“I see. So it’s okay for me to move or fly back and forth. But not you.”
“I didn’t say that.”
The tang of mango lingered on Harper’s tongue as she considered his words. He was holding his ground. Harper knew that if she were more like her mother, she would finish her drink, smile, thank him politely for dinner, and walk out of the restaurant and out of his life. Nothing or no one stood in Georgiana James’s way.
But she wasn’t like her mother. Nor was she like her father, who couldn’t commit. She didn’t have any role models to follow in this decision. It was hers alone to make.
The waitress came to take their orders. Harper picked up her menu and scanned it. Her appetite was gone. She ordered a roll of sushi to be polite and another martini. Taylor ordered the nigiri dinner and another beer.
The waitress took the menus and left them in tense silence.
Taylor’s brows knit and he searched Harper’s face. Then he reached out to take her hand in his. “I don’t want to argue. Let’s table this discussion until you get a job. One that you love and are excited about. It’s not fair for me to put any pressure on you.”
She felt a rush of relief. “I have so much I’m figuring out now. I’ve got to be realistic and accept things the way they are rather than the way I wish they’d be.”
“I know.”
She took a deep breath, trying to hold herself together and not cry. “I don’t know if I can stay here.”
He nodded soberly. “I know.”
Chapter Fourteen
The next day Taylor began painting the cottage, and Harper dove into her job search in earnest. She wasn’t sorry to have a reason not to be around Taylor at the moment. They’d finished their dinner last night in mostly strained, sad silence, each aware of the ticking clock that hung over them. They ended the night with a tender kiss on Sea Breeze’s front porch, but Harper knew they both needed some space to figure things out.
Meanwhile, Dora was in stride with her job at the dress shop, and Nate had settled into his new school. Mamaw had at last begun to sort through her belongings, starting with her clothing. Filled black plastic bags began piling up in her room. Only Carson remained in a funk behind her closed door. Still, Sea Breeze appeared relatively calm.
Until Devlin called with the news that he’d scheduled a showing of the house.
There followed a flurry of cleaning and polishing. Harper raked and weeded the gardens. Taylor’s father came to help with the painting. Everyone chipped in, working hard, each holding at bay the heartbreak that this showing implied. By Labor Day, Sea Breeze had never looked better. On the afternoon of the showing, they cleared out of the house, each to a separate destination.
It was, Harper thought, a sobering hint of the exodus to come.
Carson was on her way to the coffee shop. All she wanted from life right now was a nice cup of iced chai latte in an air-conditioned room. She drove her car down the business section of Middle Street. She loved these few blocks of shabby-chic restaurants and shops crowded together, each with its own quirky look. There was nothing mainstream about it, not a chain store in sight.
Only 10:00 a.m., and the lunch crowd hadn’t yet descended. This used to be a sleepy town of locals. Now it was getting so crowded with guests and tourists in the summer that some of the charm had fallen off into the vortex of tourist trap.
Carson never entered Cafe Medley without thinking of Blake and their first coffee here. Here, he’d forgiven her for lying to him about Delphine. She had serious thinking to do about that man. She placed her order and waited, crossing her arms and brooding.
She had known from the start that Blake Legare would be trouble. He wasn’t even her type. Not LA cool or movie-star sexy or model gorgeous. He wasn’t in the film business at all. Or wealthy. She’d fallen in love with a federal employee who worked long hours for low pay because he loved what he did. A simple man with simple tastes and strong convictions. He loved the lowcountry, his family, his dog, dolphins—and her.
Yes, he loved her. And that frightened her.
“Carson?”
She startled at hearing Blake’s voice just while she was thinking of him. She jerked her head around to see him standing in front of her, a large, steaming mug in his hand. Blake wore his usual baggy khaki shorts and a faded brown polo shirt, the collar not fully turned out. She half smiled, knowing he didn’t notice such things.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
The server handed her the cup of chai. She started walking toward a table, Blake following her. She was vaguely annoyed. She’d wanted to be alone, to think. Lately, it seemed every time she turned around, he was there.
She took a seat at the tiny table. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I am. I’m responding to a dolphin stranding. We’re shorthanded and I took the call. Glad I did.” His eyes sparked as he pulled out a chair.
They sat across from each other at the small bistro table. Blake leaned forward, his gaze searching her face. “How are you?”
Carson looked at her mug, despondent. “I’m fine.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.
“Blake, nothing’s wrong. Stop asking me that.”
“I’m just worried about you.”
“Stop hovering!”
He sat back against his chair with a hurt expression. “I’m not hovering. I just walked in for a cup of coffee and here you are.”
“Yes, you are hovering. You’ve been stopping by the house all hours of the day and night, always checking on me, always asking me how I am.”
He looked stricken. “You just lost the baby. Our baby. I care!” he added with heat. “Isn’t that what a boyfriend is supposed to do?”
She didn’t reply.
After a long, pained pause Blake’s face fell. “Oh. I see. We’re there again. You don’t want a boyfriend.”
She stared at her hands, clenched tight around the frosted glass.
Blake gave a short groan. He leaned far back, tilting the chair on its hind legs, and, turning his head, stared out the window, his face set.
Carson’s heart ached for him. The part that loved him.
Blake put his hands on the table and looked at her. His tone was cool. “I don’t want to talk about this now.”
She looked at her mug. “I don’t, either. But we need to.” She glanced up quickly and saw his face. His head was bent and he was staring intently at his cup. “Blake, I don’t want to be this woman who always hurts you.” She tried desperately to find words to make him believe the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him again. “That’s not who I am. But that’s what keeps happening, over and over.”