Chapter Eleven
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mark
F inding Jennifer wasn’t all that difficult. From watching her videos, I knew where she was and where she planned to visit. All I had to do was walk around until I spotted her.
The honey store she had mentioned the day before was tucked into the corner of Main Street, its cheerful yellow sign swinging gently in the breeze. Through the window, shelves gleamed with amber-colored jars, beeswax candles, and small displays about pollinator conservation. It wasn’t the kind of place I’d normally step into dressed in a suit.
But Jennifer La Salette was inside, and today, I wasn’t a Sugar Shack owner.
I was Dylan DeVoss.
Self-made multi-resort owner.
Jennifer stood by the counter, her back to me, talking to an older woman in a denim apron embroidered with a honeybee. Jennifer’s hair was swept up, but loose strands partially hid her face as she leaned in, holding her phone in one hand and gesturing with the other.
She wasn’t just listening—she was drawing the story out, encouraging the woman to share more.
“It’s not just about making honey,” the shop owner said, her voice carrying to the doorway where I stood. “It’s about saving the world, one bee at a time. Pollinators are responsible for over a third of our food supply. Without them, we’d be in big trouble.”
I stepped farther into the shop, positioning myself where I could see them both better.
Jennifer nodded, her expression earnest. “So, your work is as much about education as it is about beekeeping?”
The woman’s face lit up. “Exactly! If more people understood how crucial bees are, they’d think twice before spraying pesticides or cutting down wildflowers.”
I lingered near the doorway, watching Jennifer work. She was a natural at getting people to open up. It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful, but that only got a person so far. What was impressive was how she actively listened—how she made the shop owner feel heard.
It wasn’t just an interview; it was a celebration of the woman and her accomplishments.
Was this what had drawn Dylan to her?
A spark of this must have been in her even when she was younger. Few people embraced exchanges with strangers with the openness that was evident in Jennifer.
How sad that Dylan could have had this kind of person in his life and missed out on it.
There had to be a way to give them a second chance.
When the interview wrapped up, I took a deep breath and stepped closer. The scent of honey and wax thickened as I made my way to the counter.
“I’ll take two jars of your wildflower honey,” I said to the shop owner, keeping my tone casual.
Jennifer glanced up, her eyes narrowing slightly when she saw me.
“They’re my best seller,” the woman said, moving behind the counter. “You won’t be disappointed.”
Jennifer turned to face me fully, her caution evident in the way she held herself.
“Dylan?” she asked, testing the name like she wasn’t sure it fit me.
“Guilty,” I answered easily, offering a small smile. “Would it cross any lines if I said I’ve become a fan of your YouTube channel? You make every town you highlight sound like somewhere I should open a resort.”
Her lips curved into a faint smile, though the wariness didn’t leave her eyes. “Is there a town in New England you’ve missed? Your name is becoming synonymous with skiing in the north.”
I shot her my most charming smile. “That’s an exaggeration I’ll accept—only because it means you noticed.”
She looked away, then met my gaze again. “It was impossible not to. You’re all over my social media feed.”
“The same is true about you.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m successful. That’s the algorithm—it shows you what you want to see.” Her face flushed. “Not that I’m what you want to see...” Her voice trailed off.
Her self-deprecating humor reminded me of Lanie, and my gut twisted at the memory of what Dylan had told me.
She’d moved on—no longer cared about me.
It was time for me to move on too.
“I’m glad you’re doing something you enjoy.”
Tension seemed to leave her at that. “I feel the same.” Her eyes darkened. “It’s been a long time.”
“It sure has.” I paid for my honey and accepted the bag. “Are you done for the day, or do you have more people you plan to interview?”
“I had a few more places I wanted to hit before going back to the hotel.”
I tipped my head to the side and smiled. “Would you like a cameraman?”
Her eyes widened, and she bit her bottom lip before responding. “You wouldn’t be bored following me around?”
“Can’t imagine anything I’d like to do more.”
She blushed again, looked away, and shook her head as if blinking back tears. But when our eyes met, hers were shining with emotion.
“I always wondered what it would be like when we finally crossed paths again. I was afraid it would be ugly.”
I lifted a shoulder, keeping my voice gentle. “We were both young. Too young for what we thought we were ready to rush into. I’ve done a lot of living and growing up since then.”
Just above a whisper, she responded, “I have as well.”
“I’d love to hear about what you’ve been up to. If you’d rather finish making your content alone, we could meet up later. I’m staying at the Haverwick Hill Hotel.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Is that a coincidence?”
