Cape Cod Promises Read online

  Leaving had been horrible. Beyond horrible. But the worst part about it wasn't just that she'd felt there was no option left but to leave. No, the very worst part was that instead of saying goodbye in person, she'd left him a note. She'd sobbed the entire time she'd written it, her hands shaking, her stomach roiling.

  Dear Trent,

  I never thought I'd write you a note like this, and I know it's unfair to leave this instead of talking with you in person, but no matter how hard I've tried to say these things to you face-to-face, I always lose my nerve. We've grown so far apart, and I miss us terribly, but I know it would be worse to let things keep going like they have these past six months. You are doing everything you hoped you'd do with your career, and I'm lost here in New York. I'm sorry I couldn't become what you needed, or what you deserve. You don't need me holding you back, which is why I'm going back to the island today. This is the hardest thing I've ever done, but I still know I need to do it. For both of us.

  I'll always love you.

  Reese

  She still cringed to think of how it had all played out. But the truth was that if she'd looked into the eyes of the man she adored, there was no way she would have been able to leave. And then they both would have only grown more and more unhappy together.

  He'd come after her, of course. Trent Rockwell wasn't the type of man who let something he wanted slip through his fingers. But his attempts to get her back had been rationalizations, not remedies. He'd told her why he needed to work late hours and why his career had to be his top priority, without even so much as an offer to try to spend more time with her or to pay more attention to their marriage.

  As a seabird picked up the fish carcass and flew away, she realized that was exactly what she'd done a decade ago. She'd picked up her broken heart and returned home.

  Only now, after having been in Trent's arms again, she knew that no matter how much she tried to fool herself, she had never really left her deep feelings for him behind.

  She was bending to finish packing up her supplies when she spotted a tall, broad figure jogging toward the steep wooden steps that led to the top of the dune. Her pulse quickened, and she knew she was playing with fire. Testing herself. Could she see him again without her heart going crazy?

  As Trent came clearly into view down below the dune, Reese scooted back so he couldn't see her. But even just that quick peek sent a pang of longing through her chest, chased by a world of hurt.

  No, she thought as she made herself look away. She wasn't going to do this to herself. She couldn't do this to herself. Not now. Not after spending two months helping her sister, Sarah, and her wonderful husband, James, care for their adorable new baby. At twenty-nine, Reese was finally ready to move on with her life. And after holding that tiny little boy in her arms, she longed for more.

  She hadn't even realized that she'd been holding herself back. But obviously she had, because when she'd watched Sarah and James together with their new baby, she'd felt all the hopes and dreams she'd packed away ten years ago come rushing back. She was finally ready to fall in love and get married again, and start a family. This time, with a man who wouldn't dream of putting her last on his list.

  But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop herself from peering down again at Trent while he ran up the steep stairs, looking devastatingly handsome--and dangerously threatening to her heart.

  But her future children deserved more than a father who worked twenty-four seven. And she deserved a husband who would be a true partner.

  Reese grabbed her easel and supplies and hurried toward the parking lot. She couldn't--and wouldn't--keep wishing things had gone differently between them.

  It was time to move on. Once and for all.

  *

  DEALING WITH CHANDLER Rockwell was never comfortable. But today, as Trent prepared to walk into his grandfather's office, he struggled not only to steel himself against Chandler's cold nature, but also with the incessant questions and unfamiliar feelings he'd been plagued with since running into Reese last night. It was difficult enough to pull his shoulders back and put on his lawyer face with his grandfather on a normal day, but it was even harder to be strong when his insides felt like they were twisted into knots.

  "You going to stand out in that hall forever?" Chandler grumbled.

  Trent lifted his chin as he walked into Chandler's office. "Good morning, Grandfather."

  His grandfather's dark eyes tracked him as he crossed the room. Chandler's narrow-eyed stare, coupled with the firm press of his lips, gave him an ever-present look of disdain. He was dressed in a blue button-down shirt and silk tie, and his frail hands clung to the arms of the wheelchair, his thick, black brows drawn into an angry slash. Trent wondered how anyone could live in a paradise like Rockwell Island and continually seem disgruntled. But he knew better than to let those questions show on his face--steady eye contact, a professional smile, and a nod always did the trick with his grandfather.

  Trent smiled warmly at Chandler's private nurse, who was standing dutifully beside his wheelchair. "Good morning, Didi."

  "Good morning, Trent." Didi's Mediterranean accent made her answer sound as regal as she looked in a sea-green dress, her long blond hair pinned up in a bun.

  Up until a few months ago, Chandler had gone through nurses like others might go through tissues, but Didi had proved to be as strong-willed as his grandfather. Trent sensed that she'd somehow managed to gain Chandler's respect, as well. Lord knew, she had Trent's respect for being able to put up with the man the way she did without losing her self-respect.

  Chandler nodded toward the leather chair across from his massive desk. "This won't take long."

  Then you should have just called me instead of taking me away from my work to come to your private wing of the resort.

  But Trent knew that wasn't how things worked with his imperious grandfather. Chandler beckoned, and everyone jumped.

  Chandler leaned slightly forward and shifted his eyes to the door as if he expected someone to walk through before saying in a hushed but stern tone, "I need you to track down the deed for the resort."

