Cape Cod Promises: Love on Rockwell Island (18 page)

Reese could hardly believe her conservative mother had used the word
lust
.

“Now, honey. Don’t look at me like I just dropped the F-bomb. I’m a woman. I know all about lust.”

“I’m not sure I want to talk about this with you.” Reese was only half teasing. “I like thinking about you as my proper mother who doesn’t think about
that
.”

“Well, that would make me rather boring, wouldn’t it?” Her mother smiled.

“Not that I don’t appreciate you being willing to share your thoughts on…
that...
but there is something else I wanted to ask you about. You and Dad have a perfect marriage. You’re always together, and he’s always put our family ahead of work and everything else in his life. How did you get to that point?”

“We do have a rather ideal marriage, but it’s still a give-and-take. Trust me, we’ve had our moments. It wasn’t always easy for your father to put us first. He missed out on a few promotions, but family was always important to him. To both of us.” She paused before admitting, “I might have enjoyed a little more zest and spontaneity. A few unscheduled dinners and impromptu date nights. Marriages should have a little wiggle room, not be so structured. Enjoy the moments as they come.”

“Wiggle room,” Reese repeated, chewing on the thought.

“For my generation, dinner on the table and reading the newspaper together was what we were brought up with. But your generation is different. More lively. Dinners out are more commonplace. So is getting together with friends, going on outings and changing your destination midway. Those are all wonderful things. I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve done that. We’ve lived our lives on trolley car tracks and it’s mostly been wonderful. But for you? I think you should allow wiggle room. And not just on the day-to-day things. Because no matter how much you want to get things perfect this second time around, you’re probably not always going to get things exactly right. A little wiggle room to make mistakes and then fix them would probably help take the pressure off of both of you.”

“Thank you, Mom. For everything.”

As Reese left and headed for the resort where she was planning to work on the mural for a few hours today, she found herself continuing to think about what her mother had said. Everything Reese and Trent had done together as a couple was spontaneous—except when it came to their marriage. Had she expected too much, too regimented of a life together, with set expectations of when he’d arrive home from work and how their life would play out? And wasn’t her mother right that now she was so scared of things going wrong again that she was expecting perfection out of both her and Trent?

Wiggle room
. Definitely something worth considering.

TRENT SAT AT a table at the Hideaway with Derek, who had just spent the last ten minutes griping about trying to run his masonry and building business in Boston from the island. When his brother pushed his sleeves up, Trent noticed a bandage by his elbow.

“What did you do this time?” Derek was an adrenaline junkie. The bigger the risk, the more gratifying the thrill. Cuts and bruises came with the territory.

“I had a run-in with a rock when I was hang gliding. But it was nothing. Only seven stitches.”

“Did you have Didi stitch it up?” Trent cocked a brow. “She’s a hell of a lot better with a needle than the doctor at the local clinic,” Derek replied, before saying, “So…you and Reese? You’re a thing again?”

Trent had been planning to tell his brother—and the rest of his family—today. But he had a guess who had already planted the seed in his brother’s head.

“I take it Sierra mentioned our conversation?” The one where he’d told his sister he wanted Reese back more than he wanted anything else in the entire world.

“Who else?”

Trent laughed, knowing that the only reason his sister had talked to Derek about Trent and Reese was because she was full of hope that the two of them could make things work the second time around. In fact, Sierra was fairly
bursting
with that hope.

She’d so loved having Reese as a sister-in-law. Clearly, she was ready for them to be sisters again. One day, when his sister finally fell in love, he sure hoped it went smoother for her than it had for him or Quinn. And the guy she fell for better treat her like a princess, or Trent and his brothers would tear the guy apart with their bare hands.

“Yes, we’re a couple again.” And if he didn’t screw anything up this time around, he prayed things would stay that way. He’d been thinking about Reese all day, and the hours couldn’t pass quickly enough until he’d see her again at dinner and find out how her talk with her parents had gone. She’d sent him a text message with no words, just a heart. He’d texted back, but he hadn’t heard from her again, so he knew she had to be immersed in painting.

