“You’re not curious about him?”
“There have been times in my life when I was and I’d have given anything to see him, but it ain’t today. And it won’t be tomorrow.”
It’s late evening and Laurelyn is in the bathroom getting ready to go out for dinner. I’m sitting on the couch and hear the buzzing vibration of her phone, but it stops before I’m able to pick it up. I look at the screen and see a missed call from Blake Phillips. Who the hell is he?
He could be anyone. A relative. A friend. A boyfriend. I want to know, but I don’t dare ask because I’m afraid to know the answer.
Laurelyn comes into the living room and I slide her phone into my pocket. I don’t want her to know I saw the call from this man; tonight isn’t the right time to have this conversation.
She’s caught a lot of sun while we’ve been here and her skin is golden against her cream sundress. I’m happy to see her wearing her birthday gift, and I reach out to touch it where it rests against her neck. “This is perfect on you.”
She smiles as she reaches up to touch it. “It’s beautiful and I love it. Thank you again.”
“You’re more beautiful. And you’re welcome.”
I take her to an Italian restaurant where I’ve eaten before when in town on business. The food is great and it’s the last place I’d expect to be accosted by a set of sexual deviants. At least I hope. My fist isn’t ready to be used again quite so soon. I told Laurelyn it was fine, but I lied. It still hurts like hell.
“You’re unusually quiet. What’s going on in that head of yours, Mr. Henry?”
I’m thinking of things better left alone. I know she’s only been with one other man. Is it Blake Phillips? Not knowing is taunting me. Is he the one who hurt her? I can’t get him off my mind, so I decide there are other ways of asking about him without asking.
“I was thinking about how a beautiful woman like you must date a lot.”
She smiles and the candlelight illuminates her high cheekbones. “I do. I’ve had a date with an extremely handsome man almost every day for the past six weeks.”
She’s deflecting from the real question. “No, I mean before you came here.”
She shrugs as she looks down at her plate. “Not so much.”
“What about a serious relationship?”
Her head oscillates from side to side. “Not really.”
I don’t think she’s lying to me, but I find it hard to believe someone so desirable has never been in a relationship. “You’ve never had a boyfriend?”
She’s fidgeting in her seat. I’m making her uncomfortable, so there’s plenty she isn’t telling me. “I had something one time, but boyfriend doesn’t feel like the right word for what he was to me.”
“Was it serious?” Was it Blake Phillips?
She’s pushing her food around and I think I’ve upset her. Dammit. “I thought it was at the time, but we had a difference of opinion.”
“Oh.” Does that mean he left her? Does she still want him?
“What’s with all the questions?”
“Nothing. Just making conversation.” She’s being vague, which causes me to be suspicious. My gut tells me there’s much more to this story. She isn’t a woman who has had a single one-sided serious relationship, but I choose to drop it for now, leaving it open as a topic I may want to revisit. Looks like we both have secrets.
She’s sitting at the dining room table with her eyes closed when I bring in a cake with twenty-three flaming candles. “You can open your eyes.”
“Wow. That’s a lot of fire.”
“Wait until you’re thirty,” I laugh. “There’s even more.”
Her brow wrinkles. “You told me you were twenty-nine.”
“I was when we met.”
“When did you turn thirty?”
“A couple of weeks ago—on the thirteenth.”
“You didn’t tell me,” she whispers and she looks hurt. I see her thumbing through her filed memories from two weeks ago. “It was when you went to your parents’ house, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“When I almost left you?”
“Yes.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“You mean the same way you told me today was your birthday?”
She laughs. “Right. I don’t guess I can be too upset with you since I did the exact same thing. I would’ve given you a gift if I’d known.”
I sit in the chair beside her and take her hands. “But, you did. Staying with me was the best gift you could’ve given me.”
I don’t think she knows what to say to that, so I make it easy for her. “Make a wish and blow out your candles before we catch the house on fire.”
She smiles and draws a deep breath before she leans forward to extinguish the twenty-three tiny flames.
I want all of her wishes to come true. Not just this one.
37
Laurelyn Prescott
After Lachlan finishes his work at the Auckland vineyard, we return to Avalon and fall back into our routines. He works every day while I keep busy at the house, waiting for him to come home.
Wow. We have routines. How domestic is that? And I called Avalon home? That’s a minuscule detail that doesn’t evade my attention.
Harvest time for the vineyards is approaching, so Lachlan is working a lot more since our return from New Zealand. I spend time with Addison when she’s not wrapped up with Zac, but I’m still left with a lot of time to keep myself busy, so I do the only thing I can: I throw myself into writing music.
I have a career to return to in four weeks. At least, I hope I still have a career. Blake still owns half the rights to my songs from the record we were producing, and he can shove them up his ass. I’m writing new songs. It’s the wrecked affair with him I worry about. I pray word of it doesn’t get out and ruin everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve.
Wow. I only have four weeks left with Lachlan.
Our precious time together feels like a candle with wicks burning at both ends. Once the flame meets in the middle, we’re over. I’ll never see him again, or hear his laugh or touch his skin. I’ll never share a bed with him again. Am I prepared for it when that time comes? I don’t think I am, but it doesn’t matter if I’m not. It’s coming, and I’d better figure out how to get ready.
I’m thankful to have the Martin and the baby grand at my disposal because Lachlan’s long hours give me a lot of time to compose. Being here inspires me. Hell, I should at least be honest about it. It’s Lachlan who inspires me. I know the stuff I’m writing is gold, but the inspiration behind the music is bittersweet, and I fear I’ve come to that place I didn’t want to be—writing hits because I’m terribly in love.