Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Erin wished she had her sledgehammer.
It was morning. She was at home hand painting a new sign for Last Chance Vintage in her backyard. It should be relaxing, but she was impatient with the careful detail work. What she really wanted to do was take a sledgehammer to something. She was frustrated with everything—herself most of all.
Jamming the paintbrush back into the mason jar of red paint, she stretched her aching back, taking deep breaths to try to relax.
She worked at an old picnic table she’d asked her brother to drag into the field beyond her lawn.
She could spill all the paint she wanted without worry.
With a million things to prepare before the filming started at the store, Erin had taken a few days off from working the register so she could focus.
Too bad her thoughts were stuck on a producer from out of town and the stark pain she’d seen in his eyes the night before.
Remy Weldon was in far worse shape than she was emotionally.
Which meant he wanted to avoid romantic entanglements, too, which was helpful.
But she was incredibly attracted to him.
And now that she’d glimpsed the personal hell he was going through, she didn’t know how she would stay away.
She’d never been the nurturer type—that was more Heather’s thing—yet every latent feminine and gentle instinct inside her wanted to wrap Remy in her arms. Hold him.
And yes, sex him until he couldn’t see any woman but her.
There had been moments last night when he’d touched her and the touch had turned so electric she was sure he must feel the same way.
What if they’d been put in each other’s paths to help heal one another?
Maybe the chemistry between them could burn away some of his old guilt.
For that matter, she’d be glad to torch some of hers, too.
Talking to Remy about Patrick—and seeing the weight of all Remy’s baggage, made her realize she needed to stop carrying around so much guilt about being with a cheating, no-good bastard.
Time to move on.
The idea wouldn’t let her go.
“Anyone home?” A shout from the other end of the yard yanked her attention from her anger at Patrick. And the mix of new feelings she seemed to be developing for Remy.
Bethany and their soon-to-be sister-in-law, Nina Spencer, stood on the back patio of Erin’s house, carrying a bright blue cooler between them.
Bethany wore a straw sun hat as big as an umbrella.
Nina carried a basket with a towel peeping out of the top, and Erin would bet her last nickel it contained some kind of amazing baked good.
After working for years in a specialty cupcake shop in Manhattan, Nina had moved back to Heartache and reunited with her high school sweetheart, Erin’s brother Mack.
Today she wore a T-shirt with the Finleys’ logo on it for the bar Mack owned in Nashville.
They divided their time between his home there and a converted barn apartment on the Finley family property.
“You come bearing gifts?” Erin asked, drawn by the promise of food, help and the welcome camaraderie of sisterhood. After keeping a low profile in town for the past six months, she was ready to start enjoying herself again.
Forgiving herself. Maybe seeing how much Remy was beating himself up over something he’d had no control over had made her ease up on the guilt.
“We brought a little of everything,” Bethany announced, setting the cooler on the deck between the grill and the seating area. “Do you want to work first and eat later, or are you ready for a break?”
“So ready for a break.” Capping her paint jar, Erin took off her apron and left it on the picnic table.
Her sisters-in-law exchanged a look.
“What?” Erin joined them on the patio, kicking off her shoes as her feet hit the outdoor carpet.
“We made bets on how much hard labor we’d have to do before we got to try Nina’s cupcakes,” Bethany admitted. “Show her, Nina.”
“They’re lemon-berry.” Nina lifted the tea towel on the basket to show off neat rows of yellow-frosted dreaminess. “I frosted them a little too soon after they came out of the oven, but I was dying to try them.”
Erin inhaled the sweet-tangy scent. “Oh, wow. It seems only right that we eat these before we do anything else. Let me just run inside to wash up and I’ll bring us some drinks.”
“No need.” Bethany was already digging in the cooler. “Nina spent time in catering, so she thought of everything.”
Five minutes later, ensconced in a dark wicker patio chair with cream-colored cushions, Erin sipped her peach Bellini and took the smallest bites of her cupcake imaginable to make it last longer.
“This is so delicious. I can’t begin to tell you.”
