Secret surrender, p.16
Secret Surrender, page 16
“If you ever want to give up being a carpenter, you could try for a career as a professional psychic, you know that?” She kept her tone flat and her expression on him light, hoping humor would distract him.
He did laugh, shaking his head like he appreciated her levity, but then a prolonged silence took over, giving her dreaded moments to think.
Even though she stared at the ground, the sting of his gaze burned her skin, bringing a harsh heat to her cheeks. He’d always had a way of seeing right through her attempts to hold on to her true thoughts, though Dean seemed to have the same talent.
Or maybe I’m not half as cunning with keeping my thoughts to myself as I figured.
The funny thing about this silence, it made her want to say something, to free herself of all she held on to.
There’d been a time when everyone in Harlow knew everything about her. Knew too much about her. She’d gone from being a golden child living it up in Florida and on her way to a spot on the pro-tennis circuit, to a sad outlier everyone pitied. One minute she’d lived a teen dream, and the next, a futureless nightmare.
The truth had hung around her neck like a concrete target, an impossible-to-hide drag that had turned her emotions and privacy into a precious commodity—a rare gem never to be shared.
Maybe that’s why she held her interactions with Dean so close to her chest.
Yes, she didn’t want the judgment. No more pitying looks…
Poor Sarah, ditched by her fiancé and now rebounding with the new guy in town.
But also, she had no idea what her feelings for him were, and if she did, she sure as hell wasn’t about to admit to anything.
And then there was something else entirely. A more innocent truth. That she reveled in having something all to herself. The joy in her secret intensified because her “something” was actually a “someone”.
But secrets had a way of growing bigger and bigger and needing somewhere to go. If she wasn’t careful, control of this particular secret would slip from her fingers. She’d lose the ability to determine what others knew.
Then again, even if she wanted to talk, now was not the time. Blaine had his own problems, and he was also her ex-fiancé, as well as Ally’s, and now Dean’s, employer. Her truth telling could wait for another time.
She peered down and gave him a tight smile, wanting to offer at least some kind of explanation. “I need to mull a few things over before I can put what’s going through my head into words. Does that make sense?”
He gave a slow nod and patted the empty spot on the bench next to him. “It does. Though I hope you won’t let whatever it is get you too down.”
She sat and bumped her shoulder playfully into his. “I think I can handle this.”
Even though her throat constricted from the crush of her overwhelming emotions and a desire to get her thoughts out. But as always, she picked stubborn bravery over anything else.
“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” Blaine’s hushed tone broke through her inconvenient doubts, his expression open, yet somehow unreadable. “You’re the first person I’m telling this to, and I hope it won’t cause any extra pain.”
A tight band constricted around her ribcage, and she shifted her position toward him, her movements jerky. She tried to predict what he might say, her thoughts darting to something negative, but what exactly, she couldn’t decide.
“The moment I get out of this hospital...” He studied her face, as though measuring her reaction before adding, “I’m going to ask Emilia to marry me.”
Sarah’s face turned suddenly cold and was doubtless pale, her lips parting of their own volition. She wanted to believe he wouldn’t notice her unchecked shock, but she wasn’t so naive to pretend Blaine, of all people, wouldn’t see.
“Wow.” Her voice came out breathy and weak, and she struggled for more words.
She should have expected this, but Emilia had been in town only a couple of months, and Sarah had been with him a solid two and a half years before he’d asked her to marry him. “Are you sure about this?”
“After all that’s happened…” Blaine nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
She swallowed hard, and her mind flicked through all the years she’d been his girlfriend.
A hard and heavy ball of something made a home in her belly. She refused to call that something anger or spite, though it may well have been.
She wanted to be the bigger person here. To take Dean’s advice and believe none of this was about her personally. Just a series of unfortunate events that led to her stepping aside before she’d been tossed aside. Yet another move taken to preserve her pride.
And so, being the bigger person, she plastered on a smile and took Blaine’s hand, as if this news didn’t bother her.
“Why did you want to tell me first?” Even she could hear the thinness in her tone. “You don’t need my permission to marry Emilia. I’ll be happy for you either way.”
That much was true. She was happy for him. Did wish him the best. Even as she once again shoved herself through yet another closing door.
“I know you’ll be happy. You’re a survivor, Sarah Overton.” He squeezed his hand around hers. “But you still deserved to hear the news straight from me, and also, as ill-timed as this is, I need your advice.”
Tension drew at her forehead, and her brow flexed at the pressure. “Advice about what?”
Blaine’s eyes held an expectant glow as he spoke again. “I’m thinking maybe I could hold the engagement party at Oak Tree, since the showroom is big enough to hold everyone. Maybe Ally could do all the invites and preparations while I’m stuck in here. What do you think?”
“Oh no. No, no, no. You can’t do that.” She shook her head. Maybe she’d misheard him, though his nervous cringe didn’t support that theory. “Firstly, as nice as Oak Tree is, you can’t hold an engagement party at a furniture store—especially not if you’re planning to marry Emilia Bonacci, the heiress to a jewelry empire. Second, you and I both know Ally can’t keep a secret. The details of your proposal are bound to reach Emilia before you even get the chance to ask.”
