folded his hand over hers. “Don’t give up yet.”
“I have to be realistic.” Though she had been praying for a miracle, a winning lottery ticket hadn’t miraculously shown up in her mailbox. “I’ve been trying to contact my landlord all week. He doesn’t even have the guts to return my calls. So today I’ve been working on alternative places for us to move—maybe even temporary housing for each girl.” Being moved again was not what the girls needed. They needed stability, security.
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” His positivity grated on Lucy’s tired nerves, but she pushed her irritation away as Matt’s fingers caressed the top of her hand. “Have you given any more thought to . . . us?”
Of course she had. And if she didn’t quit thinking about it and her menagerie of other problems, she was going to be completely gray by spring. “I just don’t know, Matt.” She couldn’t let herself get too caught up again. Though she couldn’t deny the smallest flicker of hope. “You want to know my honest take on this?”
“I want us to always be honest.”
A little honesty would’ve gone a long way two years ago, so the breakup wouldn’t have hit her like a runaway train out of nowhere. “My guess is that the job in Dallas wasn’t all that you thought it would be. You’re a guy who likes routine—likes the familiar. So when the job didn’t satisfy you and something came available in Charleston, you moved back. And since you apparently don’t have someone in your life, you thought you’d see if you could reconnect with me.” She sat back and crossed her arms. She had to make sure he knew she wasn’t just going to fall into his arms with gratitude.
“That’s a fair shot.” A half-smile appeared on his face, a look so achingly familiar, she wished his scowl would return. “But you’re wrong.” His voice was a rough whisper as he leaned closer. “I made partner within six months of being at that firm. I had a house in Highland Park. Expense account. But I just went through the motions every day. Because you weren’t there. And I knew you couldn’t relocate. Lucy, it was nothing without you.”
Her heart was a polar ice cap. And it was melting.
His eyes searched hers. “I left it all for you. I’m here because of you. My whole life . . . is you.”
Forever .
I’ve waited forever for those words .
Matt’s fingers slid up her jaw and cupped her face. “I love you, Lucy.” She sighed as his lips hovered over hers. “And I want you to be my wife.”
Chapter Seven
W hen Alex Sinclair wanted something, he let nothing stand in his way. And today was no exception.
Standing in the small foyer, Alex could hear music blasting down the hall. “I’m here to see Lucy Wiltshire,” he said to the resident assistant, taking in the spa-like colors of Saving Grace.
“Uh-huh,” came her breathy reply.
He patiently stood and waited for the awestruck female to reclaim her power of speech. He was, after all, a citizen of this town. When would people stop treating him like some Tinseltown star and begin acting like he was one of their own?
“Do you have an appointment?” she finally asked.
“Yes.” It wasn’t a total lie. Lucy had suggested Alex visit the home.
“Okay.” The young woman dropped her car keys, then bobbed down to the pick them up. “Okay, um, we’re headed out to the library, so, um . . .” More staring.
“Follow Etta James?”
The R.A. nodded, then stumbled over her feet before walking out the door.
After a burnt run to her apartment, Alex was glad to finally track Lucy down. Because last night he had slept a solid six hours for the first time in a year. Finally something in his life felt right. All he needed was her cooperation.
As Etta’s smooth contralto got closer, Lucy’s own voice got louder. Rounding a corner, he found her in a large dining room, belting out “At Last” and dusting a china cabinet.
He stood still for a moment,
“I have to be realistic.” Though she had been praying for a miracle, a winning lottery ticket hadn’t miraculously shown up in her mailbox. “I’ve been trying to contact my landlord all week. He doesn’t even have the guts to return my calls. So today I’ve been working on alternative places for us to move—maybe even temporary housing for each girl.” Being moved again was not what the girls needed. They needed stability, security.
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” His positivity grated on Lucy’s tired nerves, but she pushed her irritation away as Matt’s fingers caressed the top of her hand. “Have you given any more thought to . . . us?”
Of course she had. And if she didn’t quit thinking about it and her menagerie of other problems, she was going to be completely gray by spring. “I just don’t know, Matt.” She couldn’t let herself get too caught up again. Though she couldn’t deny the smallest flicker of hope. “You want to know my honest take on this?”
“I want us to always be honest.”
A little honesty would’ve gone a long way two years ago, so the breakup wouldn’t have hit her like a runaway train out of nowhere. “My guess is that the job in Dallas wasn’t all that you thought it would be. You’re a guy who likes routine—likes the familiar. So when the job didn’t satisfy you and something came available in Charleston, you moved back. And since you apparently don’t have someone in your life, you thought you’d see if you could reconnect with me.” She sat back and crossed her arms. She had to make sure he knew she wasn’t just going to fall into his arms with gratitude.
“That’s a fair shot.” A half-smile appeared on his face, a look so achingly familiar, she wished his scowl would return. “But you’re wrong.” His voice was a rough whisper as he leaned closer. “I made partner within six months of being at that firm. I had a house in Highland Park. Expense account. But I just went through the motions every day. Because you weren’t there. And I knew you couldn’t relocate. Lucy, it was nothing without you.”
Her heart was a polar ice cap. And it was melting.
His eyes searched hers. “I left it all for you. I’m here because of you. My whole life . . . is you.”
Forever .
I’ve waited forever for those words .
Matt’s fingers slid up her jaw and cupped her face. “I love you, Lucy.” She sighed as his lips hovered over hers. “And I want you to be my wife.”
Chapter Seven
W hen Alex Sinclair wanted something, he let nothing stand in his way. And today was no exception.
Standing in the small foyer, Alex could hear music blasting down the hall. “I’m here to see Lucy Wiltshire,” he said to the resident assistant, taking in the spa-like colors of Saving Grace.
“Uh-huh,” came her breathy reply.
He patiently stood and waited for the awestruck female to reclaim her power of speech. He was, after all, a citizen of this town. When would people stop treating him like some Tinseltown star and begin acting like he was one of their own?
“Do you have an appointment?” she finally asked.
“Yes.” It wasn’t a total lie. Lucy had suggested Alex visit the home.
“Okay.” The young woman dropped her car keys, then bobbed down to the pick them up. “Okay, um, we’re headed out to the library, so, um . . .” More staring.
“Follow Etta James?”
The R.A. nodded, then stumbled over her feet before walking out the door.
After a burnt run to her apartment, Alex was glad to finally track Lucy down. Because last night he had slept a solid six hours for the first time in a year. Finally something in his life felt right. All he needed was her cooperation.
As Etta’s smooth contralto got closer, Lucy’s own voice got louder. Rounding a corner, he found her in a large dining room, belting out “At Last” and dusting a china cabinet.
He stood still for a moment,
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