Chapter 17
Something’s up with Weaver.
I felt it even before our little fight in the coat check line.
The way he looked at me after he saw my photos, the way he held me on the dance floor, his lips brushing my forehead as we swayed to the haunting melody drifting through the air…
It was all so damned bitter-sweet.
He feels it, too, how special we could be. I’d bet my hands on it. But I’m just as sure that he’s about to end things. I can feel him pulling back, looking for reasons to bail.
And he won’t have to look far.
There’s the age gap, the wealth gap, the lifestyle differences, our families, the distance between us once he returns home…we have at least half a dozen obstacles that would make a long-term relationship very difficult. If he’s thinking it’s time to cut bait before this “casual” thing gets any less casual than it is already, now is the time.
But for some reason, I’m not afraid.
Something’s up with me, too, something that’s been shifting the past few days and finally slid into place somewhere between having my palm read and holding Weaver’s gaze across the table at the best meal of my life.
I love this man. I love him with every piece of my heart. And despite all the times I’ve watched love crash and burn in my life, that’s the least scary thing in the world.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve only known him a week. Being with him feels so right and real, not scary at all. Even if he leaves, I’ll never regret falling in love with him. It’s the best thing ever, like the world is suddenly in technicolor and every beautiful thing is more beautiful, because I get to share them with him, my Ice Prince.
Though now I know he isn’t nearly as cool and untouchable as he pretends to be.
As he taps his phone to the sensor on the door of our room, I study his profile, seeing him with new eyes. He isn’t cold. He’s one of the most passionate people I know. He cares so much more than he lets on and is more vulnerable than he’d like the world to believe.
The sensor hums and he pushes on the handle, pausing with the door cracked a sliver to glance my way. “Yes?”
I smile. “Nothing. I just like looking at you.”
He doesn’t return my grin, and his tone as he says, “I like looking at you, too,” sounds like he’s reading the first lines of a eulogy.
Ouch. This is going to hurt. Whether he ends it tonight or waits until he drops me off in Sea Breeze on Sunday, the pain of saying goodbye to the only man I’ve ever loved is going to kill me a little.
But I still don’t want to run. I want to stay and soak up every second with him. If all I’ll ever have of Weaver is memories, then I want as many of them as I can get.
Inside the room, there’s soft jazz music playing on the large, old-fashioned radio by the door. As Weaver empties his pockets on top of the smooth wood, I kick off my heels and wander across the thick carpet, my jaw dropping as I take in the space.
The room is round and enormous, with a high ceiling featuring a tasteful chandelier. In the center of the space, there’s a cream-colored sofa and a coffee table topped with fresh flowers, flanked by two gray lounge chairs. Behind them, closer to the gently sloped wall, is a formal dining table with seats for six, topped with more fresh flowers, and to the left is the entrance to a galley kitchen bigger than my kitchenette at my apartment.
“Wow.” I spin in a slow circle, taking it all in before pausing in front of the coffee table to stare out at the view. The windows curve all the way around from the kitchen to this side of the room, creating a ninety-degree view of the harbor and the ocean beyond.
“The room meets with your approval?” he asks, his voice a soft rumble from behind me.
I turn, watching him cross the carpet with my heart in my throat. “Yes. I don’t even care that there’s not a bed.”
His lips twitch. “There’s a bed.” He nods to his right. “It’s in there. In the bedroom. Through the door.”
“I know,” I say, keeping my eyes locked on his, certain that if I look away for a second, I’ll lose him for good. “I was joking. I’m not that backwoods.”
“You’re not backwoods at all,” he says, closing the last of the distance between us. He reaches up, skimming his fingertips across my forehead, brushing over the place he kissed on the dance floor before tucking a few loose strands behind my ear. “You’re a proper Downeaster Maniac with saltwater in your veins.”
I search his face, trying to guess where this is going, but his expression is back to the unreadable mask I encountered that first night in his bedroom. “Thank you? I guess?”