“I think the frosting works with it,” Nina observed, swiping her finger over the top of the cupcake to take a frosting-only bite. “It doesn’t seem like overkill to me.”
“No.” Bethany shook her head. “But I love lemon. Sometimes you need the sour with the sweet to make you appreciate the taste of each.” She gestured to the patio.
“Like this little haven of Erin’s back here.
Who would guess she would create such a romantic and glamorous spot based on the rest of her decorating, which is so modern and kind of edgy?
But back here, it’s like a pasha’s palace. ”
Erin had to smile at that. “Pasha’s palace? Someone’s been hitting the romance novels again.”
Although she could appreciate the comparison. She had hung pendant lamps under the shelter of a pergola with a canopy. She had fallen in love with the lamps’ amethyst glass shades, which had the curvy appeal of a genie’s lamp. Plus, they were purple.
“Honey, don’t knock it until you’ve been ravished in the dessert and fed figs from the pasha’s hand.” Bethany pointed an accusing finger at both of them and Nina laughed so hard she snorted.
“I’m not knocking romance,” Erin defended herself. “I’m all for seeking a thrill somewhere since there aren’t any sexy Arabian princes in my life right now.”
“You never mentioned what happened with the guy you wanted to bring down here last year. Or is the ban on that topic still being enforced six months later?” Nina had a reputation for speaking before measuring her words, a habit none of the younger Finleys possessed.
With a mother who was bipolar, they’d grown up under the shadow of tirades where she’d shared way more than was appropriate.
Nina’s tendency was a lot more charming.
“Turned out he was married. With kids.” Erin had admitted it to Remy, so she sure didn’t see the point in keeping it from her sisters.
They were both so still it was like neither of them breathed for a minute.
“The dog,” Nina said finally. “Are you kidding me? And that’s rhetorical so don’t answer that. Unbelievable.”
Bethany shook her head. “I have got to fix my marriage. I cannot go out into a dating world where men act like that.”
“Yes, well, me neither. That’s why I’ve been working with my head down for six months trying not to think about it.
But I’m done feeling like the greatest of all sinners when he lied to me from start to finish.
” She frowned and reached for a chunk of Manchego from a bamboo board displaying three kinds of cheeses, star fruit and grapes.
Nina had labeled the cheeses with mini gardening tags on toothpicks.
“And I know you’re going to fix the marriage, Bethany. Scott seems really committed to it.”
Erin had seen them together at the Harvest Dance last fall and Scott had promised their mom to fight for his wife. Erin had believed him. Scott was one of those guys who did not fail. He was a conqueror.
Had Remy been like that before he lost his wife? The thought made her ache all the more for him.
Bethany shook her head. “He’s just going through the motions. Like if he clocks enough hours seated in a counselor’s chair we’ll be given some kind of certificate that says we’ve magically been healed. He doesn’t understand it’s not enough just to show up.”
“I did that for a long time,” Nina volunteered, cutting a few slices of apple before drizzling honey on them. “Remember when I left Heartache after high school? Right after Mack’s friend Vince died in a car crash because Vince and I had argued?”
“I didn’t know you went into counseling.” Although Erin recalled that time had been hell for both Mack and Nina. The hurt from that car crash had stolen eight years from them.
“I did. But it took a lot of sessions before I was ready to do more than just show up.” Nina sliced more apple and passed around the plates. “And it’s hard to spill your guts when you’re not even sure that talking about what’s wrong is going to change a thing.”
Bethany’s shoulders sagged. “So what turned things around for you? Do you remember what made you start working with the therapist?”
Setting her drink down, Erin waited for her answer, maybe as curious as Bethany.
She’d never entered counseling even though Mack had taken her aside once and told her it had helped him resolve a lot of issues he’d had with their mother.
Mack had thought all of his siblings should check in with a professional since bipolar disorder ran in families.
But Erin never had. Maybe part of her was scared of what she could find out.
And if she did learn that she had some of the same tendencies as her mother, what would she do about it?
She had always feared that—since talking about their childhood wouldn’t change it—no amount of therapy would really fix the broken parts of her.