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But that’s not how it happened, and we don’t get a redo. I know that.
Please apologize to Beau and Savannah for me, for ruining their wedding reception.
Love always,
Madison
P.S. I know you didn’t want me to, but I kept track of the money you spent on Joy and me. Here’s about half of what I owe you. I’ll send the other half as soon as I can.
He poured another drink, downed it, and then read the letter again, hoping the start of a buzz would help him read between the lines. But no, it remained a fucking masterpiece of inscrutability. What did she want, other than to reject his gifts and turn them into loans, and…oh, right…for them to have met under different circumstances? Maybe this had started as a misguided attempt to rescue her, but things had changed. Yes, he was one persuasive son-of-a-bitch, but last time he checked, he had zero powers over the time-space continuum.
Helpless frustration had him considering heading straight through to the garage and pounding his bruised fists against the heavy bag until physical pain got too big and distracting to allow his mind to fixate on anything else. The embossed return address on the envelope under Madison’s letter stopped him from following the impulse. It came from the dean of admissions at his first choice school. He picked it up and weighed the envelope in his palm. One page.
Perfect, fucked-up end to a perfect, fucked-up day. He thought he had until March first to complete his application, but since it fell on a Sunday, apparently he should have advanced the deadline to Friday rather than assuming a Monday deadline? Either that, or they’d found some other grounds to reject him. They certainly hadn’t wasted any time kicking out a letter.
Might as well let the shit rain down. He tore the envelope open and unfolded the sheet of stationary inside. He scanned the opening.
Dear Mr. Knox, Thank you for your interest…blah, blah, blah…. Wait. He backed up to the beginning, and read again.
…Based on your academic performance, test scores, recommendation letters and essays, we are plea
sed to offer you admittance to our program, commencing this fall.
Holy shit. Had Granger sent the rec letter after all? He skipped the rest of the template and moved down to a handwritten note beneath the signature block.
Dear Mr. Knox,
Congratulations on your admittance. We hope you choose to accept. I wanted to personally commend you on your letters of recommendation. We strive to select candidates who display an aptitude for academic and professional excellence, and the letter from Professor Bryant and the phone call we received from Miss Granger convinced us you possess these traits. We also, however, seek candidates with the capacity to take the concept of care to a higher level. To go above and beyond when the situation requires. This potential is more difficult to assess. The letter from Miss Foley demonstrated you embrace these qualities. Her heartfelt account of your actions on her behalf, and the sincerity of her words, compelled us to offer you early admission…
He dropped the letter on the counter and scrubbed his hands over his gritty eyes. Ashley had called the Dean of Admissions. No way could he have seen that coming, but more importantly…Madison had written him a letter. She’d secured his admission to med school, helped him over a crucial hurdle on the path to his goal. That had to mean something, right?
Beau’s words from the other day floated through his mind. She wants to feel needed, not needy. She wants to respect herself and feel like she brings something important to the table. Find a way to get her there without loading up her car.
Okay, he’d blown that goal. She’d loaded up her car. Her decision had something to do with feeling needy instead of needed. He understood that part and felt reasonably confident he could fix it. It also had something to do with the fact that they hadn’t met on a random afternoon in the coffee shop. He understood that part less, but hell, if it meant convincing her to stay, he’d fix it, too.
…
Madison used the lull in the flow of customers and the last twenty minutes of her shift to clean and re-stock the food case. Thanks to a good wiping down, the glass gleamed in the sunlight filtering into the shop from the partially lowered blinds. She picked up a long pair of tongs and turned her attention to switching out the lunch fare for the afternoon treats. Arranging the tea wafers, brownies, cookies, and mini-sandwiches usually lifted her mood, but not today.
Dropping Joy off at her brand new nursery school earlier in the day hadn’t helped, either, though Joy had seemed content and the caregivers attentive. She should have been proud of herself for providing a safe and nurturing environment for Joy without inconveniencing a dangerously charming but fundamentally decent man. Unfortunately, staying away from the dangerously charming but fundamentally decent man tore a hole in her heart. Yes, she’d known the emotional fallout would be bad. She’d braced for that, but she hadn’t expected three nights and two days away from Hunter to wear down her resolve and leave her fighting an exhausting, non-stop battle with herself to stick to the promises she’d made to him…and to herself.
The sleek, new cell phone she’d gotten this morning weighted the pocket of her apron. She’d been trying to hold off on calling him until tonight, because bugging the man at work hardly qualified as giving him space, but…
“Hey, sweetie.” Rachel waited until Madison turned. “I’m going to make sure the restrooms are clean and stocked before we clock out. Be right back.”
She mustered up a smile. “Thanks.”
Rachel had been a saint, helping her move her things into the apartment late Saturday night, listening with a kind ear as she’d spilled out the whole travesty of her ex and the confrontation at the wedding reception. Rachel had also spent the last two days prodding her to call Hunter, because, in her words, Screw space, honey. You’re miserable.
The bell jingled as customers walked into the shop. “Be with you in just a second,” she said as she closed the cover on a box of chocolate caramel bars. She wiped the tongs and rested them on the top of the box. Fixing a smile on her face, she moved to the register and looked up at…
Hunter. A heart rush nearly left her faint. Or maybe it was the sight of him in his uniform. Either way, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “My partner’s craving a…what the hell is it again?”
Her attention shifted to the dark-haired, uniformed woman beside Hunter, who rolled her eyes. “A non-fat, decaf, mocha-latte. What is so difficult about this, Knox?”
