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And he didn’t stop her. What could he say? That he had blamed her all these years, had hired her to rub his success in her face because he’d held on to a misplaced grudge instead of seeking her out and finding out what the hell had happened?
He wandered around the hydrangea fields, trying to figure out what he would do, what he should do. By the time he reached the farmhouse, over thirty minutes had passed. He walked into the gift shop, frowning when he didn’t see Alexandra.
“Are you Grant Santos?”
Grant turned to see a white-haired woman with a wrinkled face and bright blue eyes smiling at him from behind the counter.
“I am.”
“Your friend had to go back to the Hamptons house. Something about an emergency with the flowers for tomorrow’s lunch? She took a taxi back and said she would see you tomorrow.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ALEXANDRAWALKEDALONGthe beach, her toes digging into the wet sand. The sun had set long ago, but she’d waited until darkness had set in and she’d heard most of the house guests retire to their rooms to slip down the stairs and head toward the beach.
She’d been hiding in her room since she’d gotten back. She’d barely stomached the outrageous taxi bill. But it had been worth the money. At first, she’d committed to waiting for Grant to emerge from the hydrangea fields, to handling whatever mood he was in and either a very awkward silence on the ride home or a full-blown fight.
But as the minutes had ticked by with no sign of him, she hadn’t been able to handle it. She’d told him everything, including that they had conceived and lost a child. And all he’d done was stare at her before asking her to stop.
Her throat tightened. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but stone-cold silence had not been on her list of possible reactions.
She tilted her head back and looked up at the stars sparkling overhead. How many times had she and Grant lay on the hood of her convertible and stared up at this same sky? How many times had he spread a blanket on the sand, cradling her in his arms as he made love to her?
Part of her still felt guilty that she had allowed her father so much reign over her life. But part of her felt frustrated, too, perhaps even angry. As she’d confessed what had happened, saying it out loud had changed things for her. Yes, she’d been weak. Yes, she should have talked to Grant. But she’d done what she’d done because she had been trying to protect Grant and his mother. Could he not see that she had broken up with him because she loved him? Because loving him and not having him in her life was infinitely preferable to the dangers he would have faced if he had been sent back because she’d risked it all by dragging him to a stupid party?
She stopped at the pier jutting out of the water that marked the end of Grant’s beachside property. Awareness pricked her skin. Turning, she saw a dark shape moving toward her on the beach. She knew, even in the dim light of the moon, who moved in her direction. Could tell by the way he walked, the set of his shoulders, the surety of his gait.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“I’m not anymore.”
As he drew closer, she saw that he was wearing the same linen shirt and slacks he’d worn to the farm. Her heart ached to reach out and touch him. But she held herself in check. He’d told her to stop, unable to bear the confession he’d asked for. Who knew what he wanted now?
“You left.”
“It seemed like the best option.”
“No.” His sigh was barely audible over the gentle roaring of the waves as they crept up the beach. “No, the best option would have been me responding to you and not acting like a self-absorbed idiot.”
She stared at him, unsure of how to respond. Part of her wanted to grasp the ray of hope he offered her. But the other part of her couldn’t handle another disappointment. Not after the emotional wringing out her heart had been through as she’d dredged up the past.
He held something up. A blanket, she realized.
“It’s been ages since we sat on a beach.”
She nodded, her throat tight this time for an entirely different reason. Every time they’d spread out a blanket on the beach in the past, it had been to lose themselves in each other’s embrace.
“Would you join me?”
Her mind told her to stay strong, to not give in. Her heart was having none of it. She nodded again and watched as he spread the blanket out over the sand. He sat and reached up, holding out a hand to her. She stared at it for a long moment before slowly accepting it. His fingers closed over hers and guided her down to the blanket.
“I didn’t know how to respond back at the farm. I was angry at myself. All these years I knew there was something wrong about what had happened in the library. Not just what you said, but your father being there, too. I knew something was off and I let my stupid pride tell me that you had just played me.”
Her heart cracked as her own guilt reared its head. Of course he’d been convinced.
“You protested at first,” she pointed out gently. “You told me you didn’t believe me.”
“But then I did. I gave in and did what I accused you of doing.” He reached out, one hand closing over hers and enfolding her fingers in his. “I ran away. Being confronted with the reality of what happened, and then finding out that we...”