Deciding it was best to at least sound like Dylan, I said, “You know I don’t believe in those.”
“Did you come to Haverwick because you knew I’d be here?”
“If I said yes, would that send you running?”
“No,” she answered quietly. “It wouldn’t.”
“Good, then lead the way. I’m enjoying watching you work your magic on people.”
That earned me a small laugh. “There’s no magic involved. I only ask them whatever I’m curious about.”
“And you do it well enough that you leave people happy to have shared their stories with you.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so.”
We stood there for a moment, assessing each other. I felt a flicker of guilt for misleading her, but since my goal was to help them both, I held the course.
She searched my face, touching my arm as if checking to see if I was real, then frowned. For just a moment, I worried she could tell I wasn’t Dylan. She seemed conflicted, about to say something—then decided against it.
Her expression lightened, and she walked to the door before looking over her shoulder at me. “Come on, cameraman. We have several people to talk to, and it’s best to do that while the lighting is still good.”
By the time the sun began to set, conversation between us had become much more relaxed. We ended up at a little bistro a few blocks from the honey store. The atmosphere was intimate but unpretentious, with mismatched chairs and flickering candles on the tables. Once again, I was the best-dressed person in the room. Even Jennifer, who had clearly put effort into her outfit and makeup, was more casual—wearing a dark green fitted sweater and slacks.
We sat near the window, and for a while, the conversation stayed light. Hours flew as we talked about the town, her travels, and the kinds of people she met through her work.
“You’ve been everywhere,” I said, shaking my head. “What’s left on the bucket list?”
“Oh, there’s always more to see,” she said, her eyes shining. “But lately... I’ve been thinking more about finding a home base—somewhere I can put down my luggage for more than one night.”
“Really?” I asked, leaning forward slightly. “What are you thinking of doing next?”
“I still want to travel.” She gave a small shrug, her gaze dropping to her wine glass. “Maybe it’s only because I see the big three-oh looming, but I’m getting tired of living out of my luggage.”
The shift in her tone was subtle, but it opened the door to something deeper.
I decided to take a chance.
“Jennifer, I know things ended badly between us,” I began carefully. “But I need you to know—I never cheated. Not then, not ever.”
Her head snapped up, and for a moment, she looked defensive. Then her shoulders sagged slightly, and she gave a small, rueful smile. “I believe you. I should have trusted you, but...”
“You were always afraid something like that would happen?” I guessed gently. I’ve always been good at reading people.
She nodded. “Yeah. My dad’s mistakes messed me up more than I realized. I told myself I’d never end up like my mom—blindly trusting someone who could betray me. But I guess I was so afraid you’d cheat on me, I was primed to believe it.”
Looking into her eyes, I had to remind myself that I wasn’t Dylan. That I wasn’t the one who had hurt her. Still, I said what I would have said if I were him. “Jennifer,” I said gently, “I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for us.”
“Me too.” She reached out, laying her hand on mine. “Thank you. For saying that.”
We both looked down and away. Despite how much my heart broke for her, I wasn’t attracted to her. If the disappointment in her expression was anything to go by, she felt the same. I wished I could tell her that was a good thing. It meant what she had felt for Dylan back then—what she probably still felt for him—was real.
She slid her hand off mine and seemed to lose herself in memories for a moment before asking, “There’s no going back, is there?”
I shook my head. “Not today, at least.”
Her forehead furrowed. “Are you with someone?”
“No, but there are a few things I should work on before I seek you out again.”
“I don’t understand.”
“But you feel it.” I sat back. How could I be honest with her without being fully honest? “Neither of us are who we were back then. I haven’t spoken to my parents in years.”
Her mouth rounded, and she gasped. “No. Tell me that’s not true.”
I couldn’t—so I didn’t. “I was hurt. I couldn’t understand why none of you believed me.”
She looked near tears again. “Carla was so convincing. She had pictures of the two of you together. At a pool in the Alps. Dancing. She sent them to me and...” Jennifer let out a shaky breath. “I showed them to your parents. I wanted to know who she was.”
That explained a lot.
“And?”
“They said she was your cousin but you were adopted, so maybe you didn’t see that as an issue. Carla told them you wanted to break off our engagement to be with her.”
“I didn’t.” That much I was certain of. Dylan would have told me if that were true. “She lied to you—all of you.”
“I believe that now, but I couldn’t back then.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” she asked urgently.
