No Good For Anyone (13 page)

It was better that way. And now that the fence was done, there would be even less risk of having a chance encounter.

***

Lindsay watched as Chace finished the last post of the fence, then gathered up his tools and walked back to his house. Every morning for the past week he’d been out there, working. And every morning, she’d sit here with her tea, telling herself she was working on her book, when really, she was watching him.

She’d study his movements, mesmerized by the rhythm of what he was doing.

She watched his body language for any signs of what he was feeling, but of course there were none. It was silly to think there would be. You couldn’t tell what was going on in a person’s head just by what they looked like as they built a fence.

Well, she thought as he disappeared into his house, that was it. He was done with the fence. He wouldn’t be back again tomorrow morning. It was better that way. She was starting to feel like a stalker, the way she was sitting here every day, watching him without him knowing.

The fence was a symbol. He’d built it around his house, and around his heart. It was a real boundary that she knew couldn’t be broken.

She allowed herself one last moment of sadness, one last squeeze of her heart.

And then she started typing. She had a book to write, a house to fix up, and a life to live.

One that didn’t include Chace Davenport.

C
hapter
E
leven

Early autumn turned into late autumn, late autumn turned into early winter, and Chace found a new bar. He hadn’t talked to Bo since their altercation a couple of months ago, and so he didn’t feel comfortable going into The Gristmill. It was just as well – the new bar was a bit of a drive, but no one knew him there, and it was busier. Which meant there were more women to choose from.

He’d order a Coke and a burger and shoot the shit with some of the regulars while he watched the Celtics. Some nights, he’d bring a girl home. Other nights, he’d go home alone.

He’d done his best to push Lindsay out of his mind, to forget about her and how she’d told him what happened to his father wasn’t his fault.

He fell into a routine -- coming home late at night from the bar, getting up at seven to take Max on his walk before heading to the Trib. He always kept his head down, always avoided looking at her house. He was dimly aware of the fact that she’d been getting work done over there – he couldn’t help but notice the steady stream of contractors and handymen that seemed to always be parked in her driveway.

But he hadn’t seen her.

Until one night in early December, right after Thanksgiving. He was coming home from the bar, alone. There’d been a blonde girl who had made her intentions quite clear, but Chace hadn’t bitten. It was starting to feel like too much effort, and for what?

A few moments of pleasure, followed by an aching loneliness that was getting harder and harder to ignore?

Because it
had
been getting harder and harder to ignore. He missed Bo. He missed his father. Most of all, he missed Lindsay. Missed talking to her, they way they used to, a year and a half ago. Missed what it had been like to kiss her, to take care of her

-- hell, just to
see
her.

He’d been thinking about this as he navigated his truck down the slushy roads.

The first snow had come a few days ago, a couple of inches that had looked pretty when it fell, but had quickly dissolved into a dirty, gritty sludge.

He pulled into his driveway and when he got out, his boots sloshing through the snow, he heard it.

A high-pitched shriek, coming from the other side of the fence.

He turned, listening. Had he imagined it?

But then it came again.

He looked over toward Lindsay’s house for the first time in months.

She was laying in the driveway, sprawled out on in the slush. Grocery bags and groceries dotted the driveway.

“Shit,” he heard her say as she started gathering everything up.

It was pure instinct. He ran over there.

“Are you okay?’ he asked. Anxiety overtook him. He remembered the day she hurt her wrist, how helpless he’d felt seeing her lying there. This was somehow worse.

This time, he really had no right to be helping her, to be inquiring about whether or not she was okay.

“I’m fine,” she said, sounding grumpy. “I was just trying to take in too many groceries at once.”

“Jesus, Lindsay,” he said. “Don’t scare me like that. I thought you’d been out here for hours.”

She snorted and then turned her back on him. Not that he could blame her.

He reached into her trunk and pulled out the last bag of groceries. “Let me help you,” he said.

“No, thanks. I got it.”

She grabbed the bag out of his hand, and he felt shocked at the wave of emotion that overtook him. In that small gesture, that small moment, he realized he would never be able to protect her again. He’d lost that right.

If she’d really fallen and hurt herself…his chest constricted at the thought. What would he have done? He should have been here, protecting her, taking care of her, loving her.

She finished gathering up the bags and started walking carefully up the driveway.

She had her key in the lock before he realized exactly what it was he was feeling.

It was sadness, yes, but for the first time in a long time, there was no anger inside of him. In fact, the only thing overshadowing the sadness was regret. Because he realized the reason he’d lost the right to protect her wasn’t because he was damaged. No, she’d known about that, and she’d wanted him anyway. He hadn’t hurt her by just being in her life – he’d hurt her by acting like an asshole.

His behavior had been inexcusable, and he could have stopped it, could have controlled it.

Her hand was on the doorknob, turning it, stepping inside.

He had to know if there was still a chance.

“Lindsay,” he called.

He held his breath.

He waited.

She stopped.

And then, she turned around.

***

Lindsay looked at him, standing there in her driveway, still wearing that damn leather jacket even though it was twenty degrees out. His breath came in puffs, his face lit only by the light in her front yard.

“What?” she asked.

Her heart was hammering in her chest. She’d spent the last month trying to get over him, was finally at the point where she could think about him without feeling like her soul was being crushed.

Her house was coming along, going from a ramshackle old cape to a cozy home with warm colors and soft furniture. Her writing was going well -- she was on track to meet her deadline, and had just signed a new book deal. She wasn’t going to let him come into her life and screw everything up again.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She didn’t say anything, and he took it as an invitation to come forward. He climbed the steps until he was standing next to her. She stayed on the porch but kept the front door closed. She didn’t want him in her house, didn’t know if she could trust herself once he was in there.

“For what?” she asked. It was a test.