  "That should be easy enough. I'll go through the files and have it sent up to you shortly."

  Chandler had mandated that Trent and his three brothers give up the businesses they'd spent a decade building to return to the island full-time and run the resort for a year--something they'd all balked at. But Chandler's threat of selling the resort to a large conglomerate that would have fired the loyal staff and left hundreds of island residents without employment was enough to make Trent and his siblings accept the proposition with a few caveats. Trent and his brothers had stood firm in an all-or-nothing stance--include their sister, Sierra, and their father, Griffin, as well, or they all walked away--and Chandler had met their demands. Most importantly, their grandfather had agreed to keep his hands out of all business dealings.

  Which was why Trent wanted to know, "Why do you need the deed?"

  But Chandler simply sat back and waved his hand in the air as if the reason weren't important. "Just bring it to me." He turned to Didi before Trent could ask any further questions. "I'm not feeling well this morning. Please take me back to my room now."

  Trent rose to his feet with a frown. He knew enough about his grandfather's machinations over the years to wonder just what the hell Chandler was playing at now.

  *

  TWO HOURS LATER Trent had gone through most of the files in his office but was no closer to finding the deed than he was when he'd begun looking. After placing a call to the courthouse and learning that the transfer of the deed was never filed after his great-grandfather's death, he had to redirect his search and look for the original transfer paperwork.

  At least he'd been distracted from thinking about Reese for a little while.

  "Knock, knock."

  His younger brother Quinn walked into his office. He had become so relaxed since falling in love with Shelley and moving to the island that he actually l
ooked like a different man. Especially today, his blue eyes shining with curiosity.

  "So?" Quinn sat down on the leather couch and crossed an ankle over his knee. "I hear there was a basket from Reese in Shelley's cafe this morning that wasn't there last night when we left. Want to tell me how it got there?"

  "Not really." Talking about Reese would only make Trent think about her again.

  "So we're going with the basket-elves theory? That's what Shelley thought you might want to do, too."

  "Quinn." Trent ran his hand roughly over his face.

  His brother's teasing expression shifted to concern. "Was it that bad seeing Reese again?"

  "No. It was that good." Trent had been tortured all night long by how good it had been to have Reese back in his arms.

  "I ran the old route to the dunes this morning," he admitted. He hadn't run that route since they'd split up, but after bumping into her last night, it was like his legs had carried him in that direction without any thought.

  "And?"

  "I still can't get her out of my head. I know it's over and she's moved on. I've seen her very briefly on and off over the years, but last night..."

  Trent paused, searching for the right words to describe how blown away he'd been by the intense feelings that had consumed him the second he'd realized it was Reese in his arms--and how awful it had been to realize just how badly she'd wanted to get away from him. She had all but run from him.

  "Last night outside Shelley's cafe, when I realized Reese is even more beautiful, even more talented than she was before, something hit me. Hard."

  "You mean the fact that you're not really over her?"

  Yes.

  The lightning-quick answer inside his brain stunned him silent. Most of all, because he knew it was true.

  "What did you think was going to happen?" Quinn asked after letting Trent stew for a few moments. "You two never really hashed everything out. Don't you think that has to happen at some point, given that the island's too small for you two not to keep being thrown together?"

  Trent knew his brother was right. Ten years ago Trent had explained to Reese that as a burgeoning lawyer he was expected to work long hours and attend the highbrow social events that even he never really cared for. But she hadn't wanted to hear it. She'd told him that she was last on his priority list--not even just second to his job, but seventh or eighth, after his workday, parties, office events, and whatever else might lead to his success. She'd also said she didn't even recognize him anymore. Right before he returned to New York, his mother had said something that still rang in his ears today. When your heart is ready to commit, you'll know. Until then, you just have to do the best you can to move on.

  And moving on was what he thought he'd accomplished. Although, now that he was thinking about it, it had taken him a long time to sign the divorce papers. Even after he'd followed Reese back to the island and she'd made it clear that it was really over, he still hadn't been able to sign the damn things. Mostly because he'd kept thinking, kept hoping, that somehow it would all work out. That they would still work out. His attorney had hounded him for weeks until Trent had finally lost hope and signed them. He still had the bottle of perfume she'd left behind and every love note she'd ever scrawled on napkins and slips of torn paper. Hell, he'd never changed his aftershave because she'd loved it so much. All of that should have clued him in to his inability to really move past Reese. Instead, he'd done what he was best at--he'd tried to work thoughts of her away. But it had never really worked, had it?

  "You're right," Trent said slowly. "We never did hash things out. Not really. Not like we should have."

  His brother was looking at him with concern now as he said, rather apologetically, "I didn't just come to razz you about Reese. We've also scheduled a meeting tomorrow morning at ten to discuss the community project."

  Sierra had come up with the idea of hosting a project at the resort that would represent the close-knit community and the warmth of the island. The last time they'd discussed it, they'd narrowed it down to a couple of front-running ideas, but they hadn't made any firm decisions yet.

  "I'll be there."