His gaze slipped from her, and his lips formed a tight line. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Shit.”
A long silence took over, and she watched the disappointment play out across his face, disappointment being something he’d had a lot of lately. And because she hated to see that look on his face, because she had a megaton of guilt to escape, and maybe simply because she wanted things to be all right for a change, she opened her mouth and offered the unexpected.
“Let me take care of the party. We’ll host it at Maynard’s. I’ll even post the invitations for you.”
“Sarah.” His eyes pleaded with her, exhaustion dulling his complexion. “You know I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. I’m telling you I’m doing it.” She gave him a tight grin and patted his hand. “Though it might seem a bit weird that your ex-fiancée is organizing your engagement party.”
He gave an easy chuckle, his grin giving him an air of renewed lightness. “Some might say weird, I’d say unique. You sure about this?”
She gave a quiet nod, even though she wasn’t all that sure, but willing to help either way. “Just tell me when you plan to propose. I’ll do the rest.”
He took a deep breath, as though he needed a moment to accept her offer. “With any luck, I’ll get discharged on Sunday this week. The plan is to propose at Mirabelle Falls but tell everyone the party is just to celebrate my recovery. Hopefully she’ll say yes, and then I guess we’d head straight to Maynard’s, where maybe she’ll have a chance to take her mind off how tough these last weeks have been.”
He gave his head a slow shake and held her gaze for another while. “I don’t think you know just how much Emilia and I appreciate you. Anthony kept her isolated in LA, and it’s been so long since she’s had friends of her own. She keeps telling me how lucky she feels that you, Ally, and Aggie took her under your wings. For this, for everything else, thank you, Sarah.”
A soft tingling spread through her chest, filling the bitter moment with a layer of sweetness, reminding her she’d done the right thing in instigating the breakup, since her personal sacrifice meant two people were together and happier now.
In a round-about way, she was happier too. As in, she wasn’t with someone who would have come to seeing her as his second, and therefore, lesser choice.
“You owe me some boxes of tissues and numerous tubs of ice-cream.” She nudged Blaine, producing a genuine smile for once. “I’m supposed to go into mourning now, aren’t I? Now that my ex is marrying someone else…”
“Ice cream, I can do, but the tissues? No. You and I both know that almost nothing makes you cry.” He reached for his metal frame and gave a groan as he stood. “Though I guess given the month I’ve had, I should be mighty glad you’re not the type of woman to seek revenge over this. God knows, I’ve fielded enough revenge.”
He took a few lumbering steps and gave her a grin from over his shoulder. “Are you coming? It’s almost time for Oprah reruns.”
She spat out a crackling laugh and shook her head before standing. “Is this what hospital life has reduced you to?”
“Jealous?”
“Hell, no.” She laid her hand between his shoulder blades and helped him walk, mostly just delighting that for the first time in this whole ordeal, they had a chance to find a new place with each other. A place where they could move on. Be genuine friends again. That she really could organize his engagement party and not feel weird about it.
“Oh and, Sarah—” He led her into the corridor before pausing, his grin still in place, though significantly wider. “Say hi to the new man for me.”
Twenty-Eight
“Hey.” Dean trailed behind Sarah, the blue sky dotted with a few jagged gray clouds overhead, her usual quick steps taking her across a small road on the way to Main Street.
She stalked onward, not stopping to look at him. “Sorry, can’t talk now.”
He frowned at her back and pushed for a longer stride to catch up. She tended to keep to herself most times, but she also wasn’t usually outright dismissive either. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing, just busy.” Her staggered phrasing made her seem pissed more than busy, though over what, he had no idea.
He tried not to growl because Sarah wouldn’t play into growling, so a more nonplussed reply would have to work. “Okay. Well. Want to tell me what you’re busy with and maybe I can help?”
“I’m not sure you’d want to.” She swatted hair from her face, the light spring breeze working against her seeming need to get away from him. “I’m handing out invites.”
“Invites?”
“Yeah, invites.”
“Invites to what?
He wanted to roll his eyes at himself. He’d never been all that talkative, and this game of twenty questions only highlighted how far he’d fallen.
Fallen? As in, for Sarah? Have I really gone that far?
He couldn’t seem to shut up when it came to this woman, that much was clear. Then again, if she alone didn’t send him off-kilter, her evasive act right now did.
“Invitations to Blaine and Emilia's engagement party.” She held a casual tone but by now he had a good view of her profile, as well as the tension pulling at her jaw. “Though we’re not supposed to call it an engagement party, so try to keep that bit a secret.”
Her tight tone had his brow sinking heavy and his muscles turning slack. At least her cageyness wasn’t about him, and still… “You’re handing out invites to your ex’s engagement?”
“Yes.” Her steely stare pinned on the street ahead, and her stride didn’t slow.
She clearly didn’t want to talk about it, and somehow, he couldn’t let it go. “I guess that explains a lot.”
She sent him an unreadable stare before ripping her attention away again.
