Kitobni o'qish: «For Now and Forever»
Sophie Love
A lifelong fan of the romance genre, Sophie Love is thrilled to release her debut romance series: FOR NOW AND FOREVER (THE INN AT SUNSET HARBOR – BOOK 1). Sophie would love to hear from you, so please visit www.sophieloveauthor.comwww.sophieloveauthor.com to email her, to join the mailing list, to receive free ebooks, to hear the latest news, and to stay in touch!
Copyright © 2016 by Sophie Love. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright kak2s, used under license from Shutterstock.com.
BOOKS BY SOPHIE LOVE
THE INN AT SUNSET HARBOR
FOR NOW AND FOREVER (Book #1)
FOREVER AND FOR ALWAYS (Book #2)
FOREVER, WITH YOU (Book #3)
Chapter One
Emily ran her hands down the black silky material of her dress, smoothing out the creases for what must have been the hundredth time that night.
“You seem nervous,” Ben said. “You’ve barely touched your food.”
Her eyes darted down to the half-eaten chicken on her plate, then back up at Ben, who sat across from her at the beautifully laden dinner table, his face lit by candlelight. For their seven-year anniversary, he’d taken her to the most romantic restaurant in New York.
Of course she was nervous.
Especially since the small Tiffany’s box she’d found hidden in his sock drawer weeks before had not been there when she’d checked that evening. She felt certain that tonight was the night he would finally propose.
The thought made her heart hammer with anticipation.
“I’m just not that hungry,” she replied.
“Oh,” Ben said, looking slightly perturbed. “Does that mean you won’t be wanting any dessert? I’ve had my eye on the salted-butterscotch mousse.”
She most certainly didn’t want dessert, but she had a sudden fear that perhaps Ben had hidden the ring in the mousse. It would be a corny way to propose, but by now, she would take any way at all. To say Ben was afraid of commitment was an understatement. It had taken two years of dating before he’d even been okay with her leaving her toothbrush at his apartment – and four years before he finally decided she could move in.
If she so much as mentioned children, he turned as white as a sheet.
“Please, order the mousse if you want,” she said. “I’ve still got my glass of wine.”
Ben gave a small shrug, then called over the waiter, who swiftly removed his empty plate and her half-eaten chicken.
Ben stretched his hands out and took both of hers in his.
“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” he asked.
“Not yet,” she said, smiling slyly.
He smiled in return. “In that case, you look beautiful.”
Then he reached into his pocket.
Her heart seemed to stop beating. This was it. It was really happening. All those years of anguish, of Buddhist-monk-level patience, were about to finally pay off. She was about to prove her mother wrong, her mother who seemed to revel in telling Emily that she’d never get a man like Ben down the aisle. Not to mention her best friend, Amy, who had recently developed the tendency after one glass of wine too many to start imploring Emily not to waste any more time on Ben because thirty-five definitely wasn’t “too old to find true love.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat as Ben pulled the Tiffany’s box out of his pocket and slid it across the table toward her.
“What’s this?” she managed to say.
“Open it,” he replied with a grin.
He wasn’t bending down on one knee, Emily noted, but that was fine. She didn’t need it to be traditional. She just needed a ring. Any ring would do.
She picked up the box, opened it – then frowned.
“What … the hell…?” she stammered.
She stared at it in shock. It was a one-ounce bottle of perfume.
Ben grinned, as if thrilled with his handiwork.
“I didn’t realize they sold perfume either,” Ben replied. “I thought they just sold overpriced jewelry. Want me to spray you?”
Suddenly unable to contain her emotions, Emily broke down in tears. All her hopes came crashing down around her. She felt like an idiot for even letting herself think he might be proposing tonight.
“Why are you crying?” Ben said, frowning, suddenly aggrieved. “People are looking.”
“I thought…” Emily stammered, dabbing her eyes with the table cloth, “with the restaurant, and it being our anniversary…” She was unable to get her words out.
“Yes,” Ben said, coolly. “It’s our anniversary and I bought you a present. I’m sorry if it wasn’t good enough, but you didn’t get me one at all.”
“I thought you were going to propose!” Emily finally cried, throwing her napkin down on the table.