  "Good." Quinn looked at all the files and papers strewn around Trent's normally meticulous office. "Although between Reese and whatever mess you're dealing with right now, you look like you could use a break. Shelley's going out with Sierra tonight, so I'm meeting Ethan and Derek for a drink. Want to join us?"

  A drink--or three--was exactly what Trent needed to chase thoughts of Reese out of his head. Otherwise, it was bound to be another long and sleepless night.

  "Absolutely."

  Chapter Three

  REESE WAS STANDING on the widow's walk in front of her easel, her emotions howling and gusting inside her like a brutal storm as she painted, when she heard the glass doors to the loft slide open behind her and Jocelyn's careful footsteps approach. Jocelyn had been there when Reese had fallen head over heels in love with Trent a decade ago. She'd been Reese's maid of honor at their wedding. And then she'd been there to help Reese pick up the pieces of her broken heart after she and Trent had broken up.

  "Reese? Are you okay? You've been up here for hours." Jocelyn was tiny at five one and barely a hundred pounds soaking wet, but she was no wallflower. She could be as tough as a drill sergeant or as sweet as a preschool teacher--all skills Reese had heavily relied on ever since Jocelyn began running her gallery a few years ago.

  Reese clearly heard the testing of the waters in her friend's tone. Are you upset enough to need a hug, or do you need a swift kick in the butt, instead? Reese was so used to pushing away painful thoughts of Trent that she automatically said, "I'm okay, thanks."

  Jocelyn peered over Reese's shoulder at the painting and arched a finely manicured brow. Her auburn hair tumbled over her shoulders as she narrowed her bright hazel eyes. "Actually, it looks like you're still reeling over bumping into Trent."

  "I thought I was totally over him," Reese suddenly blurted out, "and then, after all these years, he knocks me to my knees in five seconds flat. Tell me I'm an idiot."

  "You're an idiot." Jocelyn embraced her in a quick hug. "Of course, you know that if you change your mind about him, I'll be right there saying you're brilliant."

  "Joce..." Reese had been wrestling with her feelings for Trent all day, and the only way to deal with them and keep her sanity was to paint.

  "What? That's what friends are for, isn't it?" Her friend sat on a deck chair, and as she kicked her feet up on the railing, she said, "Don't give me that look. Mae is running the gallery. I'm on a helping-a-friend-in-need break. I'm allowed one a day. It's in my contract."

  "You must have a really great boss," Reese teased as she put her feet up beside Jocelyn's and tried to relax.

  "She's the best. Oh, before I forget, Tami Preston called to remind you that she's showing her artwork at the flea market on the other side of the island the day after tomorrow and you promised to go."

  "I'm glad she called. I've been so distracted that I probably would have forgotten. At least I remembered that I'm heading to Bay's Edge tomorrow." Reese taught painting classes for senior citizens at Bay's Edge Assisted Living Facility.

  "And Sierra called, as well, to let us know that she has a late meeting to go to before she joins us for our girls' night out."

  Every few weeks Reese and Jocelyn enjoyed a girls' night with Sierra Rockwell and her cousin Annabelle, who owned a clothing shop in town. Tonight Reese really needed the girls. Only...things suddenly seemed far more complicated than usual.

  "Do you think it'll be weird between me and Sierra now that Trent's back in town for good?"

  "Sierra has always been careful not to talk too much about her brother," Jocelyn replied. "Why would it be any different just because he's living here now?"

  Reese eyed her painting, as if it held all the answers.

  "Is it because you're worried that she'll see how conflicted you are? You do look a little on edge, but if I didn't know you
so well, I might think it was because of work or any number of things other than Mr. Hot and Delicious's hands on your hips again."

  Reese tipped her head back and closed her eyes against the setting sun with a groan. She'd always worn her emotions on her sleeve, which was one of the things that had made it even harder when Trent had become too entrenched in work to notice. When they were living on the island, he'd noticed practically every breath she'd taken. But in New York, he'd barely noticed her at all.

  And now she had no idea how to gain control of the emotions he'd unearthed with nothing more than a quick touch and a few words. She obviously hadn't been able to paint them away today.

  The only thing she knew for sure was that she was not over Trent Rockwell.

  But at the same time, she definitely couldn't let herself get hurt again. It had been a real test of strength to survive the deep, dark ache of missing him for the first few years after she'd left him. So even if managing her feelings for Trent was going to be the biggest uphill battle of her life, she knew she had to find a way to do it.

  Because she'd never survive losing Trent twice.

  Jocelyn rose to her feet and squeezed Reese's shoulder. "Just remember one thing--if you can't drink it away, cry it away, paint it away, or eat enough ice cream to drown it, it just might be too real to be forgotten. After all, you do still have that lighthouse he gave you ten years ago hanging from your rearview mirror," Jocelyn pointed out before she walked back inside the gallery.

  The lighthouse. He'd given it to her on their third date.

  And as she glanced at the painting she was working on and the two other canvases propped against the railing beside her, she realized she'd painted that lighthouse into every single picture.

  *

  TRENT FOUND HIS parents talking with his brother Derek in his father's office.

  "Am I interrupting?"

  "Never, honey." His mother, Abby, hugged him. "We're just going over our options for hiring a marketing company to handle the resort."