The Main Street storefronts flicked by to her right, and he marched alongside her, his hands clenched into fists in an attempt to keep from reaching out and grabbing her arm. She wouldn’t appreciate him forcing her to stop, much less forcing any kind of direct conversation. Was it even his place to talk exes with her?
But he had an endless list of things to say and wanted to cut the love-sick-puppy act, so he planted his feet and waited to see if she’d make room for him too. “Will you stop already and talk?”
She halted and swung around, her wide gaze darting about as though checking no one else heard his loud demand.
“We had a deal, remember?” She held a tight whisper, gaze still moving about her. “No public displays.”
“You want everyone to think we don’t get along, don’t you?” He crossed his arms, hinting that this current terse display would suit her goal perfectly. “Though I’m not so sure either of us is pretending right now.”
She swore under her breath and grabbed his arm, tugging him toward a narrow alleyway at the side of a coffee shop. She stared at him for a while, her jaw tight, before some of that tension slipped away and she gave a heavy sigh. “Blaine knows about us.”
The strain throughout his body dropped too, and he stared at her in stunned silence. “You told him about me?”
She sank back and shook her head. “No. He figured it out, which is worse.”
Well, yeah, that was worse, though probably not for the same reasons she figured. He’d wanted her to claim a stake over this relationship, over him. Telling someone, especially her ex, would have gone a long way toward that.
“He didn’t figure I was seeing you exactly, just that something had changed, and I was probably seeing someone.” She shrugged, not looking at him as she spoke. “I can’t help but wonder, if he put the pieces together, how long until everyone else does?”
He held silent for a moment, trying to decide what her true motivations were. “Would people knowing about us be so bad? We’ve been seeing each other for weeks now.”
“Maybe not, but it wouldn’t be fair.” She peered up at him, even as she began pacing in a short line back and forth. “Not for you.”
A heavy weight pressed on his lungs and breathing took extra effort. “Why me?”
“Because…” She bit her lower lip and stared at the ground. “I don’t know how I feel here, and…”
“And what?” He took a quick step forward, then stopped himself from going any farther. “You’re afraid you’ll have to end things, and that would be mighty embarrassing for me, is that it?”
She pressed her lips into a hard line and drew a slow breath. “I don’t know.”
“Despite your ‘tough-woman’ act, you sure care too much about what other people think.”
Lines sank between her eyebrows, hinting at her simmering temper. “We were meant to be a secret, now we’re not. So, sue me if I’m a little shaken about this.”
He shook his head, a slow warning for her not to insult his intelligence. He wouldn’t be so peeved about the privacy thing if she were willing to let him in at other times. Her vague approach extended to their moments alone together, and he wanted that to change. He wanted to know what she was thinking, didn’t always want to be on the outside, searching for a way in. “One person knows. One person. So, what’s really upsetting you here?”
“One person is a bad sign.” She shrugged, like his argument was no big deal, but it was and he refused to be dismissed.
He scoffed, wanting to call her a coward, but caring too much about her to say it out loud. “So, you’re spooked now? You never struck me as someone to wilt at the first sight of an obstacle.”
Her lips made that flat line again, her indifference on display, only for a soft sheen to wash over her eyes.
For the longest time, she said nothing, only gave a small and repeated nod, her throat bobbing as she swallowed and eventually found her voice. “Not because of what they might say…”
A sudden stillness washed over him. For the first time in his life, a mild ache formed within, taking up space inside his chest and expanding outward. Her reaction, the watery look she gave was less about impending tears, more an expression of being uncharacteristically overwhelmed. But by what?
“Why does everyone just assume that because I don’t appear to be falling apart, I’m handling things just fine?” Her words answered his unspoken question, and she pressed her palm to her forehead, turning from him. “I wish I could be an open book like Ally or Emilia, but I’m not, Dean, I’m just not.”
“What things are you not handling?” He remained still, unwilling to curse this rare candid moment. To be fair, he’d never assumed she was just fine—more of an incoming storm hidden beyond the horizon… bound to roll in sooner or later. “Maybe I can hel—”
“I’m not over the hurt of being ditched for another woman, okay?” She dropped her hand and gave him a direct stare before her expression crumbled, and she turned again like the shame of snapping at him hurt her too. “Telling everyone the engagement was off, it was humiliating and my confidence is a mess. And here you are”—she shot a hand out to him, still not making eye contact—“just sweeping into town and asking me to be ready, because, why? Because you’re ready. Well, I’m not. I’m telling you I’m not. But believe me, there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s all me. Me being broken and hurt, and just wanting my life to stay the same.”
This time her gaze did meet his, but there was a harder, more defensive edge in her eyes. “Is it too much to ask to be left alone? For everyone in this town to just back up and give me some space?”
Twenty-Nine
“Is that what you really want?” The question fell from Dean without much thought, but the deep, gnawing ache in his gut said he hung on her answer. “You want to be alone?”
She shook her head, her silence drawing out.
Someone he didn’t recognize crossed the alley’s entrance, past the coffee shop’s large windows, their quick pace taking them farther down Main Street and out of earshot. “The scary part is, as much as I tell myself I’m unsure, I know how I feel about you, Dean.”