“I’m trying to. I didn’t understand what happened between us, but this explains a lot. I’ll need time to sort through everything, Jennifer, and then... I’ll come back.”
Her eyes brimmed with emotion and confusion. “You’re going to leave again? Just like that? And I’m supposed to believe you’ll come back?”
I stood. “I should have chased you down and done whatever it took to prove to you that you were the only woman I cared about.” I did feel sympathy for Jennifer, but she had played a role in their breakup, so I added, “But you might not have believed me anyway—because you didn’t believe in me.”
She rose to her feet. “I’m sorry, Dylan.”
I touched her cheek briefly, hoping Dylan would believe her when she said those words to him. “Me too.” With that, I left.
On the drive back to the hotel, I pulled out my phone and called Dylan.
“DeVoss.”
I smiled faintly at his brusque tone. “It’s Mark. Do you want an update?”
“Just fucking tell me.”
“It went well. Better than I expected,” I said honestly. “Jennifer’s successful, happy... and she seems open to seeing you again.”
There was a long pause. I could picture Dylan’s expression—his jaw tightening, his eyes narrowing.
“What does that mean?”
“It means she still cares, Dylan.”
“Did you find out why she broke things off with me?”
“Yes.” I gave him a brief rundown of what Jennifer had told me about Carla.
He let out a bitter laugh. “Fucking Carla. I knew she was trouble. I cut her out of my life before I started dating Jennifer. Not that we ever did anything. I saw her as family. What she wanted repulsed me. Nothing more dangerous than a woman scorned, isn’t that what they say? Well, at least now I know what happened. Thanks.”
“That’s it? Jennifer obviously still cares about you.”
“And that’s supposed to make me forget she essentially ruined my life?”
“Or was just as much a victim as you were.”
“She chose that role when she didn’t believe me.”
I sighed. I’m generally considered a good guy, but I agreed with him on that point.
“Okay, so you’re not ready to forgive her. That’s okay. I told her you’d need time.”
“It’s not a matter of time. The only reason she stayed in my thoughts at all was because I wanted to know what happened— but not enough to ask her myself. You did me a huge service, and I appreciate that. Now I know, and I can move on.”
Whether they got together or not was none of my business, but it saddened me to think how one person had changed the trajectory of so many lives.
Dylan. Jennifer. His parents.
Why would Dylan’s cousin have lied?
Had she wanted him for herself?
Or maybe she had wanted him for his money.
Did it matter in the end?
Good vs. evil. And this time, evil had triumphed.
I hated to see that.
The hum of the engine filled the silence after I ended the call.
Steven spoke up, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “Was she nice?”
“Who?”
“The woman you talked to for Dylan,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.
I smiled faintly. “Jennifer’s great. Smart, driven. Seemed like the kind of person Dylan would have been happy with. It’s sad he won’t give her a second chance. I was hoping this would work out for one of us.”
Steven raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“Lanie,” I said, my voice softening.
“Yeah?” he prompted.
“That’s who he went to see for me. We switched places hoping to shake things up. Stupid, right? Like something people in middle school would do?”
I slumped into the seat.
Steven didn’t respond immediately, but his expression shifted slightly.
“My wife left me because she said it felt like she was living with a stranger. She wanted me to talk to her about everything I’d been through. I didn’t want to talk about any of it. I don’t know how that led to us not talking at all, but it did. She moved out, and I helped her pack because I thought she’d be better off without me.”
Emotion clogged my throat. “Where is she now?”
“Remarried. They have two kids. I’m happy for her. She deserved more than I could give her.”
“Love is complicated, isn’t it?”
“It sure is.” He pulled into the hotel. “Are we staying or heading back?”
I considered both. “I don’t want to run into Jennifer again.”
“I’ll have your things sent down.”
I nodded sadly, then added, “Can you have them pack up those chocolates? They were delicious.”
Steven barked out a laugh. “Sure.”
“And the robe—if that doesn’t add a charge to the room.”
Steven laughed again. “You’ve earned it. Anything else?”
“No, that’s it.” I leaned forward, a faint grin tugging at my lips. “You know, you should visit Maplebridge sometime. There are a lot of single women there.”
He started to say no—but instead, he said, “I’ll think about it.”
With that, he slid out of the car and headed off to get my things.
I ducked down when I saw Jennifer walking up the path to the main entrance.
This is how you know you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing—when you’re hiding like a kid who stole something from a gas station and is trying not to get caught.
I am never pretending to be Dylan DeVoss again.