Page 109 of The Mistakes I've Made
We’d raced back to his house, barely able to contain our pulsating need for each other. My heart had raced as he pushed me through the open door, only to make love to me against it moments later.
He’d never taken me there before.
I had known it meant something.
It had to have.
So the next day, as I had sung to myself over a pan of sizzling bacon, wearing one of his old T-shirts, I’d let myself dream.
But instead of boardrooms and exotic hotels, this dream was different.
Different and amazing.
And all mine.
I’d pictured myself here, in this town, somewhere down the road.
Not just for a few days or a week but a year. Two years. Ten.
I’d pictured our life on this island, and for once, I hadn’t been scared.
For once, I hadn’t felt alone.
Until I had seen his face when he came down the stairs, and I’d realized something was seriously wrong.
Maybe fantasies weren’t supposed to come true after all.
All my fears had been confirmed the next day when I’d sat at the inn for hours, waiting for him to pick me up for Sunday dinner at his mother’s house.
He never showed.
After several unanswered calls and texts, and a full twenty-four hours of radio silence, I began to get worried. Had something happened?
Racing into the office of Sutherland Fishing Co. the next morning, I found only Dean.
“Have you seen Taylor,” I’d asked. “Is he okay?”
A sad expression had passed across his face. “He’s fine, Lani.”
I had my answer.
I hadn’t tried to contact him since.
“Have you asked him why?”
“No,” I answered. “I don’t have to. From the beginning, he made his intentions clear. The town comes first. I was never part of his permanent plans.”
Her voice was warm and comforting. “Lani, I know you’re hurting, but think this through with me. If Taylor had this money—which is a lot by the way—sitting around from the beginning, why didn’t he just buy the hotel from your father weeks ago?”
I shrugged, unwilling to justify his betrayal. “Maybe he needed a distraction.”
“Maybe he’s pushing you away,” she said. “And, in effect, running from the one thing he wants more than anything.”
It was a romantic notion, but one I couldn’t comprehend. Not when my heart was breaking and my chest ached.
And—
“You know, Jake ran once,” she went on, her eyes wistful, deeply emotional. “We’d barely graduated from high school, but even then, I had known. We had known. He was mine, and I was his. We would have our whole lives together.”