The hum in the room stopped as people stopped eating and turned and stared at her. She no longer cared.
Ben’s eyes widened with fear. He looked even more scared than he did when she mentioned the possibility of starting a family.
“What do you want to get married for?” he said.
Emily was hit by a moment of clarity. She looked at him as though seeing him for the first time. Ben would never change. He would never commit. Her mother, Amy, they’d both been right. She’d spent years waiting for something that was so obviously never going to happen, and this miniature bottle of perfume had been the straw to break the camel’s back.
“It’s over,” Emily said, breathlessly, her tears suddenly stopped. “It’s really over.”
“Are you drunk?” Ben cried incredulously. “First you want to get married – and now you want to break up?”
“No,” Emily said. “I’m just not blind anymore. This – you, me – it was never right.” She stood up, discarding her napkin in her seat. “I’m moving out,” she said. “I’ll stay at Amy’s tonight, then fetch my things tomorrow.”
“Emily,” Ben said, reaching for her. “Can we please talk about this?”
“Why?” she shot back. “So you can convince me to wait another seven years before we buy our own home? Another decade before we get a joint bank account? Seventeen years before you so much as consider the thought of getting a cat together?”
“Please,” Ben said under his breath, looking at the approaching waiter carrying his dessert. “You’re making a scene.”
Emily knew she was but she didn’t care. She wasn’t about to change her mind.
“There’s nothing left to talk about,” she said. “It’s over. Enjoy your salted-butterscotch mousse!”
And with those final words, she stormed out of the restaurant.
Chapter Two
Emily stared at her keyboard, willing her fingers to move, to do something, anything. Another email popped into her inbox and she looked at it blankly. The sound of the office chatter around her swirled in one ear and out the other. She couldn’t concentrate. She felt like she was in a daze. The complete lack of sleep she’d gotten on Amy’s lumpy couch was hardly helping matters.
She’d been at work a whole hour but hadn’t achieved anything more than to turn on her computer and drink a cup of coffee. Her mind was completely consumed with memories of last night. Ben’s face kept flashing through her head. It made her feel slightly panicked every time she relived the terrible evening.
Her phone began blinking, and she glanced at the screen to see Ben’s name flashing at her for the umpteenth time. He was calling, again. She hadn’t answered a single one of his calls. What could there possibly be to talk about now? He’d had seven years to work out whether he wanted to be with her or not – a last-minute attempt to save things wasn’t going to do anything now.
Her office phone began to ring and she leapt a mile, then grabbed it.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Emily, it’s Stacey from the fifteenth floor. I have it down that you were supposed to attend the meeting this morning and wanted to check in to see why you hadn’t.”
“SHIT!” Emily cried, slamming down the phone. She’d completely forgotten about the meeting.
She leapt up from her desk and ran across the office toward the elevator. Her frantic state seemed to amuse her co-workers, who began whispering like silly children. When she reached the elevator, she slammed her palm against the button.
“Come on, come on, come on!”
It took ages, but at last, the elevator arrived. As the doors slid open, Emily went to rush inside, only to slam straight into someone coming out. As she drew back, winded, she realized the person she’d slammed into was her boss, Izelda.
“I’m so sorry,” Emily stammered.
Izelda looked her up and down. “For what, exactly? Slamming into me, or missing the meeting?”
“Both,” Emily said. “I was on my way there right now. It completely slipped my mind.”
She could feel every eye in the office burning into her back. The last thing she needed right now was a dose of public humiliation, something Izelda took great pleasure in dishing out.
“You have a calendar?” Izelda said coolly, folding her arms.
“Yes.”
“And you know how it works? How to write?”
Behind Emily, she could hear people stifling their laughter. Her first instinct was to wilt like a flower. Being made a fool in front of an audience was her idea of a nightmare. But just like in the restaurant last night, a strange sense of clarity overcame her. Izelda wasn’t some authority figure she had to look up to and bend to the whims of. She was just a bitter woman taking her anger out on anyone she could. And those colleagues whispering behind her back meant nothing.
