McCarthys of Gansett Island Boxed Set Books 1-3 (75 page)

Sydney closed the front door and slid down to the floor. Only now that she was alone could she give in to the overwhelming fear and dread that had gripped her during the long night. Luke had already seen her unglued once. He didn’t need to see it again.

Sobs shook her body, making her chest ache and her head pound. She kept telling herself Buddy was fine, the thing she’d most feared hadn’t happened, but she’d come so close to losing the last remaining link to her family.
 

A soft knock on the door had her raising her head from her knees and wiping her face.

“Syd. Let me in. I know you’re upset. You don’t need to be alone.”

Riveted by his voice, she couldn’t bring herself to move.

“Come on, baby. Let me in.”

 
Tears cascaded down her face.

“Sydney.” His voice was so soft, so tender. “I’m not leaving you alone. I figured out about two seconds after you walked away that you were on the verge of a meltdown and didn’t want me to see you that way again. But I’m not going anywhere. You can melt down every day if you need to. I’ll be right here with you.”

Sobs hiccupped through her, one right after the other. All at once, she was on her feet, opening the door. Braced in the doorway, arms over his head, his tall frame took up most of the space. He scooped her up with one arm and carried her into the house.
 

“Hold on,” he whispered. “Hold on to me.”

Sydney wrapped her arms and legs around him and buried her face in his neck, comforted by his familiar scent.

He lowered them into a big easy chair, settling her on his lap. “It’s okay, baby. Get it all out. I know how scared you must’ve been all night long. I was scared, too. Buddy is such a good boy, and he’s been right by your side when you needed him most.”

All the fear and dread and worry about Buddy melded with the ongoing grief she lived with every minute of every day, making her feel weak and defeated. She’d tried so hard to put her life together again, but two frightening episodes had set her back.
 

They sat there until long after the sun came up and lit the room. Luke stroked her hair and whispered soft words until no tears were left, until her sobs became an occasional hiccup. Telling her again to hold on, he lifted her and headed for the stairs, going directly to the room he knew was hers from years of throwing pebbles at her window.

He set her down next to the bed and helped her out of her clothes and into the oversize T-shirt she slept in. Next, he led her to the bathroom and waited outside the door for her before he tucked her into bed and stretched out next to her on top of the comforter.

“Come here, Syd.”

She turned into his embrace, taking comfort from his strength.

His lips were warm against her forehead. “Sleep, baby. Close your eyes and let it go for a while. I’ve got you.”

Sydney released a long shuddering breath and closed her eyes, relieved to let it all go, relieved to be surrounded by his unconditional love.

Janey found Joe asleep on the sofa in Doc’s office. His arms were tossed over his head, and his long body was sprawled awkwardly over the too-short sofa. She delighted at the sight of him. He was always there for her when she needed him, and she couldn’t wait to be married to him in two short weeks.
 

That she’d once fancied herself in love with someone else seemed so foolish now that she was completely, totally and forever in love with Joe.

Approaching the sofa, she bent to kiss his lips.

He woke with a start. “Oh. Hey, babe,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his face. “How’s Buddy?”

“Having a nice drug-induced snooze at the moment.”

Joe reached for her. “You look beat. Can you close your eyes for a minute?”

“Maybe one or two.”

Before she knew what had hit her, he had her arranged on top of him, her head tucked into his chest and his arms around her. “Very smooth.”

 
“Why thank you.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll listen for Buddy.”

“He’ll be out for a while yet. You could go home if you wanted to.”

Joe tightened his hold on her. “I’m right where I want to be.”

Janey let go of the tension from the long, stressful night. “Thanks for being here.”

“You did a great job. You saved Buddy’s life and Sydney’s sanity. I’m so proud of you.”

She raised her head to kiss him. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

He framed her face and held her still for another kiss. “Watching you take control of the situation—even though you had to be panicking on the inside—was very sexy.” Another kiss, this one with a touch of tongue thrown in.
 

Janey smiled at him. “Is that so?”

“Mmm,” Joe said as he outlined her mouth with the tip of his tongue. “Very.”

Wanting to encourage him to keep kissing her, she squirmed on top of him.

“Watch the merchandise,” he muttered.

She ran her hand down his belly to cup his erection. “This merchandise?”

“Is there any other?”

“Not for me.”

Laughing, he said, “Good answer. You think Doc Potter has this place bugged?”
 

Janey took a look around her mentor’s office. “I don’t think so. Why?”

Joe tugged on the button to her jeans. “Because if he does, he’s about to get one hell of a show.”

“I thought you wanted me to sleep.”

“You will. After.”

Grant stood outside Abby’s Attic, the downtown store Abby had opened three years ago. She had created an offbeat success of the Main Street boutique that was part gift shop, part toy store, part eclectic antiques. She’d opened the store after she came home from Los Angeles.

They’d moved there together right out of college to pursue his dream of writing movies. But as much as Grant loved the hustle and bustle of the city, Abby never had clicked with the place. She’d yearned for the simplicity of their home island, and nothing he said or did could convince her to stay once she made up her mind to go home. They’d been living together nearly ten years by then, and he couldn’t imagine life without her. But more than anything, he wanted her to be happy. That she wasn’t happy in LA was clear to everyone who knew her there.

Something she’d said to him before she left had remained with him ever since. “You can write anywhere, Grant. Anywhere in the whole world. Why can’t you write in the one place where I want to be?”

