Page 187 of The Havenport Collection

Sylvie

W e held hands as we walked down the frozen streets, my heart soaring.

“I can’t believe we only have a week until I leave.”

Wyatt put his arm around me. “I plan on spending every single minute with you.”

I looked up at his handsome, honest face. I was giddy. This night was so much more than I ever could have imagined. “Then you better pack a bag, because I’m not letting you out of my bed.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

We walked through town, arm in arm, enjoying crisp air and the bright moonlight. This wasn’t just a fling. It was something real and lasting. I was falling in love with Wyatt.

But could it work? Could I leave and maintain this connection with him?

Things would be different after I moved. I’d be super busy training and then adjusting to my new job. I’d be working during the weekdays, and Wyatt primarily worked on weekends.

Would he want that? A part-time, long-distance girlfriend? Someone who popped by once in a while?

The longer we walked, the more I started to doubt things. My mind began to spin with the possibilities and the outcomes, and suddenly my chest felt tight.

This feeling, this incredible combination of lust and admiration and affection? It couldn’t last forever, and it certainly wouldn’t last long once the cold, hard realities of a long-distance relationship set in. If things went further, got more serious, the eventual heartbreak would be crushing.

I pushed the thoughts out of my mind as we paused on the pier, looking out at the ocean.

Fishing boats, docked for the night, bobbed along in the moonlight.

Wyatt put his arm around me, pulling me close, and I was overcome with affection.

I was going to enjoy every second I had with this wonderful person.

“Sylvie.” I heard a sharp voice and turned to see my parents walking toward us, bundled up in their winter coats.

My heart sank as they approached. I stepped away from Wyatt, feeling like a teenager who has just been caught making out under the bleachers. I was a grown woman, and yet they had the power to make me feel so small.

“Hi, Mom and Dad,” I said a little too enthusiastically. They walked toward us, eyeing Wyatt suspiciously. They were both dressed smartly in wool coats and scarves, and my mother had a tasteful beret on her head.

Wyatt broke the silence first. “Hello. I’m Wyatt Ford.” He reached his hand out, vigorously shaking my dad’s.

“I’m so sorry,” I sputtered. “Mom and Dad, this is Wyatt.” I gestured awkwardly. “Wyatt, these are my parents, Richard and Diane Miller.”

“I’m Sylvie’s boyfriend. It is such a pleasure to meet you,” Wyatt said, smiling broadly.

My mother took his hand, eyeing him up and down, his shaggy hair, full beard, and wide smile clearly offending her.

I wasn’t in the habit of introducing my dates to my parents, and I squirmed.

The last thing I needed was their judgment to ruin what had been such a perfect night.

“We just finished dinner,” my mother said, wringing her hands in her calfskin gloves.

“We’re headed over to Nonna’s Kitchen for an espresso. You know your father loves the pistachio biscotti.”

I nodded politely, wanting to throw myself into the ocean to escape the awkwardness.

My father’s eyes narrowed. “Sylvie hasn’t mentioned a boyfriend, has she, Diane?” His voice was sharp, and I immediately busied myself studying the toes of my boots.

“It’s only been a few weeks,” Wyatt offered.

“I saw her play at the brewery where I work, and I was blown away by her talent and beauty.” He pulled me close and gave me a squeeze that was intended to be reassuring but made me want to run away even more.

I needed to end this conversation and get Wyatt as far away from my parents as possible.

“She’s very talented,” my mother said, studying Wyatt with thinly veiled disdain.

“She is,” my father replied. “But we’re just so relieved she’s finally getting a real job.” He forced a laugh, and Wyatt’s face fell.

“I think playing, teaching, and writing music are all valid careers,” Wyatt said, pulling himself up to his full, imposing height. “Especially for someone as passionate and gifted as Sylvie.”

My heart clenched with his support. It was one of the things that made me fall so quickly for Wyatt—his unwavering belief in me.

But was that enough? It was one thing to believe I had talent, but quite another to watch me fail over and over again.

Watch years of me being unfulfilled and struggling.

As much as I resented my parents, they had stuck by me through all the ups and downs, helping me find an alternative path.

My father looked Wyatt up and down for a moment, clearly finding him lacking. “I don’t need to be lectured about my daughter’s talent from some…person,” he huffed. “And I hope you’re not interfering with her plans. She has an exciting career ahead of her.”

He turned his attention to me. “Sylvie, sweetheart, I hope you’re not letting this”—he paused, gesturing dismissively at Wyatt—“boyfriend distract you. You have new plans and goals and a lot of work ahead of you.” He gave me a stern look, and I wanted to vomit.

“It’s probably not a great time for a fling,” my mother offered, nodding at my father.

“You are moving on from music. Getting a fresh start.” She gave me a weak smile that made me feel even worse.

Hearing her call Wyatt a “fling” made my blood boil.

I wanted to fling her into the ocean for that comment.

But instead I just stood there, defeated.

There were days I couldn’t decide which I despised more, their pity or their dismissal of my life’s work. But they loved me, and they believed in my future. It may be a future without music, but it was a good, responsible path forward.

I felt Wyatt stiffen beside me, his entire energy changed. “With all due respect, this is not a fling. I’m in love with your daughter. And I support her completely in whatever she wants to do with her life.”

My heart skipped a beat. He was in love with me?

My head spun, making me feel even more nauseated.

I needed to get out of here and think. My parents’ mouths were agape, both clearly shocked and disappointed.

So I pulled Wyatt’s arm before they could respond.

“I don’t want to keep you guys out here in the cold,” I trilled.

“Go enjoy your biscotti. We’ve got to get going. ”

I took off toward town, leaving Wyatt behind as I strode away from my parents as quickly as I could, trying to hold back tears. This was not how I had envisioned introducing Wyatt to my family. The way they looked at him, the way they treated him—it just made me sick.

Wyatt caught up to me as I neared the square. “Sylvie, are you alright?” He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me into his chest.

I choked back my tears and nodded. “Fine.” I was pretty far from fine, but the last thing I wanted to do was sob all over Wyatt and unload almost three decades of parental issues onto him. Especially after the perfect evening we had shared.

“I’m so sorry. That was painful.” He held me close, kissing the top of my head. “I wanted to find a beautiful way to tell you that I'm in love with you. But I was just so angry at the way they spoke to you. My secret’s out, and I don’t regret it.”

I looked up at his kind face. “Thank you, Wyatt,” I said, trying to get myself together. “Thank you for this beautiful night. But I need to go home.”

“Okay, no problem. I’ll walk you.”

I placed my hand on his arm. “No. I need to be alone. I am feeling a lot of things right now and need to make sense of it all.”

Wyatt looked deflated. “Are you sure?”

I shook my head. “It’s only a few blocks. I need to go.”

I turned and started walking. I was afraid to look back at him, afraid to see the pain on his face.

So I left. Alone, confused, and heartbroken.