A sudden wave of realization washed over Emily. Ben wasn’t the only thing she didn’t like about her life. She hated her job, too. These people, this office, Izelda. She’d been stuck here for years, just like she’d been stuck with Ben. And she wasn’t going to put up with it anymore.
“Izelda,” Emily said, addressing her boss by her first name for the first time ever, “I’m going to have to be honest here. I missed the meeting, it slipped my mind. It’s not the worst thing in the world.”
Izelda glowered.
“How dare you!” she snapped. “I’ll have you working at your desk until midnight for the next month until you learn the value of being prompt!”
With those words Izelda brushed by her, bumping Emily’s shoulder, as if to storm off, the matter clearly settled in her eyes.
But it wasn’t settled in Emily’s.
Emily reached out and grabbed Izelda’s shoulder, stopping her.
Izelda turned and grimaced back, brushing Emily’s hand off as if she’d been bitten by a snake.
But Emily did not give ground.
“I didn’t finish,” Emily continued, keeping her voice completely calm. “The worst thing in the world is this place. It’s you. It’s this stupid, petty, soul-destroying job.”
“Excuse me?” Izelda cried, her face turning red with anger.
“You heard me,” Emily replied. “In fact, I’m pretty sure everyone heard me.”
Emily glanced over her shoulder at her colleagues, who stared back, dumbfounded. No one had expected quiet, compliant Emily to snap like this. She recalled Ben’s warning that she was “making a scene” last night. And here she was, making another one. Only this time she was enjoying it.
“You can take your job, Izelda,” Emily added, “and stick it up your ass.”
She could practically hear the gasps from behind her.
She shoved past Izelda into the elevator, then spun on her heel. She hit the ground floor button for what, she realized, with absolute relief, would be the last time in her life, then watched the scene of her stunned colleagues staring at her as the doors slid shut and blocked them out. She let out a huge sigh, feeling freer and lighter than she had ever felt.
*
Emily ran up the steps to her apartment, realizing it wasn’t really her apartment – it never really had been. She’d always felt as if she were living in Ben’s space, that she needed to make herself as small and unobtrusive as possible. She fumbled with her keys, grateful that he was at work and she wouldn’t have to deal with him.
She got inside and looked at it with new eyes. Nothing in here was to her taste. Everything seemed to take on a new meaning; the horrible couch that she and Ben had argued over buying (an argument he won); the stupid coffee table that she wanted to throw out because one of the legs was shorter than the others and it always wobbled (but which Ben was attached to for “sentimental reasons” and so it stayed); the oversized TV that had cost far too much and took up too much space (but which Ben had insisted he needed in order to watch sports because it was the “only thing” that could keep him sane). She grabbed a couple of books from the shelf, noting how her romance novels had been relegated to the shadows of the bottom shelf (Ben was always worried their friends would think him less intellectual if they saw romance novels on the shelf – his preferences were academic texts and philosophers, although he never seemed to read any of them).
She glanced over the photos on the mantel to see if there was anything worth taking, when it struck her how every picture that contained her was with Ben’s family. There they were at his niece’s birthday, at his sister’s wedding. There wasn’t a single picture of her with her mom, the only person in her family, let alone of Ben spending any time with them both. It suddenly struck Emily that she had been a stranger in her own life. She’d been following someone else’s path for years rather than forging her own.
She stormed through the apartment and into the bathroom. Here were the only things that really mattered to her – her nice bath products and makeup. But even that was a problem for Ben. He’d constantly complained about how many products she had, lamenting on them being a waste of money.
“It’s my money to waste!” Emily cried at her reflection in the mirror as she threw all her belongings into a tote bag.
She was aware that she looked like a madwoman, rushing around the bathroom throwing half-empty bottles of shampoo in her bag, but she didn’t care. Her life with Ben had been nothing more than a lie, and she wanted to get out of it as quickly as possible.
She ran into the bedroom next and grabbed her suitcase from under the bed. She filled it quickly with all her clothes and shoes. Once she was done collecting her things, she dragged it all out into the street. Then, as a final symbolic gesture, she went back into the apartment and placed her key on Ben’s “sentimental” coffee table, then left, never to return.
