Page 49 of Just Like Starting Over
For good would be even better.
“It’s not like that,” Sylvia says, her hand falling on my arm.
I feel the softness of her fingers and smell the scent of her skin, hear her single word again, and in a way, it makes everything worse.
I meet her gaze. “It’s not like that,” I repeat, then count items off on my fingers. “He visits your grandmother. He makes it possible for Merrie to open the café so you’ll have a job here in Empire to be with Una. He buys the diner and Una’s house from Dad, then gives the house to Una. He up-ends your entirelife and you tell me that there’s nothing between you. You say you want me, but every time I turn around, we’re talking about Luke. What am I supposed to think, Sylvia?”
She steps forward and places the flat of her hand on my chest. She has to feel that my heart starts to pound harder. Then she looks up at me, her eyes wide and her expression so sincere that I’d believe her if she told me the moon was made of green cheese. Those freckles just destroy me.
She speaks softly, so earnest that I believe her. “Luke thinks he screwed up my life by taking me away from that party on prom night. He’s on a quest to make amends, but not because he’s in love with me. He’s given me a fresh start in Empire and I appreciate that. We might be friends, but probably more like acquaintances, and that’s just fine.” She leans closer, her voice dropping, her eyes filled with an appeal. “You shouldn’t make more of it than that.”
In a way, she’s not asking for much, and in another way, it’s everything.
I know I need to trust her on this, and show her that I do.
I frown and clear my throat. “So, a place to live,” I say, feeling more purposeful with a clear objective. “Close to Una and close to work?”
Sylvia nods, then winces. “And cheap.”
“Presumably with a bathroom.”
She laughs.
The great thing is that I might have a solution.
Better, she’s still smiling at me. I can’t even breathe, much less blink. “You’re scheming something.”
“No, just an idea. Pull out your phone.” She does and I give her the name of the company. “It’s a couple in Port Cavendish. They restore and outfit vintage trailers, some with all the bells and whistles, some simpler. You maybe could park one on Una’s property.”
Sylvia’s lips part as she studies the display on her phone and her eyes light. She must have found the website but I’m loving the chance to watch her being happy. That I might have had something to do with her mood is icing on the cake. “Mike, that’s brilliant. It might be ideal.”
“You’d have to go down and check it out…” I say, but she’s shoving her phone back into her purse and reaching for me again. Her hand slides around my neck as if she casually touches me all the time, then her fingers are in my hair. I’m in knots all over again, completely lost, and she has the most wicked smile ever.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, a gleam in her eyes that drives every coherent thought from my head.
Then she kisses me on the cheek.
In a way, it’s hotter because it’s so fleeting, just a tease, not even a taste – and it leaves me burning for more when she pulls away.
We smile into each other’s eyes for a long, sweet moment, one that fills me with hope for a future together. I slide my hand up her back, unable to resist the chance to caress her.
“Tomorrow,” Sylvia whispers and my heart leaps. “The café is closed and I’ll be here painting.”
All she had to do was ask.
“Tomorrow,” I agree, not caring what I have to say or do to be with her.
Tomorrow.
I’m temptedto whistle as I leave Empire, even though I doubt there’s anything particularly special waiting for me at Cavendish Enterprises. My dad maybe, wound up about something.
My own place isn’t that much more tempting. I know there’s half a bar of dark chocolate in the fridge, but it’s been there so long that I’m skeptical of its state.
There might be a beer, but probably not.
I could head into Havelock and get something to eat, although the drive isn’t tempting.
I could stop in at Casa Cavendish: I’d get a plate of whatever they’d had for dinner but Candace would make a fuss about my unexpected appearance in what was once my home.
