Page 44 of Starting Over

I was only ten then, but believed with everything in me that we would marry one day. When I turned sixteen, I thought he would come back for me, despite us barely being friends.

He never did.

I knew it was the fanciful dream of a silly teenager, but I believed I loved him.

For two years, I held out hope that he would come home.

He never did.

Instead, my father had decided Duane and I would be a good match. Duane and I were friends, so it wasn’t the end of the world. I always wondered if he knew how I felt about Declan, though.

Don’t get me wrong, I grew to love my husband. But there was always a part of me that wondered, what if?

Now, here he was.

Living in the same town I was in.

Some might think this was our chance.

Some might think fate had finally brought us back together.

I thought fate was a cruel bitch.

Declan was a cop. Not just a cop but the sheriff. The head cop.

He didn’t answer to anyone.

That meant there was no one to hold him accountable.

Which meant he couldn’t be trusted.

With that final thought, I put him out of my mind. Well, I shoved him to the back at least. I had work to do.

I had gotten the floor in my bedroom refinished. The wood gleamed as I stood there, admiring my handiwork.

Today, I needed to put my bedroom furniture together, and then I could move out of the clubhouse and into my new home.

I looked around at the boxes, wondering where to start when my phone rang. Seeing my daughter’s name on the screen had me smiling.

“Hello, Daughter.”

“Hello, Mother.”

I laughed at our greeting. This had become standard when we talked on the phone now. Anyone listening might think we were estranged. The truth was, I loved her more than anything in this world. God, I missed my kid.

“How are things in Nebraska?” she asked.

I told her the day after Thanksgiving where I had settled. I figured she deserved to know her mother was safe, especially with winter setting in. She knew I wasn’t heading south, I hated the heat. I was a winter girl.

“Things are good. My bedroom is finished, and I’m ready to put my furniture together so I can start sleeping here tonight.”

“Send me pictures when you get it done. I can’t wait to see it. Think you will do it the same as your room here?” she asked.

My home in Boston had always been decorated in a simple, sedate way. Always showroom ready for a captain or captain’s wife to stop by. Or on the occasion Sal himself would stop by.

After Duane passed, I didn’t bother redecorating. I knew I wasn’t staying.

“Definitely not. I am so ready for all the pinks, purples, and country gingham I can find.” I laughed.

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