It was only as she stood on the curb that it really hit Emily what she had done. She had made herself jobless and homeless in the space of a few hours. Making herself single had been one thing, but chucking in her entire life was quite another.
Little flutters of panic began to race through her. Her hands trembled as she pulled out her cell and dialed Amy’s number.
“Hey, what’s up?” Amy said.
“I’ve done something crazy,” Emily replied.
“Go on…” Amy urged her.
“I quit my job.”
She heard Amy exhale on the other end of the line.
“Oh thank God,” her friend’s voice came. “I thought you were going to tell me you’d got back with Ben.”
“No, no, quite the opposite. I packed my bags and left. I’m standing in the street like a bag lady.”
Amy began to laugh. “I have the best mental image right now.”
“This isn’t funny!” Emily replied, more panicked than ever. “What am I supposed to do now? I quit my job. I won’t be able to get an apartment without a job!”
“You’ve got to admit it’s a bit funny,” Amy replied, chuckling. “Just bring it all over here,” she added, nonchalantly. “You know you can stay with me until you figure things out.”
But Emily didn’t want to. She’d essentially spent years of her life living in someone else’s space, being made to feel like a lodger in her own home, like Ben was doing her a favor just by having her around. She didn’t want that anymore. She needed to forge her own life, to stand on her own two feet.
“I appreciate the offer,” Emily said, “but I need to do my own thing for a while.”
“I get it,” Amy replied. “So what then? Leave town for a bit? Clear your head?”
That got Emily thinking. Her dad owned a house in Maine. They’d stayed in it during the summer when she was a kid, but it had stayed empty ever since he’d disappeared twenty years ago. It was old, filled with character, and had been gorgeous at one point, in a historic sort of way; it had been more like a sprawling B&B that he didn’t know what to do with than a house.
It was barely in passable shape back then, and Emily knew it wouldn’t be in good shape now, after twenty years left derelict; it also wouldn’t feel the same empty – or now that she wasn’t a kid. Not to mention it was hardly summer. It was February!
And yet the idea of spending a few days just sitting on the porch, looking out at the ocean, in a place that was hers (sort of) seemed suddenly very romantic. Getting out of New York for the weekend would be a good way to clear her head and try to work out what to do next.
“I’ve got to go,” Emily said.
“Wait,” Amy replied. “Tell me where you’re going first!”
Emily took a deep breath.
“I’m going to Maine.”
Chapter Three
Emily had to take several subways to get to the long-term parking lot in Long Island City where her old, abandoned, beat-up car was parked. It had been years since she’d driven the thing, as Ben had always taken lead driver responsibilities in order to show off his precious Lexus, and as she walked through the massive, shadow-filled parking lot, dragging her suitcase behind her, she wondered whether she’d still be able to drive at all. It was another one of those thing she’d let slip over the course of her relationship.
The trip to get only here – to this parking lot on the outskirts of the city – felt endless. As she walked toward her car, her footsteps echoing in the freezing parking lot, she almost felt too tired to go on.
Was she making a mistake? she wondered. Should she turn back?
“There she is.”
Emily turned to see the garage attendant smiling at her beat-up car, as if sympathetically. He reached out and dangled her keys.
The thought of still having an eight-hour drive ahead of her felt overwhelming, impossible. She was already exhausted, physically and emotionally.
“Are you going to take them?” he finally asked.
Emily blinked, not realizing she’d spaced out.
She stood there, knowing this was a pivotal moment somehow. Would she collapse, run back to her old life?
Or would she be strong enough to move on?
Emily finally shook off the dark thoughts and forced herself to be strong. At least for now.
She took the keys and walked triumphantly to her car, trying to show courage and confidence as he walked away, but secretly nervous that it would not even start – and if it did, that she would not even remember how to drive.
She sat in the freezing car, closed her eyes, and turned the ignition. If it started, she told herself, it was a sign. If it was dead, she could turn back.
She hated to admit it to herself, but she secretly hoped it would be dead.
She turned the key.
It started.
*
It came as a great surprise and comfort to Emily that, although a somewhat erratic driver, she still knew the basics of what she was doing. All she had to do was hit the gas and drive.
