Page 9 of Love In Print

It took a moment for Rhys to set his phone down. His conversation with his cousin hadn’t given him the answer he sought. He wasn’t sure anyone could convince him that going to Rose’s on what was supposed to be the most romantic night of the year would turn out in his favor. Or in Maisie’s, for that matter.

Rhys went back to the paper and read her note again. It was almost as if he needed to memorize what she’d said. He tucked the newspaper into his bag and told Fenway they were leaving. With his current mindset he didn’t feel much like working.

After checking in with Phillipa, and making sure she didn’t need a ride, he told the clerks he would be home for the rest of the day if they needed him. Rhys managed to make it to his car without running into anyone he knew, and with Fenway in the backseat, her head hanging out of the open window, he drove home.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wainwright,” George, their house butler, greeted Rhys when he entered the main part of the house on a quest to find his son. When Rhys had Trey, he stayed home with his grandmother instead of going to daycare. “You’re home earlier than usual.”

“I have a lot on my mind today,” he told George. “Thought I’d come home and dwell on the little things instead of staying in the office.”

“Sometimes home has the answers, and sometimes the view does.” George nodded toward the back of the house, where the sweeping landscape ended at the shoreline. It was far too cold to take their boat out, but the picturesque beauty of the ocean never failed. Rhys followed George into the kitchen, where most of their less important conversations seemed to happen. The recently renovated kitchen was now white marble with ornate cabinetry. Rhys honestly had no idea where anything was in the grand room and was thankful for his own space. In his kitchen, he knew where the can opener was and where he kept his pots and pans.

“This is true. I might have to spend some time in the sunroom. Do you happen to know where my mother and son are?”

“Mrs. Wainwright has taken Trey to Discovery Land for the rest of the afternoon, and Senior Wainwright has gone into Boston for a meeting.”

“So, it’s just us?”

“I’m afraid so,” George laughed.

“All right then, let me ask you this.” Rhys went through the story, from their clumsy meeting at the grocery store, to the story in Missed Encounters.

“Oh, I read that this morning.”

“What? How come everyone reads this column except for me?”

George shrugged. “It’s entertaining and I’m a sucker for romance.”

“George, do you watch Hallmark movies when you’re not working?”

“Of course, I do. Most of the time Mrs. Wainwright and I watch them together.”

This news didn’t shock Rhys. His mother was a hopeless romantic and had urged him to make a go of things with Celeste for the sake of Trey.

“Anyway, what do you think I should do?”

George pulled a chair out from under the island in the kitchen. “If it were me, I’d go. She’s only asking for dinner. It’s not like she’s asking you to go on a cruise or something outlandish. She’s asking you to sit down and share a meal with her to give you both a chance to see if what you felt in the store is real or was in the moment. You have nothing to lose.”

Rhys digested George’s words and couldn’t find many faults with them. The truth was, Rhys could find just as many reasons to go as he could to stay home, but he felt the desire to go, to see this Maisie person again and to have another first chance at meeting someone.

“What if I’m wrong?”

George shrugged. “Then you’ll never be left wondering if the story was about you or not.”

five

Valentine’s Day

Maisie wanted to puke.She regretted ever sending, strike that, letting Dorian send the personal statement to Missed Encounters and wished she had let it all go as a missed opportunity—a learning lesson—if you see someone, talk to them. Instead, she listened to Dorian, who had the best of intentions, and was now so queasy she could barely stand up.

It was a good thing Maisie was sitting, but her knees quivered, nonetheless. Dorian stood behind her, singing whatever her favorite song was at the moment, while curling and pinning Maisie’s hair. Dorian had found a picture of a hairstyle she thought would look very elegant on her bestie and would work well with the dress Maisie planned to wear. And it would keep Maisie from twirling her hair around her finger or running her hand through it, which was a nervous habit of hers.

“This is a mistake.”

“It’s not,” Dorian said optimistically. “He’s either going to show or he’s not. You’re not losing anything by going.”

“Yes, I am. My dignity,” Maisie said for what felt like the millionth time since she told Dorian about the haphazard meeting in the aisle.

“If he doesn’t show you’ve lost nothing.” Dorian reiterated as she took the next section of Maisie’s hair and twirled it around the curling wand before pinning it in place.

---