Mayday (25 page)

No water, but beauty nevertheless. His parents didn't recognize it, but he did.

The same way he'd always loved Niceville—the people, the architecture, the history—in a way they never had.

Funny how he couldn't remember any fantasies of his future that weren't tied to his parents and what they'd wanted. What they'd lost. What would make them proud.

He'd fought to see the larger world, first through his swimming and now through his burgeoning political career. Here at last was a small corner of that world, along the Chesapeake Bay in Virginia. His if he wanted it. But would it make him happy? Would it silence the voice in his head telling him he didn't deserve peace until he'd scraped and achieved and atoned for something that, in the end, wasn't his fault?

Helen's tearful words returned to him.
Love and happiness and everything you want. You would have deserved all that even if Bea hadn't decided to support you. Even if you'd never been elected mayor. Even if you never stepped foot outside of Niceville again.

He hadn't chosen to be born, to change the course of his parents' lives. And maybe they'd always had more choices than they'd acknowledged. Why hadn't they ever gone back to school? Why hadn't they tried to move somewhere else? Why had their happiness always relied on him and what he accomplished?

The strong smell of salt and fish reached him, carried along by the breeze from the water. That breeze whistled by his ears, making the legs of his suit pants flap. The brisk slap of it against his face cleared his head, even as it made his eyes water.

Did he even have any dreams separate from his parents? Ones entirely his own? And if not, what would those dreams look like?

H
elen woke in her childhood bed, her eyes wet and her head throbbing from dreams of Wes. The sunlight peeking around the edges of her curtain and the little rainbows on her walls didn't offer any comfort. Over the past five days, she'd found that nothing did.

But at least the childish wallpaper was appropriate for her mood this morning. She didn't feel like an adult. She felt like crawling beneath her covers and staying there, hiding from reality like a toddler cowering from a monster beneath her bed.

Thank goodness she didn't have to work today. No need to put up a cheerful front for her patrons and coworkers. And her parents had left for Ocean City yesterday, so she didn't have to pretend for them either.

Not that she'd be able to fool her parents anyway. On Tuesday, when she'd climbed out of a cab in their driveway, they'd immediately known something was wrong. At the first comforting embrace offered by her mother, Helen had broken down in helpless tears. There was no point in hiding her heartbreak from them. No need, either. They didn't judge her. They simply loved her and comforted her as best they could.

During her time together with Wes, she'd often wondered: What kind of man would he have become with parents like hers? Happier? Less driven? With supportive parents, would he have needed her to the same degree?

Stop thinking about him
, she reminded herself.
As far as you're concerned, he's already in Clearport. Start moving on, Murphy
.

She showered and got dressed for the day, doing some mental calculations about her new salary. In a little over three months, she could save enough for a security deposit and the first month's rent on her own apartment. Hopefully, after another year or two, she could save even more for a down payment on a town house or condo.

Much as she loved her parents, she was ready to have her own space again. They couldn't have reacted any better to her heartache. But she wished she'd had the choice whether or not to reveal it to them.

Rubbing her temples in a futile attempt to soothe her aching head, she made her way downstairs. As she did every morning, she poured herself some orange juice and grabbed the local paper from outside the front door. Part of her didn't want to look at the headlines, just in case they mentioned something about Wes or his trip to Clearwater. God knew she didn't need an extra reminder of the man who filled her thoughts every moment.

But the rest of her couldn't resist the possibility of reading his name, hearing about his adventures and his triumphs, and maybe even seeing his face.

Sure enough, there he was. On the front page, smiling as if their breakup hadn't bothered him at all. And even though the absolute last thing on Earth she needed to do was read an article about Wes—much less one that boasted a full-color photo of him in that charcoal-gray suit she loved so much—she couldn't stop herself from setting her glass of juice on the counter and opening the paper.

She could skim the article without crying. Maybe.

The headline: M
AYOR TO
S
TAY IN
N
ICEVILLE
, F
ORM
N
ONPROFIT FOR
U
NDERPRIVILEGED
C
HILDREN
.

“What the fuck?” she whispered.

Her head buzzed as she tried to make sense of what she'd just seen. She collapsed into her usual seat at the kitchen table and read the rest of the article three times before all the letters came into complete focus. Even then, she had to read it again to make sure she'd understood it fully.

It took her a minute to realize her mouth had dropped open. She snapped it shut and stared at the newsprint, willing it to answer the questions that burned in her brain. Why had Wes changed his mind about leaving? Was it for her? If so, would he resent her for making him give up his dream?

And the most important question of all: Did he still want to be with her, after she'd broken up with him and refused to follow him to Clearport?

The doorbell rang, a loud peal that made her jump a little in her chair.
No way
, she thought.
It couldn't be. Probably just the milkman. Despite the fact that we've never, ever had a milkman. And that I've never met one, as far as I know. Do milkmen even exist anymore?

When she opened the door, she didn't see anybody. But when she looked down, she saw something on the doormat. A heart. One made of rose petals—yellow, her favorite color—and rice. At the bottom of the front steps, she also saw a small tree wrapped in streamers. A weeping cherry, unless she missed her guess. The younger cousin of her birthday tree, the one they had transformed into a Maypole only a week ago.

A folded sheet of paper was attached to a branch of the tree. Even from the doorway, she could see her name written in Wes's angular scrawl. She raced down the stairs and grasped the note, her heart racing. His message wasn't written on a thin white sheet of paper torn from a notepad. No, Wes had chosen a heavy piece of cardstock in a luxurious-looking cream color. It felt smooth beneath her shaking fingers as she unfolded it and read the message.

