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He'd just called things off with Abigail.
God, he was a freaking idiot.
He jogged down the hall. He had to catch her and tell her he had been wrong. So what if they got burned? Wasn't the journey worth it? That's what all the songs said, right? So he had to make her come back. He had to make her see he'd been insecure and stupid and...
As he opened the front door, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His gaze reflected desperation.
Right.
Thiswas what he'd been worried about-he'd gone off the rails. He was in Magnolia Bend to find his father... not mess around with love.
He watched Abigail disappear along the path to Laurel Woods, the tall lanky grasses closing behind her as if she'd never been there. Never been part of his life.
He could see his breath in the cold night and very slowly he stepped inside and closed the door.
It was for the best. Had to be.
But his heart didn't believe him.
18
ABIGAIL BARELY MADE it off Leif's porch before the tears started falling.
Part of her was shocked at what had just happened, the other part hurt. How could he think so little of her? To think she was embarrassed of him? To dismiss what they had like it was nothing.
Sure, she knew they would end things someday.
There was no other course of action.
But, God, it felt as if her heart had been ripped from her chest.
She pressed a hand against her mouth and stopped, leaning against a rough tree, trying not to fall apart. So much for being a modem woman who slept around and didn't give a rip about the guy. Massive fail.
Her breath puffed into the night as she struggled to swallow the grief threatening to flood her.
You don't love him, goose. He's just a guy. He's just a stupid man. You were using him for sex. That’s it. He wasn't going to stay. This isn't love. Get a grip.
She said all the right things to herself, but her heart was having none of it. Her heart seemed to firmly believe she'd fallen totally and emphatically-right down to the exclamation marks-in love with Leif Lively, artist, teacher and tofu-weenie roaster.
Damn her heart.
Abigail wiped the dampness from her cheeks, determined to deal with it. She didn't have the luxury of going to bed with a box of tissues, a pint of ice cream, and her DVD copy ofPretty Woman.She had stuff to do. A daughter to raise, an ex-husband to chase off her porch, and her brother's wedding to attend. Not to mention, she still had to find a gift and get her nails done.
Exactly. Abigail had plenty to do. She probably wouldn't miss Leif at all.
A sob escaped, and she pressed her hand tight against her stomach, battling against emotion. She could do this. She had to do this.
So she pulled away from the tree and took one step. Then another. And another. Away from Leif. As she reached the end of the path, where the view opened up to reveal the grand house, she inhaled deeply, remembering who she was. The moonlight fell softly on the massive columns of Laurel Woods and on the naked branches of the trees, a sort of mysticism enveloping the grounds. The house had survived the Civil War, afire, and neglect. It stood defiant against all that tried to bring it down. A grand old dame shaking a proverbial fist at fate.
So, too, would Abigail survive.
She'd heal from her failed attempt at conducting an affair... from falling in love, or whatever it was, with Leif.
They were just friends now.
Could she even handle seeing him in that capacity? She'd have to. But not tomorrow. Or the next day. Or even the day after that. By Monday, she'd be fine.
Abigail clung to the belief that she'd be fine by the following week.
