Chapter 13 #2
Convinced he needed to stay where the work was, he’d let her go. They’d had a bicoastal relationship ever since and had been making it work—somehow—until last summer when he came home for Mac’s wedding and Abby issued an ultimatum Grant hadn’t seen coming.
She was all done waiting for him. Either he came home to be with her, or she was moving on with her life without him.
He’d panicked, of course, and told her he needed one more year to turn things around in LA.
Nothing had gone his way since the magical night he’d received the Oscar nearly three years ago—ironically right around the time Abby had left.
Lately, it seemed, he couldn’t get a job flipping burgers in Hollywood.
As it turned out, winning the big one had been a disaster for his career.
He’d become his own worst nightmare: a one-hit wonder.
The latest blow had come a week ago when he’d been rejected for a job he’d been promised by a producer friend.
“I couldn’t get it past the money people,” his friend had said when he called to deliver the crushing news.
It was another disaster on top of the one that had come a few days before—news from home that Abby planned to marry someone else.
Grant had been awake all night after the phone call from the producer. At about three in the morning, it dawned on him that he’d had enough of Hollywood. He’d had enough of living without Abby, of pretending he had any kind of life at all without her by his side.
If he had any prayer of convincing her that she was making an enormous mistake by marrying anyone other than him, he had to go home and make things right with her.
So he’d packed most of his stuff into storage, put his place in Malibu on the market, left his car with a friend to sell and headed for LAX.
Now, as he studied her storefront from the quiet sidewalk that would soon bustle with tourists, he could only hope he wasn’t too late.
At nine o’clock on the dot, Abby appeared at the front door and turned the Closed sign to Open.
Watching her, Grant stood up a little straighter and waited for her to notice him there. But she turned away and went back into the store, leaving him standing there like a lovesick fool hoping the girl he favored would grace him with a glance.
He’d have to go in. For some reason, that frightened him. He’d pictured this playing out differently. She’d see him out there on the sidewalk, her eyes would widen, and she’d burst through the door to throw herself into his arms.
“It’s not a movie, you asshole,” he muttered to himself. For a guy who fancied himself rather good with words, he had no idea what he planned to say to her. All he knew was he had to say something to stop her from marrying the wrong man.
Steeling himself for whatever reaction she might have to his sudden reappearance, he cleared his throat, ran unsteady fingers through his hair and pushed open the door. Jingling bells announced his presence.
“Be right with you,” she called from the back room.
Grant was hit right away with her favorite scents—lavender and sage and a hint of vanilla—and a memory of their years in LA when he arrived home each night to one of her favorite scents coming from the candle of the day.
God, why hadn’t he married her when he’d had the chance?
When she’d been living in his house, their two lives entirely entwined?
He’d made the mistake then of assuming nothing could ever come between them.
He’d made the monumental mistake of putting his ambition ahead of her.
The store was cluttered and cozy and practical, just like the woman who owned it. As he waited for her, Grant’s heart hammered in his chest, and his palms were suddenly damp.
“Hi there,” Abby said. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Grant looked up and their eyes met.
Her big brown eyes got even bigger, and she sucked in a sharp, deep breath when she saw him. “Grant.”
“Hi, Abs.” Her shiny dark hair had gotten long in the year since he’d last seen her, and as he contemplated the mouth that had fueled his fantasies for as long as he could remember, Grant realized he’d played this all wrong.
He never should’ve given her a year to ponder life without him, and he feared he’d regret that for the rest of his days if he couldn’t convince her to give him one more chance.
“What’re you doing here? Janey’s wedding isn’t for two weeks yet.” She kept her hands busy straightening shelves that didn’t need straightening. A flash from the large diamond on her left hand sliced through him like a heated laser, leaving him breathless and anxious.
“I’ve come home. To stay.” As he said the words she’d waited years to hear, he braced himself for her fury. It was the least of what he deserved.
“Is that so?”
Grant took a step closer to her. “I’m home, Abby.”
“Your mother must be pleased.”
His mother? “Is she the only one?”
“Your dad, Janey and Mac, too, I assume.”
What the hell was wrong with her? Here he was telling her he’d finally left Los Angeles. He’d finally come home to her, and she didn’t really seem to care. How was that possible after the years they’d spent loving each other so passionately?
“What about you?” Another step closer. “Are you at all happy to see me?”
“Of course I am.” Her eyes flashed with emotion, which gave him hope. She began refolding a pile of perfectly folded Gansett Island T-shirts.
“I’m sorry for making you wait so long. I know now that was wrong. I shouldn’t have gone back last year after you told me how much you wanted to get married and have a family.”
“You did what you needed to,” she said in a flat, emotionless tone he’d never heard from her before. “I certainly understand that.”
Grant reached out to stop her from refolding another shirt. “Abby, what’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” she said, raising her chin defiantly. “Everything is great with me. I finally have everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“But what about us?”
“There is no more us, Grant. I told you that a year ago. You made your choice, and I made mine. It’s over.”
He heard the words, but everything in him rejected them. “No. It’s not over.”
The bells on the door jingled again, and Grant bit back a swear of frustration. He wanted to tell whoever it was to get the hell out, but that would hardly help his case.
“Hey, darlin’,” a deep voice drawled behind Grant. “Brought you a caffeine boost. What a crazy night I had operating on a dog! Oh, sorry, didn’t see you had a customer.”
Right before Grant’s eyes, Abby lit up at the sight of the guy who’d brought the coffee. The fiancé, he presumed.
Grant pushed back his shoulders and turned to take in the competition. The guy was tall, he’d give him that, with blond hair—long blond hair. Since when did Abby go for the longhaired type? Muscular, blue-eyed and a goofy lovesick smile aimed at Abby that made Grant see red.
“Ahh, Cal. Come meet my old friend, Grant McCarthy. Grant, my fiancé, Dr. Cal Maitland.”
As Cal crushed his hand, Grant tried to fathom being introduced as Abby’s “old friend” to her fiancé. I was the love of her freaking life! Had she completely forgotten that?
“Good to meet you, Grant. You in town for a while?”
“Yeah.” Grant cast a long glance at Abby, who radiated discomfort. “I’ll be here awhile. As long as it takes, in fact.”
“For what?” Abby asked, alarmed.
Grant leaned in to make sure only she could hear him. “To fix this.” He nodded to Cal on the way by. “You all have a nice day.”