Page 22 of Take Me (Cherry Blossom Lake #5)

“Reading you loud and clear, Haze.” But I’m still wildly curious. “To answer your bachelorette party question, Kaleb’s been gracious enough to loan out the sober shuttle. Edgar Cornish is driving us all to Newport. We’ve got a private dining room with a table for twenty at Salt and Cream.”

“No tacky penis hats or male strippers throwing their g-strings on our dinner plates?”

I can’t tell if she sounds like she wants that or finds it unbearably tacky. “No strippers, no costumes. Cass just wants a nice dinner.” It’s a far cry from Zoe’s bachelorette party, which had lots of the former. “But between you and me, there might be penis straws.”

“Lovely.” Hazel picks up her last petit fours with a glance at her watch. “I should probably run. I’ve got a meeting.” She pops the pastry in her mouth and wipes the tips of her fingers on the napkin. “You’re sure I can’t pay for lunch?”

“Positive. I’m just grateful Dad had you there when the roof collapsed.” Because yeah, that’s what happened. That hole in my ceiling got a whole lot bigger at roughly the same moment Mason sank down on his knees in the shower.

“It was a bit terrifying,” Hazel says. “I’m just glad it wasn’t in his half of the house. No offense.”

“None taken.” We already knew the roof needed repairs, but this makes it more urgent. “They’ve got it tarped up for now, but it might be awhile until the roofing crew gets there to fix it.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay at my place? There’s plenty of room.”

“I’m fine.” Sleeping on Dad’s couch isn’t ideal, but I’ll manage. “Other than the roof incident, how did things go with my dad?”

“We had fun.” She shrugs on her cream leather jacket. “We played six games of chess and we each won three.”

“He loves hanging with you.”

“He’s a lovely man.” Hazel gets up, and I do the same so I can hug her. “May I dress you for the other two weddings?”

“You’d really trust me with more of your clothing?”

“Of course.” She picks up a handbag that probably costs more than the contents of my closet. “I have so much stuff I can’t wear anymore.” She tips her chin toward the empty petit fours plate. “Stress eating, I suppose.”

“I hear ya.” It can’t be easy having a father in prison. It’s stressful enough having one in a wheelchair. “You really want to dress me?”

“Yes, please.”

“Then I accept your generous offer on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing that leaks dye when it’s wet, requires weird undergarments, or involves hooking my boobs in a harness.”

Hazel laughs as she hugs me. “Deal.”

“Thanks again, Haze.”

“My pleasure. Truly.”

I give her a squeeze, then let go and watch her stride to the door. Just as she pushes it open, she turns back to glance at the far corner table. Luke Lovelin looks up at the same exact moment, and their eyes lock together like magnets.

Hazel spins back around, striding out the door on her mile-high heels. When I dart a quick glance at Luke, I see how he watches her walk out of sight.

Interesting.

“Need anything else?” Our waitress swoops to my table with a coffee pot in one hand and my check in the other.

“I think I’m good.” What the heck, I could use more caffeine. “Actually, just a warmup would be great. Thanks.”

“No problem.” She tops off my coffee and takes the credit card I hand her. As she walks away, the front door swings open again.

The instant I see him, the breath stalls in my lungs. It’s Neil, fucking Neil , and he’s walking this way. Familiar brown eyes sweep my face, and he offers a well-guarded smile. He’s looking me over like he’s checking for weapons, and I can’t say I blame him.

“Erika.”

“Hello, Neil.” I hate how my heart bangs the bars of my ribs. I hate even more how handsome he looks in faded gray jeans and a mud-colored fisherman’s sweater.

He nods at the seat that Hazel just left. “I was hoping to run into you. Mind if I sit for a sec?”

“Actually, I was just leaving.” I still need to wait for my credit card, but I’ll leave it behind for the chance to avoid sitting here chatting with Neil like we’re pals. “I have to get back to work.”

“Thought you didn’t work on Mondays.”

Of course he still knows my schedule. Sighing, I pick up my coffee. “Make it quick, okay? Whatever you want to talk about?—”

“I’m seeing someone.”

The blood in my veins turns to tar. I keep my hand steady, setting my coffee cup down on its saucer. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Neil clears his throat. “Heard you and Mason got together. Always thought I sensed something between you.”

“You didn’t.” Crap . “Not before, anyway . Not while you and I were dating. I never looked at Mason like that.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t sound convinced, but he lets it drop. Folding his hands on the table, he takes a deep breath. “I thought, since we’re both seeing other people now, we could have an adult conversation.”

“As opposed to the juvenile ones we had for ten years?” I sound like a bitch, but that was a dick thing to say. “So sorry you found my conversational skills lacking.”

His jaw clenches. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you mean it?”

“Why do you have to be like this?”

