Page 32 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage (Jonathon Island #6)

Chapter Fifteen

S he was avoiding Jonah, and she hated it.

Ever since she’d decided he’d be better off without her, she’d begun rebuilding the protective wall around her heart. He needed to be a father. She wanted that for him. But she couldn’t give that to him.

Dani had given her the perfect out when she’d asked to introduce Bronte to a fan that had come over on the ferry.

When the introductions had finished, Dani had announced the dance floor was open.

As couples started pairing off and flooding the open space, Jordi had pulled Bronte and Dani aside, telling them something about one of the old men trying to drive the snowplow around town and another one chasing after him in a golf cart.

If Bronte were smart, she’d find someone to take her home. Then she’d pack her bags and get off the island before anyone else knew she was leaving.

Liam stole Dani for a dance right before a tall, dark, and handsome stranger asked Jordi for a spin, leaving Bronte alone with her thoughts. A dangerous place to be.

“What are you doing over here? Why aren’t you out on the dance floor with Jonah? He’s looking really sharp tonight.” Martha stood beside Bronte, her hands on her hips.

“Hi, Martha. What did you think of the dinner?” Bronte asked, a limp attempt to change the subject.

“The dinner was fine.” Martha brushed at her black velvet dress. “I could have done a better job, but I appreciate why Dani had everything catered in, and”—she pointed a finger a Bronte—“if you tell her I said so, I’ll deny every word.”

Bronte dragged two fingers over her lips as if she were zipping them tight and then threw away the invisible key. “My lips are sealed.”

“But really, why are you hiding here? Why aren’t you out there?” Martha motioned toward the dance floor.

Tears stung the backs of Bronte’s eyes. She promised herself she wasn’t going to cry about this.

She had cried enough over relationships when it didn’t work out with Brad.

Why had she thought, hoped, anything would be different with Jonah?

Heaving in a deep breath, and successfully keeping the tears at bay, Bronte responded, “I just needed a moment.”

The look Martha gave her let her know she wasn’t buying the excuse, but they both turned and watched everyone else pairing off and joining the others on the dance floor.

As Bronte’s eyes scanned the crowd, they couldn’t help but be drawn to Jonah’s tall form. Emotions twisted in her belly as she watched him talking to a girl—who, from the looks of it, couldn’t keep from touching him.

She frowned. The woman looked familiar, but Bronte couldn’t remember where she knew her from. She didn’t think she’d seen her around on the island the past few days, but everyone here was new, so maybe she had.

“Martha, who’s that with Jonah?” She shouldn’t feel the pang of jealousy coursing through her. Isn’t this what she wanted? Jonah with someone else.

“What? Oh, her.”

The way Martha said her made Bronte’s stomach drop. “Who is she?”

There was steel in Martha’s eyes. “That is Aubrey.” Martha said the name it as if it were a bad word. “Or Bree, as she’s known around here.”

Aubrey. The girl from the ferry. She remembered now how Aubrey had said something about coming over and spending the holidays with her grandmother.

Never in a million years would Bronte have thought Aubrey from the ferry and Jonah’s Bree were the same person.

She wanted to hate her, but she’d been so nice on the ferry.

“Everyone always expected those two to get married,” Martha went on, oblivious to Bronte’s pain. “They were voted most likely to get married in high school. Then one day, after years of being engaged, they just called it off. I’m not sure what happened.”

Her words echoed what Dani had told her about Bree the day before.

Martha’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh.” The one word sliced through Bronte as she turned to see what had surprised Martha.

Bree wrapped her arms around Jonah’s neck and pulled him toward her. Bronte turned before she could see their lips touch. A sharp pain sliced her ribs. All the breath left her. The wall she had been rebuilding slammed into place. Fully intact. This shouldn’t matter to her as much as it did.

After all, this was playing out exactly as Bronte had known it would when she’d heard about Bree. But did it have to happen with her in the room? Why had she let herself imagine anything else?

No. She curled her hands into fists. She wasn’t going to get upset about something that would ultimately give Jonah everything he ever wanted.

She was the bump in the couple’s relationship, the one that they would look back on over their life and laugh about. The one in the movie who was the stand-in until the girl who broke the guy’s heart met back up with him years later and told him that she’d made a mistake.

This would be better for Jonah anyway, Bronte told herself one more time.