“It was meant as a compliment,” he says, his voice still sad. “You belong here. You love everything about being from Sea Breeze and Sea Breeze loves everything about you.”
“Oh,” I say, my throat tightening. “I see.”
“What do you see?” He scans my face, as if trying to memorize it before he walks out the door.
“That’s the deal-breaker,” I say, a little wobble in my voice. “You’ve decided I’m happy where I am and it’s best to leave me there. Like a pig in shit.”
His brows lift. “I never said that.”
“No, you said I should pull myself up by my bootstraps and do something with my life instead throwing it away hauling lobster traps,” I say, motioning toward the door behind him. “What happened to that? That was like…five minutes ago. What changed between down there and up here?”
“I didn’t say that, either.”
“You did,” I say. “Maybe not in those exact words, but that was the underlying message. I can read subtext, you know. I may be dumb dock trash, but I got pretty good grades in school.”
His gaze grows frostier. “Decided it’s your turn to pick a fight?”
I press my lips together, forcing away the stinging sensation pricking at the back of my nose. “No, I just…” I swallow and force the heat from my tone. “But like I said, I’m not stupid. I can feel it.”
“Feel what?”
“You pulling away.” I shrug and drop my gaze to the lush carpet, not wanting him to see the shine in my eyes as I add, “And I really don’t want you to. Because I…”
I dampen my lips with the tip of my tongue, gathering my courage as my heart beats frantically in my chest. It feels like I’m about to stand up in front of a firing squad, but my logical mind knows that’s not true. Losing the people you love hurts like a killing blow, but it doesn’t actually kill you. If Weaver turns his back on me and walks away, or worse, tries to let me down easy, I’ll be okay.
Maybe not tomorrow or the next day or the next, but eventually, time will pass and I’ll forget how it felt to stand at the edge of this cliff, desperate to take the leap, if only my person would jump with me.
He is my person.
He may not see that, but I do, and that certainty gives me the guts to lift my chin and look him straight in the eye as I say, “I love you. I didn’t mean to love you. I didn’t expect to love you. You were a real piece of work that first night. And you’re bossy and fussy and you have pretentious rich person snacks that don’t taste as good as normal snacks. But…”
I pull in another breath, feeling like I might vomit as he continues to stand there staring as I puke my heart out onto the floor between us. “But you’re also a smartass and an art lover and kinder than you want anyone to realize. You’re thoughtful and compassionate and take genuine pleasure in making other people happy. And you continue to be patient with your family long after a saint would have thrown up their hands and run.”
“I did run,” he says softly. “I ran all the way to New York City and I almost never came back.”
“But you did come back. When they needed you.”
“They might need me, but they don’t want me,” he says, still holding my gaze, giving me hope that all isn’t lost. “They’d be happy to keep things just as they were before Rodger died, until they eventually run into a politician who can’t be bribed, and the Tripp empire sinks into the sand. No one wants me here.”
“I want you here,” I say. “And there are more of us. I’m sure Elaina and Maya would love you once they got to know you.”
His lips quirk up on one side in a humorless smile. “And how would that work? We’d sneak into the café after dark through the back door? I’d get to socialize with a group of much younger women with the curtains drawn like some kind of cult leader? Or maybe I could hide in the back of your pickup truck on the way to the beach party and come out once you’d made sure the coast was clear and no Sullivans were there to see me.”
Taking his meaning, I exhale a frustrated breath. “You don’t want your family to know, either. You said so. Hell, you said you didn’t want anyone in town to know. You wanted me to sneak onto your boat after dark and leave before morning, like some shameful secret.”
“Things change,” he says, his voice rough as he steps closer, his entire body suddenly vibrating with energy. “You aren’t a shameful secret. You’re…”
“I’m what?” I ask, the tears slipping down my cheeks no matter how hard I try to stop them.
“You’re all I want,” he says, the wall behind his eyes finally falling away, revealing the pain beneath. “All I think about. Every moment of every day, no matter what I’m doing, if you’re not there, it feels hollow. An exercise in fucking futility. Step after step down the wrong path. Nothing feels real or good until I share it with you.”