I fight back the urge to throw my coffee at him. “Because you keep pestering me to sit down and chat like old friends, and I’m not feeling very friendly toward you, okay?”

He grunts and looks out the window. “Well pardon me for trying to be nice .”

“Nice?” The nerve of this guy. “ Nice would have been dumping me privately instead of staging a public scene to get out of having an uncomfortable, intimate conversation. Nice would have been not humiliating me in front of half the town. Nice would have been being honest about your feelings instead of stringing me along for ten years.”

“Erika, God.” He squeezes his eyes shut for a second. “I’ve apologized already, and I swear I didn’t string you along.” It’s clear he’s growing impatient with my pettiness.

That makes two of us.

“I get it. I wasn’t the one . Not for you, anyway.” I’m dry-eyed and holding his gaze like a grownup, so maybe I really am over him. “But you could have manned up and talked to me privately as soon as you started having doubts.”

“Fine,” he mutters, glancing away. “Sorry for being just a little bit busy serving and protecting our country.”

“Fuck off, Neil.” How dare he play the military hero card. “A month before you dumped me, we went shopping for engagement rings.”

“That was a flop.” He mutters it softly, like I’m not meant to hear, which just makes me madder.

“You’re right, I didn’t want the same sort of fancy ring you seemed to picture me wearing. So what if I didn’t have a clue what a bezel cut is, or that carat isn’t something you put on a salad? We could have compromised , Neil—that wasn’t a reason to break up.”

“That’s not why we split, and you know it.” He won’t even look at me now. “We’re too different.”

“I wasn’t enough, you mean.” I sound so pathetic, but I can’t seem to make the words stop. “Not the sweet little girly-girl you wanted me to be.”

“I’ve known who you are from the start, Erika.” He sounds tired now, resigned. “I’m allowed to change my mind about what I want in a life partner.”

“So why did you keep stringing me along?” When he doesn’t respond, I keep going.

“Two weeks before we split, you were pushing me to pick a wedding dress. A week before you dumped me, we discussed having our wedding in the same church where my parents got married.” My eyes start to sting, but I blink myself back under control.

“You can’t honestly tell me you changed your mind that quickly. ”

He hesitates. Tearing his gaze off the sidewalk outside, he looks at me with remorse in his eyes. “No,” he admits. “I can’t.”

Whoa. That’s the first time he’s truly been honest.

The triumph feels hollow, like a medal I’ve gotten for completing a race in last place.

“So why did you do it?” I’d like to have answers at least. “If you knew you didn’t plan to marry me, why did you keep pretending you were in it for the long haul?”

“I don’t know.” Neil drags his hands down his face. “I guess I just hoped I’d rekindle those feelings. That something might change and I wouldn’t have to break your heart.”

Swallowing hard, I manage to gulp down the lump in my throat. “Well, you did break my heart.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

There’s something different in how he says it. A look in his eyes that tells me how intensely he means it. I don’t feel sorry for him—God, no—but I get how much it would suck to fall out of love with the person you’d once planned to spend your life with.

And that’s the crux of this, isn’t it? I’d never want to be with someone who didn’t love me back.

“All right.” Anger leaks out of me like a balloon that’s deflating. I’m still stinging and raw, but at least it’s a start. “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” Neil draws another deep breath. “Look, there’s more. I didn’t want to do this here. I wanted to have this conversation privately , like you said.”

I can concede I haven’t been easy to reach. “I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“I get that.” He lets out a long, shaky breath. “But there’s something else. Something I’ve been needing to tell you.”

I knew there had to be. He wouldn’t spend weeks leaving messages, then track me down at the coffee shop just to say sorry . He’s said it enough times already.

Gripping my coffee cup, I force myself to hold his gaze. “What is it?”

He looks down at the table, collecting his thoughts. “I’m getting out.”

“Out?”

“Out of the Navy.” Lifting his gaze, he stares into my eyes. “I’m dating someone new and it’s serious, Ricky.”

I try not to flinch at his use of that nickname. Only my dad calls me Ricky . “Don’t call me that, please.”

“Sorry.” He sighs. “I’m making the choice not to reenlist so I can see where it goes with this girl. I love her. I’m in love with her, all right?”

Wow. “Okay.”

“That’s not all.”

Of course it isn’t. “Because clearly it isn’t enough to drop that bomb? To tell me you’re willing to do something for a woman you’ve known a few months that you wouldn’t do for me in ten years?”

Neil tries to swallow again. I hear his throat click with the effort. “I’ve known her longer than that,” he says softly.

“You have?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s from here.” My head starts to buzz like it’s filled up with locusts. “Someone I know?”

“Yes.” Holding my gaze, he nods slowly. “It’s Annabelle,” he says, as the buzz in my brain gets louder. “Annabelle Hanlon the vet.”