Jonah wanted a big family, and Bronte would bet anything that Bree still had a uterus.

She knew Jonah told her that Bree had broken it off, but it looked like she had changed her mind.

Bree would be able to give Jonah the life he wanted, the one with all the kids running around on the island.

Once Jonah told his dad that he no longer wanted to take over the clinic, that he wanted to open a bookstore, marry Bree, and raise babies on Jonathon Island, his dad would be thrilled.

Jonah’s family would be excited at his life plans, excited that he’d be coming back to the island.

Mind made up, Bronte nodded, turning to Martha. She wanted to get out of here and scrub her eyes. “I think I’m ready to go home.”

Martha looked back and forth between Bronte and the PDA happening on the dance floor. “But aren’t you going to…”

“Nope. No, I’m not, Martha, because that”—Bronte blindly pointed a finger in the direction of the happy couple, not willing to look to see if she was even pointing in the right direction—“is what Jonah White wants. He’s been waiting his whole life for someone who can come alongside him in his dreams, and Bree can do that. ”

The older woman frowned. “But?—”

Bronte held up a hand, cutting Martha off. She was suddenly tired. So, so tired. “Thanks, Martha, but I’m going to get a ride home.”

Martha studied Bronte for so long that Bronte hoped she’d drop a bit of wisdom. Or tell her to go break up Jonah and Bree. In the end, Martha just nodded, and Bronte left to gather her things from where they’d stashed them earlier in a side room.

“I figured you’d be dancing the night away.” Dani’s voice startled Bronte. “Why aren’t you dancing?”

Bronte didn’t feel like talking about what happened. The faster she could gather her things and get out of there, the better.

“I just came in here to get a new battery for the walkie.” Dani seemed to just realize that Bronte had gathered her things. “Wait. Are you leaving?”

“Yeah.” Bronte shrugged. “I’m getting a little tired and still need to finish up my writing for today, so I’m heading out early.”

“Oh, bummer.” Dani exchanged the battery on her walkie, dropping the used one back into the charger. “Hope you get your words written. Thanks for coming this afternoon, and for all the help setting up yesterday. I really appreciate it. Hope you had a good time tonight.”

“I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.”

She’d remember her entire stay on Jonathon Island. A little over a week, and she felt like she was part of a family—even more so than when she had been with Brad and his family.

But in the end, Bronte had still ended up with nothing.

* * *

“What are you doing?” Jonah pulled back from Bree before she could kiss him, and then, feeling like there still wasn’t enough space between them, took a step back.

“I’m trying to tell you that I’m sorry.” Bree’s eyes darted around as if making sure all eyes weren’t on them.

“That I made a mistake when I didn’t fight for us seven years ago.

I want us back, Jonah.” She took a step toward him, but he held out a hand, stopping her.

“I would have told you sooner, but this isn’t exactly something you tell someone over FaceTime. ”

Bree’s eyes were wide, and her lower lip trembled. Any other time, it would have been Jonah’s breaking point. A crying Bree always got what she wanted, but that had been then.

Jonah ran a hand over his face. How could something that he’d wanted for so long not stir anything inside him? He just felt…nothing. He chuckled.

Bree blanched. “This is funny to you?”

“I wanted this for so long. When you said you were done waiting and I wasn’t ready to commit, it about broke me,” Jonah said with a shake of his head.

Bree’s face turned from one of shock, to something hopeful.

Jonah was sorry to disappoint her. “But I don’t.

Want this”—he motioned between them—“anymore.”

Bree’s face fell. “What can I do to get you back, Jonah?” She put her hands on his chest. “I need you back.”

Jonah gently wrapped his hands around Bree’s wrists and removed them from his chest. “Bree, we aren’t good for each other?—”

“Yes, we are,” she interrupted, sounding desperate. “We’re perfect for each other. Everyone says so!”

But at the shake of Jonah’s head, Bree fell silent.

“That was years ago, Bree. We’re not good for each other, and maybe we stayed together for so long not because we were in love but because that’s what we felt like everyone expected of us.

” Wasn’t that what he was doing now with being a surgeon?

“I think we were just together for so long that we were comfortable, but comfortable doesn’t mean we were right for each other. ”

Panic flashed across Bree’s eyes. “But if we’re not perfect for each other, what am I supposed to do?”