“I’m really happy for you, Trent. You two were always good together. Plus,” he added with a grin, “it’s better you heading to the altar than me.”

“The altar?”

“Sierra and Shelley are so excited about you and Reese that they’re practically planning your wedding.”

Sierra and Shelley aren’t the only ones
, Trent thought, even though he knew he shouldn’t be letting himself race ahead that fast. Reese was right—they needed to work on building a really strong foundation first.

“Right now,” he admitted to his brother, “we’re just taking it one day at a time and trying to get things right this time around. But if I have it my way, we’ll definitely be moving in the wedding bells direction.”

Derek shook his head. “What is it with you and Quinn? Is being married really that great?”

It could have been. If only I hadn’t blown it.

But Trent simply eyed Derek’s bandage. A few weeks ago he’d gotten a cut on his shoulder and he’d had Didi stitch it up for him, and before that it was his forearm, which Didi had also stitched up. Now Trent couldn’t resist saying, “I’m sure Didi is as good with a needle as you say she is. But is that the real reason you’re constantly knocking on her door?”

Derek scoffed. “I told you before, I don’t have a death wish. Which means Didi’s off-limits.”

Trent’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, hoping it was Reese, and was both disappointed and annoyed when his grandfather’s number appeared on his screen.

“Speak of the devil.” He mouthed
Chandler
to Derek, then answered the phone. “Hello.”

“Hello, Trent. I’m sorry to bother you on the weekend, but your grandfather has asked that you meet him in his office as soon as possible.” Chandler’s secretary, Darla, sounded very apologetic.

Respect for his elders was so ingrained in Trent that he felt pressure to accept his grandfather’s summons, regardless of the fact that he and his brother weren’t done with lunch yet. “Okay. I’m over at Sierra’s restaurant. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Chandler beckons...” Trent pushed away from the table.

“So what? He’s out of the business, Trent. It’s in our hands now. He doesn’t own you. You don’t have to jump up and run over there.”

“No, but he is our grandfather,” Trent reminded him.

“I’m pretty sure that means more to you than it does to him.”

Trent didn’t want to get into an argument with his brother, so he ignored that comment as he threw a handful of bills on the table. “Will I see you at Shelley’s later to finish up those shelves?”

Derek looked out the window at the blue sky. “It’s a good day to go windsurfing. But I’ll head over afterward.”

“Try not to get any more injuries,” Trent teased as he headed for the door. “Or maybe you should, since at least then you’d have an excuse to go see Didi again.” He hightailed it out of there before Derek could throw his beer mug at him.

At least there was one bright spot to being pulled away from lunch and called to the resort—the brightest, most beautiful woman in the world, who was looking cute as hell with colorful streaks of paint on her arms and clothing as she worked on the mural.

Trent always loved watching Reese paint and seeing just how intimate a process it was for her. Last night when he’d come into her studio, she’d been assessing her work, deep in thought. But now, as her lean arms dragged the paintbrush over the wall with long, smooth arcs over her head, then faster, shorter strokes, before transitioning into longer, slower strokes again, it was as if she wasn’t even thinking. She called it being in
the zone
. Which was exactly how he felt whenever they were together. Like nothing else existed in the world but her...and every move was meant to be.

Trent admired her for a few minutes, debating going inside without interrupting her, but he couldn’t stay away.

He walked down the sidewalk toward her, but Reese must have been concentrating too deeply to notice. She didn’t turn to greet him, or give any indication that she sensed him near. That didn’t surprise him, but what
did
surprise him was that it stung a little—and that made him realize what she must have felt like while they were in New York, when he could barely see past his work.

He took a step closer, afraid to startle her for fear of ruining her beautiful painting. “Hi, gorgeous,” he said softly.

She glanced over her shoulder—her paintbrush still moving—and smiled. “Hi! I didn’t expect to see you this afternoon.”

