our expansive gardens.”
I squeal like a child. “Awesome. I can’t wait to see them.”
“Your room has French doors that open up to the garden,” he says.
“Perfect,” I say.
“Welcome to The Summit Resort, Mr. and Mrs. Carter,” the porter says, as he places our bags on the rug next to the closet.
“Thanks.” I’m utterly charmed by the rustic room with a huge bed held up by solid logs designed to look like tree trunks.
“This is charming,” Declan says and moves across the room to open the French doors leading out to the garden. He slides them open, and a gust of air enters the room, flooding it with the sweet scent of flowers.
“You have to see this,” Declan says, but I’m already moving toward him.
“Oh wow.” I’m awestruck by the expanse of greenery bordered by lush gardens filled with beautiful flowers. Benches have been placed around the garden in strategic spots, and I immediately head for one, a few steps from our room. Declan comes and sits down next to me.
“Let’s stay here forever,” I say as a sigh of satisfaction escapes my mouth.
Declan chuckles. “You’d miss Lilly’s Love and beg to be taken back in less than a day.”
He’s right. As beautiful as the resort’s gardens are, I like cramming my day with stuff to do. That’s just how I’m built.
“Now that we’re here, shouldn’t you call your father?” Declan says.
I groan. “Do I have to?” I sound like a petulant child, but I’m dreading going to meet my dad and his new family. I know his wife in passing. In a town of four thousand people, it’s kind of hard not to have seen someone at least twice.
Declan stands up, takes my hand, and pulls me up.
Back in our room, I hunt for my cell phone in my bag, and when I find it, I call my dad. I’m nervous as hell. My father has always made me feel nervous, probably because we’ve never had anything to say to each other.
I hold my breath and hope that he doesn’t answer. No such luck. He answers on the second ring.
“Hi, Dad, it’s Marian,” I say.
“Oh, hello. How are you?” he says, clearly taken aback.
I glance at Declan, and he smiles at me in encouragement. “I’m good, thanks. Dad, I was thinking of having dinner with you. Meet Terri and—” I stop abruptly as I search for my stepsister’s name and draw up a blank.
“Her name is Michelle,” he says mildly.
“Yes, of course,” I say as if I’d known all along and had just been taking my time to say it.
“I’d like to see you. I’ll text you the address,” he says. He doesn’t sound as sure of himself as I remember.
“Okay, Dad.”
The phone goes quiet, and I think that he’s disconnected the call. Then he clears his throat. “Uh, Marian, thank you.”
I grip my phone as sudden tears come to my eyes. When I disconnect, Declan gathers me in his arms and holds me tight. The tears drop from my eyes and run down my cheeks.
“I’m a mess,” I tell Declan later when I’m back in control of my emotions.
“It’s fine.”
“We’re supposed to be headed to my mom’s for lunch and the meeting,” I say and gather my paperwork from my bag.
“Are you going to make her sign a contract?” Declan says.
I grin. “Yes, of course. I have to file it.”
“I love how professional you are,” Declan says.
It would have been nice to spend the afternoon in our room, but I’m here for work and work must happen.
Declan inputs my mom’s address in the navigation bar and follows the directions. We drive down Main Street, and I’m surprised to see the town has grown bigger. There are new stores that were not there when I lived in Arlen. I recognize the yarn store as well as the diner run for decades by the Samson family.