It was freeing, watching the world fly by, and slowly, she shook off her mood. She even turned on the radio, remembering it.
Radio blaring, windows rolled down, Emily gripped the steering wheel tightly in her hands. In her mind, she looked like a glamorous 1940s siren in a black-and-white film, with the wind tousling her perfectly coiffed hairstyle. In reality, the frigid February air had turned her nose as red as a berry and her hair into a frizzy mess.
She soon left the city, and the farther north she got, the more the roads became lined with evergreens. She gave herself time to admire their beauty as she whooshed past. How easily she’d let herself get caught up in the hustle and bustle of city living. How many years had she really let slide by without stopping to take in the beauty of nature?
Soon, the roads became wider, the number of lanes increasing, and she was on the highway. She revved the engine, pushing her beat-up car faster, feeling alive and enthralled by the speed. All these people in their cars embarking on journeys to elsewhere, and she, Emily, was finally one of them. Excitement pulsed through her as she urged the car onward, increasing her speed as much as she dared.
Her confidence soared as the roads flew by beneath her tires. As she passed through the state border into Connecticut, it really hit home that she was actually leaving. Her job, Ben, she’d finally discarded all that baggage.
The further north she went, the colder it became, and Emily finally had to concede that it was just too cold to have the window open. She buzzed it up and rubbed her hands together, wishing she was wearing something a little more appropriate for the weather. She’d left New York in her uncomfortable work suit, and in another moment of impulsivity, had flung the fitted jacket and stiletto shoes out the window. Now she was just in a thin shirt, and the toes of her bare feet seemed to have turned into frozen blocks of ice. The image of the 1940s movie star shattered in her mind as she glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She looked a state. But she didn’t care. She was free, and that was all that mattered.
Hours passed, and before she knew it, Connecticut was behind her, a distant memory, just a place she’d passed through on her way to a better future. The Massachusetts landscape was more open. Rather than the dark green foliage of evergreens, the trees here had shed their summer leaves and stood like spindly skeletons either side of her, revealing hints of snow and ice on the hard ground beneath them. Above Emily, the sky started to change color, from a clear blue to a muggy gray, reminding her that it was going to be dark by the time she reached Maine.
She drove through Worcester, many of the houses here tall, wood-paneled, and painted in various pastel shades. Emily couldn’t help but wonder about the people who lived here, about their lives and experiences. She was only a few hours from home but already everything seemed alien to her – all the possibilities, all the different places to live and be and visit. How had she spent seven years living just one version of life, continuing the old, familiar routine, repeating the same day over and over, waiting, waiting, waiting for something more. All that time she’d been waiting for Ben to get his act together so she could begin the next chapter of her life. But all along, she’d had the power to be the driving force of her own story.
She found herself driving across a bridge, following Route 290 as it turned into Route 495. Gone were the trees to marvel at, replaced now by steep rock faces. Her stomach began to grumble, reminding her that lunch had come and gone and she’d done nothing about it. She considered stopping at a truck stop but the compulsion to get to Maine was too great. She could eat when she got there.
Hours more passed, and she crossed the state border into New Hampshire. The sky opened out, the roads wide and numerous, the plains stretching out either side of her as far as she could see. Emily couldn’t help but think about how wide the world was, how many people it really contained.
Her sense of optimism carried her all the way past Portsmouth, where airplanes swooped over her, their engines rumbling as they approached the runway for landing. She sped on, past the next town, where frost covered the banks either side of the freeway, then onward through Portland, where the road ran alongside the train tracks. Emily took in every little detail, feeling awestruck by the size of the world.
She sped along the bridge that led out of Portland, wanting desperately to stop the car and take in the sight of the ocean. But the sky was growing darker and she knew she had to press on if she wanted to make it to Sunset Harbor before midnight. It was at least another three-hour drive from here, and the clock on her dashboard was already reading 9 p.m. Her stomach protested again, scolding her for having missed dinner as well as lunch.
Of all the things Emily was looking forward to the most when she arrived at the house, it was sleeping the night through. Fatigue was starting to set in; Amy’s couch hadn’t been particularly comfortable, not to mention the emotional turmoil Emily had been in all night. But waiting for her in the house in Sunset Harbor was the beautiful dark oak, four-poster bed that had been in the master bedroom, the one her parents had shared in happier times. The thought of having the whole thing to herself was compelling.