“Chandler asked me to drop by his office.” He leaned forward and kissed her. “I don’t want to interrupt. I just wanted to give you another kiss, and also to find out how your parents reacted when you told them we’re together again.” He brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “I hope it went okay.”

“It went great. My dad wasn’t able to be there, but my mom had some really interesting stuff to say. Some of it ended up being about lust, which was...” She made a face, and he laughed. “But she also had so many amazing insights about making love last.”

“I’d love to hear what she had to say.” Her parents had a great marriage, just like his did. It was too bad neither he nor Reese had asked their parents for advice the first time around. Perhaps that was part of what came with being older and wiser. And having less pride...

“I’m still processing it all, but one thing she said that really resonated was how we shouldn’t put pressure on each other to be totally perfect or to live on a rigid schedule. That there has to be room to make changes and adapt to each other’s moods and desires and to allow for mistakes and then recover from them. The past few hours, I’ve been thinking about how right she is. Real life might not always be perfect, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be
amazing.
”

The last thing he wanted was to screw things up with her again, but had part of his problem been that he set the bar so high for himself that true happiness always felt just out of reach? “Everything your mom said sounds right on the money. It makes me think we should have talked more with our parents before, asked for their advice.”

“At least we’re asking them to share their wisdom now.” She went onto her tippy-toes and gave him a kiss. “I’m so glad you stopped by.”

“I am, too. I didn’t want to throw you off your groove, though.”

“It’s exactly the opposite, Trent. Every moment with you is helping me get
into
my groove. I’m knee-deep in the mural and
loving
every second of it. I really need to thank your family for giving me this project.”

“You’ll have a chance at Shelley’s grand opening, if you’ll come with me.”

“Do you think they’ll be ready to see you and me together again?”

“Sierra and Shelley sure are,” he told her with a grin, though he left off the
wedding bells
part for now. “And Derek told me at lunch that he’s really happy for us and thought we were always great together. But the question isn’t whether they’re ready.”

She trapped her lower lip in her teeth and nodded. “I know it isn’t about them. It’s about us. I’m scared,” she said softly, “but I don’t want to hide what I feel. Not from our families, not from myself, and especially not from you.”

“We both have our eyes open this time around, and I made you a promise that I’m never going to break.” He kissed her again, lingering at her lips long enough that people walking past them couldn’t help but stop and stare.
And wish they had a love like ours
. “I should get upstairs before Chandler calls again. Are we still on for dinner?”

“Yes,” she said, dipping the brush into the can again. “Meet me at my place?”

“Six?”

“Perfect.”

* * *

AS TRENT WALKED inside the resort, he worked to prepare himself for the transition from bright and sunny Reese to his dark and stormy grandfather. He exited the elevators on his grandfather’s floor, cleared his throat, and pulled his shoulders back, slipping into professional mode. As a lawyer, he’d had to do this mental shift at least a thousand times. But it was a much harder transition after seeing Reese, with thoughts of her smile fresh on his mind...and her kiss still tingling on his lips.

Chandler’s assistant, Darla, was relatively new, having been hired after she’d moved to the island from North Carolina following a nasty divorce. She was in her late twenties, with a two-year-old son, and from what Trent had heard, she was living with her aunt and uncle, having lost both of her parents a few years earlier.

She looked slightly uneasy as he approached. “Sorry about this, Trent. I know you try to take the weekends off, but he didn’t want to wait until Monday.”

“No problem, Darla.” But as the words left his lips, he realized that it actually
was
a problem. What if he’d been with Reese when the phone call had come? Would he have raced off to meet Chandler? Heck, he should be out there with her right now, keeping her company while she painted, enjoying watching her work on something she was so passionate about.

“Trent.” Chandler’s deep voice greeted him. “Have a seat.” Wearing a white shirt and striped tie, with his frail shoulders pulled up high beneath his ears, Chandler was dressed as he was every day of the week.

Trent wondered if there was ever a time of day when he let his guard down, and it made him sad to think that his grandfather was always this uptight, or miserable.