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“Reese?”
She stopped and looked over her shoulder. It felt as if she were looking at him for the very last time and wanted to memorize every detail. Then, without a word, she turned and walked out the door.
Trent set the pitcher and the glasses on the table. “Where’s she going?”
“She said she had to take care of something,” Annabelle answered.
More like get away from me. Had he read her wrong last night? Had there been a spark of connection between them like he’d thought? Or was she completely and utterly over him? And was it better if she was, since he’d hurt her so badly the first time around?
Trent had to know for sure.
He ran out the door and into the brisk evening air, catching up to her as she hurried across the parking lot. He reached for her hand to stop her from leaving.
“Reese, please wait.”
When she turned, there was no denying the conflicting emotions in her eyes, or the quick squeeze of her fingers around his, as if for a fleeting second she didn’t want to let him go.
But then she dropped her eyes to their hands, gently moved hers away, and said, “What do you need, Trent?”
You, he thought. But he said instead, “I’m sorry for everything that happened between us. I know I hurt you deeply, and…” He paused to try to wrap his mind around his thoughts, but his emotions were so close to the surface that he was afraid telling her he was still in love with her would only push her farther away. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “For everything. Please stay?”
She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. “I can’t,” she finally said, so softly he almost didn’t hear her. The sadness that filled her eyes nearly tore his heart from his chest. “Me and you…the divorced couple trying to act normal while making everyone else feel uncomfortable. I can’t even begin to process what’s going on between us. So how can we expect our friends and your family to deal with it?”
Trent stepped in closer again, wanting to touch her, but resisting the urge for fear she’d pull away again.
“It doesn’t have to be uncomfortable. We’ve bumped into each other before,” he reminded her, even though the truth was that they’d only ever seen each other briefly across a parking lot or in a grocery store.
“It’s different now.” She took a step back, and the confirmation that she needed space between them stung.
“You mean because I’m living here?”
She nodded, the difficulty of whatever she was about to say written in her wrinkled brow and the rising of her shoulders. “I’m trying to get used to the idea that we’ll be seeing each other a lot more now that you’re back. It’s a lot to take in, don’t you think?”
“Couldn’t that be a good thing?” Please tell me it is.
“I don’t know. That’s something I’m still trying to figure out. And I’m going to need some space to do that.” She paused long enough for the words to settle in before saying, “Good night, Trent; have fun with everyone tonight,” and walking to her car.
He fought the urge to go after her, because even though he wanted to beg her to stay and talk things through, he’d already hurt her once. Regardless of whether there was hope for something more between them again or not, he still wanted to apologize for all the pain he’d caused her. But right now he didn’t need to push her or make her relive the past.
Giving her space was the least he could do, but hell if it didn’t feel like he was losing her all over again—before he even had a chance to make things right.
Chapter Six
REESE HAD BEEN teaching painting classes at Bay’s Edge Assisted Living Facility since shortly after returning from New York. What had begun as a way to keep herself distracted from thoughts of her failed marriage had turned into one of the things Reese most looked forward to. She’d thought that teaching the elderly to paint might brighten their days with something new and exciting to look forward to, while offering a sense of creativity and accomplishment. But what she’d found was comfort of her own. She’d met a host of insightful, caring friends who’d embraced her and helped her through some of her toughest moments.
As she walked through the front door juggling a box of paints and a bag of paintbrushes, she thought of her students—friends—who had passed away over the years. The ache of every loss hit her hard. And then a new, bright face would take the empty seat in her class, and a new relationship would develop.
That cycle of loss and moving forward had helped Reese move on after her divorce. At least she’d thought she’d moved on.
