Mourning the death of his only child had kept Sammy up for most of the night. Whenever he drifted off to sleep, his fitful dreams were filled with Bree—weeping, holding their infant son, wrapped in a blue blanket, next to her heart.
The following morning, he sat staring at nothing in particular, his back resting against the headboard of the king-sized bed in his room at Crystal River’s only motel. His eyes stung from lack of sleep and gazing at the television for most of the night.
“All these years…I had a son. A son I never knew existed,” he told John for the hundredth time. “This is my fault, too. Maybe if we’d…”
John blew out a sigh. “Quit beating yourself up. Don’t backslide. Pull your sorry self together. Remember there were two people involved in what happened. Yeah, you were an asshole, but she rabbited. All the shoulda-woulda-coulda in the world cannot change what happened.” He poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Sammy. “You look like shit. And if I’m not mistaken, you’re still wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday.” He pointed at Sammy’s feet. “You didn’t even take off your damn shoes.”
Sammy stood, glared at John then said, “Pack it up. We’re heading out.”
John didn’t budge. “Lemme give you some advice, Sammy. In all the years we’ve known each other, you’ve never stopped loving this woman, even though you hated her at times for leaving you. If you go now, you’ll be doing exactly what she did. Walking out on something that could have been. Do you want to spend the rest of your life looking for another Bree? You found the real thing. Don’t blow it. Go to her.”
Sammy trudged to the window. He pushed back the drapes to let in the early morning sunlight but couldn’t face the day. He closed his eyes. “I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t. A lot of pain on both sides. I get that. Why don’t you be the bigger person for once in your life? Why don’t you make the first move?”
Except for the bomb she’d dropped at the cemetery yesterday, in the short time he’d spent with her, he’d relieved every memory of their passionate young love—and he beat himself senseless over how he’d managed to screw up everything in one reckless, foolish moment, thirty years ago.
John was right. All these years, there was no one but Bree.
Only Bree.
He reached out his arm toward John. “Hand me my phone.”
* * *
Beat up from a horrible sleepless night, Bree lay in bed replaying Sammy’s reaction to hearing the secret she’d harbored for thirty years. Her hurt and humiliation at finding him in another woman’s arms had turned into hatred and resentment. She should have told him sooner. How? Oh, by the way, we had a son, but he di—
Tears streamed down her face. “My baby.” He’d been so weak, so tiny, so precious. After all these years, she still grieved her infant’s death. She’d lost her only son. Now, after years of burying both love and hurt, she’d surely lost his father.
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. Hiding from her past—and Sammy—should have freed her to move onto the next chapter in her life. But she had underestimated the power of the love they’d once shared and now she hungered for his touch, for the mere sight of him. Damn! She hated herself for wanting him so badly. Especially now.
Her cell phone buzzed, causing it to skitter across her nightstand. Curious who was calling at eight o’clock in the morning, she snatched the noisy culprit. Marie’s name showed up on Caller ID.
“Good morning,” Bree whispered in a raspy voice, unrecognizable to her own ears. After assuring her daughter that she was all right, she accepted an invitation from Andy to come over for brunch. Marie explained that he was learning to make waffles and wanted his grandma to sample the first one. Bree could never turn down a request from her grandson, but today, she almost had.
After showering, she slipped on a pair of white capris and a turquoise T-shirt. She fastened her damp hair into a twist, did the best she could to cover the dark circles under her eyes, then headed over to Marie’s for the impromptu brunch.
At the front door, she adjusted the sunglasses she wore to hide her puffy eyelids—the result of too many tears, too much wine, and too little sleep.
As soon as she rapped on the door, it opened. Marie scooped Bree into a tight hug. “I’m so glad you could make it on such short notice. Go right on back, Mom. Everything’s on the patio. I’ll be there in a minute.”
When she stepped across the threshold, the aroma of waffles and bacon wafted toward her.
“Hurry, Grandma, before the waffles get cold.”
“Something sure smells good, Andy,” she lied. She couldn’t stomach waffles, butter, and bacon. The last thing she wanted to do was eat, so even comfort food smelled unappetizing.
Seated in his regular spot, Andy pointed at the heaping platter of waffles in the middle of the picnic table. “Look, Grandma. I even cooked some.” He patted the chair next to him. “Sit here, Grandma.”
She stared at the solitary waffle resting in the middle of her plate.