I gulp, my tears falling faster as he wraps his hands around my upper arms.
“I crave the sound of your voice in my ears,” he rasps. “I dream about your mouth, your laughter, your hand in mine. I dream about holding your damned hand, Sully. Not fucking you or your mouth wrapped around my dick.” I’m shocked to see tears shining in his eyes as he adds, “I dream about walking through Central Park with you and…knowing you’re mine.”
“Come here,” I whisper, trying to reach for him.
But he holds me at a distance, shaking his head. “But I can’t kidnap you from your life like some Viking on a raid.” His hands slide down to grip my wrists. “You would have to want it. Truly want it, with every part of you. And you’d have to be open to change, whether we can make this work for the long term or not.”
He hesitates, despair tinging his voice again as he says, “And you don’t want it. You don’t want to leave this town or your friends or family. You don’t want to change careers or go back to school in the city.” He releases my wrists. “Hell, you don’t even want to tell the people you love that I’m part of your life. I’m the one who’s the shameful secret, not you. It’s never been you.”
“You don’t want to leave your life, either,” I shoot back, but there’s no heat in my voice.
I’m too soggy to sound angry. And I’m not angry, not with him anyway. A part of me is overjoyed that he feels the way I do. But the other part is still thinking logically, the way it has since I was that kid who woke up to find her parents were gone and taking care of herself was now her full-time job.
This isn’t me versus Weaver.
This is me and Weaver versus Fate, and Fate is proving to be a real bitch.
“You don’t want to move back to Sea Breeze and get an apartment with me or hang out with my ‘much younger’ friends,” I say, using his own words against him. “You would be bored to tears in a month. You’d get sick of how early I get up to go to work and probably hate whatever job you’d be able to get here and eventually you’d?—”
“I wouldn’t have to get a new job,” he cuts in, startling me.
“What?”
“I already spoke to my superiors,” he says, but still with that hopeless note in his voice. “I can work remotely for as long as I need or want to do so. I would have to make trips into the city every once and a while for meetings, but I could live in Sea Breeze full time or…anywhere else, really.”
I sniff and take a breath, rolling his words over in my head. “You… You really did that? You asked about staying?”
He nods. “I did. And if that were the only issue, I would. But it’s not.”
Fuck. He’d move to Sea Breeze. For me. He would give up his Mr. Fancy lifestyle and come back to a hometown he hates. For me.
No one’s ever inconvenienced themselves in the slightest to be my man. And here Weaver is, ready to abandon everything for a chance with me, Gertie from the docks, a woman with biceps larger than those of half the men downstairs and nothing to offer him but myself.
Tears threaten again as I whisper, “I don’t know what to say. No one’s ever loved me like this before. No one’s ever loved me…period.”
His features soften, and Weaver steps in, wrapping me in his arms.
I rest my face on his chest and let it crumple, clinging to him tight as I cry.
“Everyone loves you,” he murmurs to the top of my head as his big hand smooths up and down my back. “It’s impossible not to love you. Believe me, I tried.”
I look up, not caring that my face is puffy and my nose is starting to run. “You did? You tried not to love me?”
He nods. “For about ten minutes.”
I sniff again. “Liar. You didn’t love me after ten minutes. You were still holding me down on your bed and threatening to call the police at that point. Or to rough me up. I don’t remember.”
“I never threatened to rough you up.”
I arch a brow. “Except I’m pretty sure you did.”
His lips curve. “Maybe. But I didn’t mean it.” His hand drifts lower, until it rests at the base of my spine, right above where my bottom begins to curve. “And holding you down on beds is one of the ways I show my love. You should realize that by now.”