She stifled a hysterical laugh at the postscript, even as she almost fell to her knees in relief and joy. The sweetness of the letter . . . Oh, God. It made her eyes burn with unshed tears. But she drew herself up straight and forced herself to stroll calmly around the side of the house.

Along the way, she reminded herself that everything could still go wrong. If he'd chosen to stay for the wrong reasons—solely for her, rather than for his own sake too—she might still have to walk away from him. She refused to be the reason he didn't follow his dreams. If he still wanted to leave Niceville, she'd urge him to go. Drive him away, if she had to.

When she rounded the corner to the backyard, there he was. Wearing a pair of faded jeans and the same green Henley he'd donned for May Day, he was sitting on the grass next to the ragged stump of her birthday tree. At the sight of her, he visibly took a deep breath. His eyes closed for a split second in what looked like heartfelt relief.

Then he opened those tiger's-eyes, which gleamed with golden streaks in the light of the springtime sun. A wide smile spread across his tanned face, and he tracked her with a possessive, heated gaze as she walked toward him.

She came to a halt just shy of touching distance, her legs trembling beneath her.

“Tell me.” Her voice sounded foreign to her ears. Thin and unnaturally high. “Tell me why you decided to stay here.”

Rising to his feet with one swift motion, he reached for her. She took a step back.

He froze, the smile dying on his face. “Helen?”

“Tell me,” she repeated.

“Okay.” He looked at her with newfound wariness. “Okay. I'll explain.”

Her hands itched to smooth the anxious lines from his face, hold him until he relaxed again. But she made herself remain motionless as she waited for his answer.

“I'll explain,” he said again. “But before I do, I need to apologize. The entire time I've known you, I let my dreams, my needs, become the center of our relationship. I don't think I ever fully realized how important your independence was to you. How much you wanted to stand on your own two feet and support yourself again. For Christ's sake, I didn't even remember the date of your interview for the Community Outreach position. And then, when you chose your dreams over mine and refused to move with me to Clearport . . .”

He sighed. “I didn't understand. I resented it. I was a selfish asshole, baby. And I'm sorry. So sorry. I think I was just so frantic to erase the sense of failure I've had all these years, I couldn't see past my own needs. I couldn't see that your dreams are just as important to you as mine are to me.”

“Is that why you're staying? Because you're choosing my dreams over yours?” She stood very still, knowing that his answer would determine her future. Their future.

Please say no. For the sake of my heart, please say no
.

“I should probably say yes and earn some brownie points, shouldn't I?” He flashed a rueful smile, although those lines on his face didn't disappear. “It wouldn't be the truth, though. Yes, my love for you is a major reason to stay here in Niceville. But I'm doing it for my own sake too. Because for the first time in my life, I know what
I
really want. Not what my parents want for me or what they wanted for themselves.”

Her eyes filled with tears of relief. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

“You,” he answered fervently. “I want you more than my next breath. But I also want to be part of the community where I grew up. I want to make it better in any way I can, even after I'm no longer mayor. I want to plant my roots here even as my work with the nonprofit lets me be part of a larger world. I want to bring that world here to Niceville, with more events like the ones last weekend.”

Conviction filled his gaze. “I don't need to leave Nice County. I can fulfill all my professional dreams here. And I want to do it by your side. Only yours.”

He reached out to her again, and this time she didn't edge away. His hand took hers in a tight grip, holding on to her like a lifeline.

“If you'll forgive me and take me back, I can also fulfill all my personal dreams here.” His free hand rose to cup her cheek with reverent care. “I love you. I love your intelligence, your humor, and your determination. I love how fiercely you care about your community and your friends. I love how hard you work. I love your loyalty. I love all of your appalling stories and the way they injure my face.”

When she laughed, he smiled down at her. “You're my sun, Helen. The source of light and warmth in my life. No matter what I accomplish or how much I fail, I know you'll still love me. And knowing that I earned the love of a woman like you will make me the proudest man on the planet. Please say you still love me. Please say you'll be mine.”

Her body swayed toward him, but she had to make absolutely sure. She had to ask. “You won't miss gallivanting around the mid-Atlantic region, becoming the on-call Mayday mayor for communities in need?”

“No.” His voice was firm. “My dream is to make a difference in a community. To be proud of myself and my work. To love a woman who lights up my life. To make her as happy as she makes me. And the only place I can have all of that is here.”

“What about Clearport? I know they needed help.”

Letting go of her hand, he banded a strong arm around her waist and drew her closer to him. “I had an idea before I left there on Friday. I suggested that the City Council find a mayoral candidate of intelligence and integrity. Someone who knows the city inside and out. Someone who won't hesitate to fight for what she believes and can scare the shit out of you when she so chooses.”

He grinned again. “Someone who'd like to hire me as an occasional consultant. Someone who also agreed I should bring my girlfriend along with me when I visit.”

Her eyes widened. “Of course. Bea.”

“Bea,” he confirmed. “So now she's searching for someone to replace her on the City Council as she runs for mayor.”

The hand on her cheek slid to the nape of her neck, and he tugged her toward him. His eyes had grown heavy-lidded, his breathing more rapid.

She put a hand on his chest, halting his forward momentum. “What about your parents?”

“Really?” He stared at her. “You're really going to bring up my family right when I was about to kiss you?”