“That’s the first one I made. I saved it for you.”
Tears welled, threatening to spill down her cheeks, but she couldn’t risk ruining Andy’s brunch; she managed to blink them back. “Oh, Andy. That’s the nicest thing you could have done.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek.
Andy beamed. “Aw, it wasn’t hard, Grandma. Waffles are easy to cook.”
“I’m sure they are.” She started to sit, but stopped when her focus zoomed in on two extra place settings.
“Why are there six place settings? Are you expecting someone else, Marie?” she called over her shoulder. “A couple of my friends are joining us,” Marie answered. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Before she had a chance to take her assigned seat, she sensed someone standing behind her.
“Bree?”
Sammy. Her heartbeat skidded to a stop. “What are you doing here?”
“I was invited.”
Andy!
She whirled to see Sammy, dressed head to toe in black, holding two bouquets of flowers. Red roses and daisies.
“This one’s for you.” He handed her the roses.
Bree brought the bouquet closer, inhaling its sweet fragrance. She whispered, “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
“So are you.” His fingers grazed her cheek. Holding the second bouquet to his heart, he said, “And these are for our son.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Sammy.”
“I’d like to put these on his grave. Will you come with me? I’d like us to visit our son together.”
Marie dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Go ahead, Mom. Brunch can wait.”
“Would you put these in water, please?” Handing Marie her roses, Bree rested her fingertips on Sammy’s warm, hard chest then met his tender gaze. “Have you forgiven me for leaving?”
“Only if you forgive me for chasing you away.”
* * *
Together, they visited their son’s grave.
Carefully, Sammy placed the bouquet of daisies near the headstone. He stood and put his arm around Bree’s shoulders.
She hugged him around his waist. With her head resting on his broad chest, they stood in silence and stared at the fresh flowers on their baby boy’s grave.
Sammy cleared his throat. “You’re wrong about one thing. It’s not too late for us. Look Bree, I screwed up. Screwed up real bad. I was young and…unfortunately, not too bright. I shouldn’t have strayed. Should have stayed with you…stuck by you. Instead, you suffered alone, while I was out doing…I let you down. I let success go to my head. But I never stopped loving you. Never. And if you’ll have me, I’d like to another chance at what we had.” He hesitated. “Will you take me back? Give me—us—another chance?”
She gazed into his eyes through a veil of tears. “I wish we could go back. But we can’t. So much time has passed since—”
“Then let’s not waste any more of it.” He lifted her chin with one hand, and with the other, he wiped away a tear that rolled down her cheek. “We can do this, Bree,” he whispered.
Maybe a renewed relationship would work, after all. Neither of them were kids anymore. They knew the risks of trying again. But Sammy always did have a way of speaking to her heart, which made denying him anything nearly impossible. She stood on her tiptoes and wrapped both arms around his neck. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“So they tell me.” He kissed her lips softly, deepened the kiss for a moment then pulled back. “Now that we’ve found each other, how about we get the rest of our lives started? Today. This very second. And this time, we’ll do it right. We’ll do it together. Deal?” He leaned in for another kiss.
Her stomach somersaulted and she backed away. “Hold on. You’re moving too fast. How about letting me think about it?” Renewing a relationship was one thing, but a full-on commitment? Considering how many years had passed since they were a couple—and how badly it ended—she wasn’t ready for anything permanent. Yet.
“I’ll be flying back home tomorrow. Before I go, I’d like to know where I stand. Where this is going.”
“You’re leaving tomorrow?”
He nodded, his beautiful eyes pleading, “Can you tell me if I have a chance with you? Any chance…at all?”
She shrugged. “Um…possibly…probably.”
“I’ll take it.” He bracketed her face in his hands and kissed her. “I’ll take anything you want to give me.” Slipping his arms around her body, he kissed her again. Thoroughly.
Ahhhh. This she remembered. As if no time had passed, they renewed their passion with surprising vigor. Long moments passed wrapped in his embrace before they seemed able to separate themselves.
“So we’ve got a deal?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.
Struggling to catch her breath, she answered, “Deal.” Then she kissed him back—so hard, so completely, she seemed to melt in his arms. Which was right where she wanted to be. Where she belonged.
Sammy broke their embrace. His eyes dark with passion, he took in their surroundings. “It might be a good idea if we take this reunion elsewhere.”
“And I know just the place.”