Convinced he needed to stay where the work was, he’d let her go. They’d had a bicoastal relationship ever since and had been making it work—somehow—until last summer when he came home for Mac’s wedding and Abby issued an ultimatum Grant hadn’t seen coming.
 

She was all done waiting for him. Either he came home to be with her, or she was moving on with her life without him. He’d panicked, of course, and told her he needed one more year to turn things around in LA. Nothing had gone his way since the magical night he’d received the Oscar nearly three years ago—ironically right around the time Abby had left. Lately, it seemed, he couldn’t get a job flipping burgers in Hollywood.

As it turned out, winning the big one had been a disaster for his career. He’d become his own worst nightmare: a one-hit wonder. The latest blow had come a week ago when he’d been rejected for a job he’d been promised by a producer friend. “I couldn’t get it past the money people,” his friend had said when he called to deliver the crushing news.
 

It was another disaster on top of the one that had come a few days before—news from home that Abby planned to marry someone else.
 

Grant had been awake all night after the phone call from the producer. At about three in the morning, it dawned on him that he’d had enough of Hollywood. He’d had enough of living without Abby, of pretending he had any kind of life at all without her by his side.
 

If he had any prayer of convincing her that she was making an enormous mistake by marrying anyone other than him, he had to go home and make things right with her. So he’d packed most of his stuff into storage, put his place in Malibu on the market, left his car with a friend to sell and headed for LAX.

Now, as he studied her storefront from the quiet sidewalk that would soon bustle with tourists, he could only hope he wasn’t too late.

At nine o’clock on the dot, Abby appeared at the front door and turned the Closed sign to Open.
 

Watching her, Grant stood up a little straighter and waited for her to notice him there. But she turned away and went back into the store, leaving him standing there like a lovesick fool hoping the girl he favored would grace him with a glance.
 

He’d have to go in. For some reason, that frightened him. He’d pictured this playing out differently. She’d see him out there on the sidewalk, her eyes would widen, and she’d burst through the door to throw herself into his arms.

“It’s not a movie, you asshole,” he muttered to himself. For a guy who fancied himself rather good with words, he had no idea what he planned to say to her. All he knew was he had to say
something
to stop her from marrying the wrong man.
 

Steeling himself for whatever reaction she might have to his sudden reappearance, he cleared his throat, ran unsteady fingers through his hair and pushed open the door. Jingling bells announced his presence.

“Be right with you,” she called from the back room.
 

Grant was hit right away with her favorite scents—lavender and sage and a hint of vanilla—and a memory of their years in LA when he arrived home each night to one of her favorite scents coming from the candle of the day. God, why hadn’t he married her when he’d had the chance? When she’d been living in his house, their two lives entirely entwined? He’d made the mistake then of assuming nothing could ever come between them. He’d made the monumental mistake of putting his ambition ahead of her.

The store was cluttered and cozy and practical, just like the woman who owned it. As he waited for her, Grant’s heart hammered in his chest, and his palms were suddenly damp.
 

“Hi there,” Abby said. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Grant looked up and their eyes met.

Her big brown eyes got even bigger, and she sucked in a sharp deep breath when she saw him. “Grant.”

“Hi, Abs.” Her shiny dark hair had gotten long in the year since he’d last seen her, and as he contemplated the mouth that had fueled his fantasies for as long as he could remember, Grant realized he’d played this all wrong. He never should’ve given her a year to ponder life without him, and he feared he’d regret that for the rest of his days if he couldn’t convince her to give him one more chance.

“What’re you doing here? Janey’s wedding isn’t for two weeks yet.” She kept her hands busy straightening shelves that didn’t need straightening. A flash from the large diamond on her left hand sliced through him like a heated laser, leaving him breathless and anxious.
 

“I’ve come home. To stay.” As he said the words she’d waited years to hear, he braced himself for her fury. It was the least of what he deserved.

“Is that so?”

Grant took a step closer to her. “I’m home, Abby.”

“Your mother must be pleased.”

His
mother
? “Is she the only one?”

“Your dad, Janey and Mac, too, I assume.”

What the hell was wrong with her? Here he was telling her he’d finally left Los Angeles. He’d finally come home to her, and she didn’t really seem to care. How was that possible after the years they’d spent loving each other so passionately?

 
“What about you?” Another step closer. “Are you at all happy to see me?”

“Of course I am.” Her eyes flashed with emotion, which gave him hope. She began refolding a pile of perfectly folded Gansett Island T-shirts.

“I’m sorry for making you wait so long. I know now that was wrong. I shouldn’t have gone back last year after you told me how much you wanted to get married and have a family.”

“You did what you needed to,” she said in a flat emotionless tone he’d never heard from her before. “I certainly understand that.”

Grant reached out to stop her from refolding another shirt. “Abby, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” she said, raising her chin defiantly. “Everything is great with me. I finally have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“But what about us?”

“There is no more us, Grant. I told you that a year ago. You made your choice, and I made mine. It’s over.”

He heard the words, but everything in him rejected them. “No. It’s not over.”

The bells on the door jingled again, and Grant bit back a swear of frustration. He wanted to tell whoever it was to get the hell out, but that would hardly help his case.

“Hey, darlin’,” a deep voice drawled behind Grant. “Brought you a caffeine boost. What a crazy night I had operating on a dog! Oh, sorry, didn’t see you had a customer.”

Right before Grant’s eyes, Abby lit up at the sight of the guy who’d brought the coffee. The
fiancé
, he presumed.