“For everything.”

“Be specific.”

“For blowing you off after we met. I should have called you and told you what happened. I just… I didn’t want to talk about it. It was like I couldn’t say the words out loud. I was terrified of what you’d think of me.”

She felt tears prick against the back of her eyes. She wanted so much to believe what he was saying, wanted it so much that it hurt.

He moved toward her and started to put his arms around her, but she pulled back.

“Don’t.” She shook her head.

“I know I can’t make you forgive me,” he said. “All I can do is spend every moment proving to you that I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

She looked at him. She saw the sadness in his eyes, and he sounded sincere. But still. How many times could she go through this, expecting him to change while getting her heart broken? Then again, he’d never apologized before, had never told her he’d do anything to get her back.

In fact, it had been the opposite. He’d never made her any promises.

“Please,” he said, taking her hands in his. His skin felt warm, his grip strong and protective. “Lindsay, give me a chance.”

If she was wrong, she’d be devastated all over again. It would take only one night, one hour, one moment, to undo all the work she’d done over this past month.

She’d be right back where she started, only this time, it would be worse. But if she didn’t take a chance, then she’d never know. And maybe, just maybe, it would work out.

She opened the door, stepped inside, and turned around. “Do you want to come in?” She held up one of the bags. “I bought stuff for chicken parm.”

“You’re going to make chicken parm?”

“No.” She shook her head. “You are.”

Chace grinned, and then followed her inside.

E
pilogue

The grand re-opening of The Trib was in full swing. New tables in white oak dotted the dining room, the booths had been reupholstered in a soft beige, and the walls had been painted the color of pecans. Candles flickered at every table, and the heavy double doors had been left open, allowing the warm spring breeze to fill the restaurant.

“Everything looks great, man,” Bo said to Chace. “You’ve done an amazing job.”

“Thanks. But it’s not me who did it. Most of it was Lindsay.”

He looked down at her with that smile, the smile she was seeing more and more of these days, and Lindsay couldn’t help but smile back. Butterflies turned in her stomach. She loved that he could still do that to her, even after spending almost every moment together for months.

“Thanks for coming,” she said to Bo, giving him a kiss on the cheek. She loved Bo, was glad he and Chace had worked it out. Chace had apologized, told Bo he’d been out of line, and Bo had forgiven him, no questions asked.

“There’s no cilantro on this, is there?” a woman asked, wandering by. She was wearing a purple hat and a matching light purple pantsuit.

“No,” Chace said, smiling. “There’s no cilantro in that.”

She wandered off.

“Who was that?” Bo asked.

“Don’t ask,” Chace said, shaking his head.

They spent the night talking and chatting with their friends, eating the hors d’oeuvres that the new kitchen staff had prepared. At Lindsay’s urging, Chace had finally taken a good look at the restaurant, and started making the hard decisions it was going to take to make it a success.

He’d fired Carmela, and had a long discussion with Dolores about what he expected of her. The fact that he’d let Carmela go must have sent a message, because Dolores immediately snapped into line. He’d hired two more kitchen staff, chefs from Hyannis whose food was amazing.

Business had already started to pick up.

Lindsay felt Chace’s arm encircle her waist as she looked out among their friends, family, and community. Everyone seemed happy and relaxed, chatting and eating. Even Lindsay’s mom, usually so high-strung, looked like she was having a good time.

“Attention, everyone,” Chace said, banging his fork against his water glass.

Everyone turned to look. “I want to thank you so much for coming here tonight, for supporting me and The Trib.”

The guests clapped and cheered.

“This last year and a half has been a hard one for me. But I’m learning as I go, mostly about the power of forgiving other people, and the power of forgiving yourself.”

Lindsay knew how hard the words were for him to say, and she squeezed his hand, letting him know she was proud of him.

The crowd was at rapt attention, listening as Chace talked.

“My father always used to say that when people came to your restaurant, you wanted them to feel like they were family. I was never very good at that kind of thing, I’m trying. I’d like to think that if he were here, he’d be proud of me.” His voice caught on the last word, but there was a smile on his face.

The crowd clapped again, and Bo yelled from the back, “We love you, Chace!”

Everyone laughed.

“The other thing that’s happened to me this past year is that I’ve found the love of my life.” He looked down at Lindsay, and she melted as his eyes met hers. She thought about that day he’d found her in her driveway in the dead of winter, her groceries spilled around her. She thought about that split second decision she’d made to let him in, thought about how close she’d come to saying no.

It was crazy, when you thought about it, how differently things could have turned out. But that was what life was – just a bunch of split second decisions that slowly added up to create a life.

“Lindsay, I feel as if, in some ways, you taught me what it was like to be happy again.”

Everyone awwwed.

“And that’s why,” he said, kneeling down on one knee. “I’d like to ask you right here, right now, to give me the honor of spending every moment making you as happy as you’ve made me.”

Lindsay’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked down at this wonderful man, kneeling in front of her.

He pulled a small box out of his suit pocket, then turned to the crowd. “Bo was holding this all night,” he explained. “I didn’t want to lose it.”

He opened the box, and Lindsay gasped. The ring was beautiful, a gorgeous square cut solitaire with a white gold band. But it wasn’t just the ring that made her choke up. It was everything. Being here, with her family and her friends, and the man she loved.

“Lindsay,” Chace said, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she said. She was crying now, tears streaming down her face. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.

She was dimly aware of everyone clapping in the background, and her mother saying, “Oh, thank God.” But then it all faded away, and it was just her and Chace.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“I’m crying because I’m happy,” she said. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much, too.” He kissed her tears away, then smoothed her hair back, the way he’d done a million times before.

“Everyone’s staring at us,” he whispered. “It’s kind of weird.”