Return to Me (Blue Harbor Book 5) by Olivia Miles (most popular ebook readers .TXT) 📕

And now, she had her own place, here in their town. She had her own furniture, limited as it may be, and photos in frames of events he wasn’t part of, and a fridge full of food that was only for her. She’d an entire new life for herself.

While he’d stayed behind, letting the years pass, clinging to the past. Maybe too much of the past.

He couldn’t deny the irony of it. It was exactly what she’d accused him of doing, after all. Not changing. Not thinking of the future. Was it so bad that he liked things just as they were and had always been?

Given that she’d left him, he supposed it was.

“Something to drink?” Brooke was looking at him expectantly, and he forced his attention back to the present. “Afraid I don’t buy beer, but I have wine. Family blend, of course.”

“Of course.” His smile felt tight. “I’ll take a glass. Don’t worry. I promise your shelves won’t come out crooked.”

“You can handle your own,” she said wryly. “Besides, you’re a better carpenter than Gus and Cole combined.”

He knew that she wasn’t just flattering him, and the compliment was one he didn’t quite know how to take. Once, working with his hands, sanding and chiseling until he had created something he could be proud of was part of his daily life. It had been a long time since anyone asked about his woodwork. Most people in town probably forgot about it by now, even his mother barely mentioned it, probably because she suspected it was a sore spot for him, much the way she never mentioned Brooke either.

But then, Brooke hadn’t witnessed the lapse of time these past years. She just remembered where they left off. Back when he was still dreaming big, sketching designs. Married to her in every meaning of the word.

Looking around the room, he supposed he could say he was guilty of the same. He wanted Brooke to be that girl so full of ideas and hope and excitement for life. So full of love for him. But time had gone by, slowly at first, and then steadily, and yesterday was a very long time ago.

Instead, he saw someone who was a little more withdrawn, a little more uptight, and a little less happy.

He frowned when he considered his part in all of that.

Brooke opened a cabinet and pulled out two wine glasses, then a drawer to retrieve a corkscrew. It was amazing that something so innocent could feel like a stab to his chest.

This was her world. And he had no place in it.

There was no table, two mismatched sofas, and a coffee table made of glass. It suddenly felt awkward to be here, in her space, a guest in his wife’s house, forcing something that was done and over with years ago, even though that’s what he’d been trying to do these last few days. But it was different when they were on neutral territory.

He was relieved when Brooke tipped her chin toward the hallway. “I have a balcony out back. It’s covered, so we shouldn’t get too wet. I’ve been cooped up all day,” she added, in case further explanation was needed.

It wasn’t.

“That sounds great,” he said, grabbing the pizza in one hand and the bottle of wine in the other.

Soon, they were seated at a small wrought-iron table that Brooke explained had come with the apartment.

“Nice perk,” he said gamely. It was better being outside, away from all of her new things, even though some, or most, weren’t very new at all, just new to him.

Brooke bit into a slice of pizza. He was happy to see that New York hadn’t rubbed off on her too much. No folding of the crust was taking place. She was still eating it straight-on, like the Midwestern girl he knew.

And loved.

He swallowed hard, thinking of how familiar this was, even when it was strange at the same time. He didn’t know where she kept her corkscrew or what cabinet held her glasses. He didn’t know how she’d spent every day and night of the past six years, or what her New York apartment had looked like. But he knew her past. He knew her story. And he knew her heart.

Or at least he had. Once.

He tore his gaze from her profile. Grabbed a slice and took a big bite. Drowned his sorrows with a big gulp of wine after that, even if he did prefer beer.

“This is a nice apartment,” he said.

“It’s convenient, but it doesn’t feel like home yet.” She eyed him. “How about you…Are you still…”

“I’m still at the cottage.”

A look of mild surprise took over her face, but she composed herself quickly. “I keep meaning to personalize the apartment more, but the business is taking up a lot of my time.”

“So you think you’ll stay then?”

“In the apartment?” She gave him a smile that seemed almost apologetic. “It needs some more furniture, but that’s the plan.”

“You always liked a plan,” he said, and even though he meant it with nostalgia, there was an edge of resentment to his tone that he was sure she had noticed.

“It’s easier for me to plan than float along. Life passes by otherwise. I didn’t want it to pass me by.”

“Oh, now, I don’t think that would have ever happened.” He gave her a resigned smile that she met in return. “But you don’t miss New York yet?”

He still couldn’t believe it. Brooke, who couldn’t wait to get out of Blue Harbor and make a name for herself, had come back to their small town only years later. Maybe the part he couldn’t accept was that she hadn’t come back for him.

Brooke sighed heavily and filled her glass with wine. “It was great, don’t get me wrong,” she