Page 27 of The All-Inclusive

CHAPTER 6

SARA

Iwalk to the private dining room at Halcyon Bistro wearing the perfume Trent loves, four-inch fuck-me heels, and a casual air that’s completely fictitious.

On the inside, I’m shaking like a leaf.

But I straighten my shoulders as he watches me walk through the door. He’s already waiting at the table and his eyes scan my body like he’s hungry for it. Slowing my stride, I give him a chance to admire what he lost. My legs look good in this sheath dress the hue of warm honey, which I bought to bring out the color in my eyes.

Logan’s words ring in my ears as I make my way over to Trent.

“You’ve got this beautiful, warm ring of honey right around your pupils, and it flows into ribbons of amber and coffee. Really striking.”

Dammit. I shouldn’t be thinking of Logan.

But I guess it’s only fair that I’m thinking of him when I’m with Trent, since Trent filled my head while Logan filled me with his fingers and tongue and?—

“Hello, Sara.” Trent stands and smooths down the front of his shirt. His throat bobs as he swallows. “You look incredible.”

“Thank you.” I do, don’t I? Like a sexy grownup instead of a naïve little virgin.

Trent pulls my chair out and waits to sit down until I’m seated first. At least he’s a gentleman about some things.

“Tell him what you want.”

Camille’s words ring in my ears, which feels better than hearing Logan’s voice right now. Crossing my legs, I look into Trent’s golden eyes.

“Here’s what I want from you, Trent.” There’s hardly a tremble in my voice, so maybe I’m pulling this off. “I want to know how you could spend nearly a decade loving me, planning a life with me, and then cut and run without even a basic explanation just four weeks before our wedding.”

To his credit, the man doesn’t blink.

“Okay,” he says softly. “That’s fair. First, will you let me apologize?”

“Apologies are meaningless without a change in behavior.” I read that in a relationship book co-written by Camille’s shrink brother. “If you’re not planning to explain what happened and tell me how you’ll make sure you never hurt me that way again, I’m not interested in your apologies.”

Pride bubbles up in my chest. I’m normally not this straightforward with him. Even Trent looks taken aback.

“That’s fair.” He clears his throat. “Look, I’m sorry, Sara. That night you came over and started talking about secrets, it triggered something in me. Something we agreed a long time ago not to discuss.”

I stare at the man I always expected to marry. “So rather than discussing it, you ran away?”

He clenches his jaw like he does anytime we’re caught up in conflict. But this is no squabble over whose family we’re seeing for Easter. This is mylifewe’re talking about. Our life together.

The life I thought we both wanted.

He’s not saying anything, which probably means he’ssearching for just the right words. He can search and listen at the same time, because I suddenly have more to say.

“You and I talked about getting married from the time we were kids, but you waited until last year to propose. I understood why, Trent. Your parents have a terrible marriage, and you wanted to be sure we shared the same vision for our future.” I pause in case he wants to dispute that, but he’s watching my face like he’s hearing me clearly for the first time.

Good. Because I’m not done. “I was willing to wait for you because I’ve loved you from the moment I first understood what love was. My love for you felt big enough to bridge all the gaps in our dreams for a future. We might not have agreed on where we would live or how our careers might unfold or which church we’d go to or—” I stop because it feels kinda crummy to focus on where we didn’t agree. We’re human; of course we had differences.

“But at the end of the day,” I continue, “we believed in the same exact things. A future for the two of us. A future of reading bedtime stories to our children and raising them with love like my parents did. A future of candlelit dinners for two and sweet little Mom and Dad getaways once the kids got older.” Tears fill my eyes and I blink them back hard. “A future where we’d grow old together, sitting side by side in that twin rocking chair my grandfather built with his own two hands.” Drawing a breath, I wrap up my passionate plea. “For as long as I’ve known you, you told me you wanted the same things. And if you changed your mind, then you owed it to me to explain, rather than leaving me high and dry with no answers.”

There. I’ve said my piece. I’m shaking and sick to my stomach, but I said what I was too fucking shellshocked to say the day he walked out.

Trent takes a deep breath and nods. “You’re right,” he says softly. “I’m sorry I handled things the way I did. I’ll get right to the point, but I need you to grant me one thing first.”

“What’s that?” I whisper.

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