“I do.” I smile, even as fresh tears threaten. This night… It’s the hardest, sweetest, scariest, most thrilling night of my life, and I honestly have no idea how it’s going to end. “But…”
“But?” he prompts after a beat, his hand sliding lower, making heat pool between my hips. It would be so easy to give in to our chemistry, to make love on that couch or in the bedroom or out on the balcony with the cold ocean wind swirling around us, and forget about the heavy stuff until later.
But I’m no coward. And neither is he.
So, I answer him in a wobbly voice, “But I can’t see you here. It doesn’t make sense. You’d be miserable and…” I slip my hands under his vest, relishing the feel of his warm skin through the thinner cotton shirt beneath. “And well, I think I’d actually like New York. I like cities.”
His brows lift. “You do?”
“Well, I like Portland. That’s the only big city I’ve ever been to, but I liked it. I was really excited to go to school there before I decided I needed to stay home.”
His eyes narrow. “Because you felt you had to sacrifice what you wanted to take care of your grandfather.”
I start to deny it, but what’s the point. “Yes. But I don’t regret it. These past six years, working the boat with Gramps…they’ve been good times. And we’ve been able to put away a lot more for his retirement than we would have if I’d gone to school, and he’d been alone on the boat. I honestly don’t know if he could have managed things by himself. His shoulders are so messed up, half the time I have to haul all the traps in by myself. And if I got a decent job in the city, I could send enough money back for him to hire someone to take my place.”
Weaver shakes his head, but with affection. “Or you could just let me set your grandfather up with a pension for all his years of service to the community, and you could focus on taking care of yourself for once.”
I roll my eyes. “Even if I felt comfortable with that, Gramps would never allow it. Like…never. He’d throw himself into the sea before he took a Tripp’s money.”
“You wouldn’t have to tell him where it came from. You could say that you’ve come into an inheritance.”
I snort. “From who? He knows everyone I’m related to and most of them are even worse off than we are financially.”
“Make up a relative from your mother’s side of the family. Or tell him you won the lottery or found sunken treasure off the coast. Whatever you need to say to give you both a fresh start. He’s too old to be working his body this hard, and you’re too young to accept that this is all your life will ever be. Not if you want more.”
I press my lips together and give a little nod.
But inside, it feels like I’m out on a boat in the middle of a storm.
Can I really do this?
Can I leave Sea Breeze and everything I love behind for a shot at making love work with Weaver? I can’t, can I? It would be stupid to bet it all on a man I’ve known for a week, a man who comes with enough baggage to ensure the path forward won’t be easy for either of us.
But when I lift my gaze to his, I don’t feel scared or worried.
I feel like someone is finally seeing me, all of me, for the first time, and he thinks I’m special.
Precious. Irreplaceable.
“I’ve never been in love like this, either,” he says, showing the soft underbelly I love just as much as his strength and confidence. “But I promise I won’t let you down, Cat Burglar. If you trust me, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you don’t regret it. We can set up a bank account for you that I don’t have access to. I’ll put enough money in there to make sure you can leave the city whenever you want. You won’t be tied to me in any way if you feel homesick or want to leave for any reason.”
I smile and shake my head. “I don’t want your money. Or need it. If I were ever stranded in New York City, I would have tons of places to stay. My friend Sydney’s boyfriend has a penthouse he said I could use, and Sydney’s dad is there. So is her friend Noel from high school. I’m sure one of them would have room for me. I’d be fine until I could get a train back home.”
I slide my hands up his chest, looping them behind his neck, loving the feel of his arms wrapping tight around my waist as he pulls me close. “But I’m not worried about that. I’m more worried about what happens when I don’t want to leave.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re not?” I ask. “You don’t think you’ll get sick of me?”
He shakes his head as his lips drift closer to mine. “No, I think this is just going to get worse.”
“Worse?” I murmur, my eyes sliding closed. “Don’t you mean better?”
“Only if you stay with me,” he whispers. “Forever.”
Forever. He wants forever.
Before I can assimilate the awe-inspiring amazingness of that, his lips are on mine, and he’s kissing me in a way that makes me believe him.
This is for keeps.
And after tonight, nothing will ever be the same.