Despite the sky threatening snow, Emily decided against taking the highway all the way to Sunset Harbor. Her dad had been fond of driving the lesser-used route – a series of bridges spanning the myriad rivers running into the ocean around that part of Maine.
She exited the highway, relieved to at least slow her speed. The roads felt more treacherous, but the scenery was stunning. Emily gazed up at the stars as they blinked over the clear, sparkling water.
She stayed on Route 1 all along the coast, opening her mind to the beauty it had for her. The sky turned from gray to black, the water reflecting its image. It felt like she was driving through space, heading into infinity.
Heading toward the beginning of the rest of her life.
*
Weary from the endless drive, struggling to keep her raw eyes open, she perked up when her headlights finally lit up a sign that told her she was entering Sunset Harbor. Her heart beat quicker in relief and anticipation.
She passed the small airport and drove onto the bridge that would take her onto Mount Desert Island, remembering, with a pang of nostalgia, being in the family car as it raced over this very bridge. She knew it was only ten miles from here to the house, that it would take her no more than twenty minutes to reach her destination. Her heart started to hammer with excitement. Her fatigue and hunger seemed to disappear.
She saw the small wooden sign that welcomed her to Sunset Harbor and smiled to herself. Tall trees lined either side of the road, and Emily felt comforted to know they were the same trees she’d gazed out at as a child as her father drove along this very road.
A few minutes later she drove over a bridge she remembered strolling along as a child on a beautiful autumn evening, with red leaves crunching beneath her feet. The memory was so vivid she could even picture the purple woolen mittens she’d been wearing as she held hands with her father. She couldn’t have been more than five at the time but the memory struck her as clearly as if it were yesterday.
More memories made their way into her mind as she passed other features – the restaurant that served awesome pancakes, the campground that would be filled with Scout groups all summer long, the single-track path that led down to Salisbury Cove. When she reached the sign for Acadia National Park she smiled, knowing she was just two miles from her final destination. It looked as though she was going to reach the house in the nick of time; snow was just starting to fall and her beat-up car probably didn’t have it in it to get through a blizzard.
As if on cue, her car started emitting a strange grinding noise from somewhere beneath the hood. Emily bit her lip with anguish. Ben had always been the practical one, the tinkerer in the relationship. Her mechanical skills were woeful. She prayed the car would hold out for the last mile.
But the grinding noise got worse, and was soon accompanied by a strange whirr, then an irritating click, and finally a wheeze. Emily slammed her fists against the steering wheel and cursed under her breath. The snow began falling faster and thicker and her car started to complain even more, before it spluttered and finally ground to a halt.
Listening to the hiss of the dead engine, Emily sat there helplessly, trying to work out what to do. The clock told her it was midnight. There was no other traffic, no one out at this time of night. It was deathly quiet and, without her headlights to provide light, spectacularly dark; there were no street lamps on this road and clouds hid the stars and moon. It felt eerie, and Emily thought it was the perfect setting for a horror film.
She grabbed her phone like it was a comforter but saw there was no signal. The sight of those five empty bars of signal made her feel even more worried, even more isolated and alone. For the first time since up and leaving her life behind, Emily began to feel like she’d made a terribly stupid decision.
She got out of the car and shivered as the cold, snowy air bit at her flesh. She walked around to the trunk and took a look at the engine, not knowing what exactly she was even looking for.
Just then, she heard the rumbling of a truck. Her heart leapt with relief as she squinted into the distance and just about made out two headlights trundling along the road toward her. She began waving her arms, flagging the truck down as it approached.
Luckily, it pulled over, drawing to a halt just behind her car, sputtering exhaust fumes into the cold air, its harsh lights illuminating the falling snowflakes.
The driver’s door creaked as it swung open, and two heavily booted feet crunched down into the snow. Emily could only see the silhouette of the person before her and had a sudden horrible panic that she’d flagged down the local murderer.
“Got yourself in a bad situation, have you?” she heard an old man’s raspy voice say.
