23. Chapter 23
Cate
March - Ten Years Ago
Isat in my car with the heat blasting, hands locked around the steering wheel, trying to summon the energy to open the door.
Snow came down in thick, angry sheets, the kind that erased edges and swallowed sound. The parking lot was nearly empty, wind carving pale lines across the pavement.
Whatever had possessed me to keep a wedding dress appointment in the middle of a blizzard was beyond me. I wasn’t even sure the shop would be open.
I shut off the engine and pulled my hood tight around my face. The cold hit me like a slap the second I stepped outside, stealing my breath as I hurried toward the building.
The door didn’t move.
I frowned and pulled harder. Still nothing.
Then I turned and nearly lost my footing.
“Cate.”
Trevor was right there. Close enough that I hadn’t heard him approach. His hand shot out, gripping my arm to steady me.
“Shit…” I sucked in a breath. “Trevor. You scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I glanced around the lot, suddenly aware of how empty it was. Just two cars. Mine… and a small black sports car tucked near the edge.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He straightened his tie beneath his coat, a nervous habit I’d seen before. “I was hoping to talk to you.”
“Here?” I gestured helplessly at the snow. “Now?”
“Can we go somewhere warm?” he asked. “Just for a minute.”
I hesitated, looking back at the locked door, then at the storm pressing in around us.
“Okay,” I said finally. “Yeah, sure.”
He smiled, relieved, and gently linked his arm through mine, steering me toward his car. The contact felt familiar. Safe. Or at least it had always felt that way before.
Inside, the heat fogged the windows almost instantly.
Trevor drove carefully, hands tight on the wheel, the snow swallowing the road ahead of us. He didn’t say anything until we pulled off at the next exit and into another nearly deserted lot.
“Where are we?” I asked.
He smiled. “Thought you could use something warm.”
The coffee shop was small and bright, the smell of espresso heavy in the air. Trevor ordered for both of us without asking.
“Two tall vanilla lattes,” he told the barista, then glanced back at me. “I’ve got it.”
I slid into a booth near the door, keeping my coat on. I wasn’t planning to get comfortable. This was a detour, nothing more.
He joined me a moment later, setting the cup in front of me like an offering.
He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the back of the chair, settling in like this was exactly where he’d planned to be.
I didn’t take mine off.
I wrapped my hands around the cup, letting the heat seep into my fingers. “So,” I said, keeping my voice light, “What did you want to talk about?”
He smiled faintly, like I’d rushed something. “You always get right to the point.”
I returned the smile, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I do have an appointment.”
He hesitated, gaze drifting to the window, the snow pressing against the glass.
“It’s about John,” he said.
Just like that, the air changed.
“What about him?”
“You’ve only been together a year,” he said carefully. “Don’t you think getting married that fast is… risky?”
The word scraped.
“I don’t,” I said.
He reached across the table, covering my hand with his. “I like you, Cate.”
I laughed softly, more surprised than amused. “You like me?”
His expression shifted, something tight and frustrated slipping through. “He’s not right for you.”
My stomach dropped.
“He’s impulsive,” Trevor continued, voice gaining momentum. “He doesn’t think long-term. I could give you stability. I could take care of you. You wouldn’t have to worry about money or work or…”
I pulled my hand back.
“You’re serious,” I said.
He took a slow sip of his drink before looking back at me.
“How many chances do people really get?” he asked quietly.
I frowned. “What?”
“To love someone,” he said. “To really know if it could be something.”
My stomach tightened. “Excuse me?”
He shook his head like I was missing the point. “I just mean… you’ve been with John for a year. That’s not that long. And you and I…” He hesitated. “I’ve been waiting.”
I stood abruptly, fingers already fumbling with my coat. “Trevor, no.”
His expression flickered, hurt first, then something sharper beneath it. “You’re making a mistake.”
“I care about you,” I said carefully. “But not like that. I’m with John. I’m marrying John. That isn’t changing.”
I turned toward the door.
“Cate… wait,” he said quickly, rising. “At least let me drive you back.”
I paused, snow swirling beyond the glass.
“I’ll manage,” I said.
And for the first time, I realized how badly I wanted to leave.