Chapter Eighteen

The next day Cora sat at the kitchen table and tried her hardest to concentrate on fixing her manuscript. Ever since she’d found that photo of Trent in his real mother’s arms, she’d been fighting the urge to confess. It felt like a betrayal to keep it a secret.

How did you feel when you overheard him talking with Liv about your life?

Not great.

It wasn’t fun to be the object of someone’s gossip, and she most certainly didn’t want him to feel like she’d been spying. Or prying. Cora sighed. If only she had a crystal ball that would tell her the best course of action. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him…

No matter how much she tried to come to a conclusion on that problem, her mind spun around and around like a hamster wheel. Moving fast but going nowhere.

Maybe part of it was selfish. She didn’t want to lose the time she had left with Trent. When she was with him…

Everything felt right.

Even her novel was flowing. Maybe it was all the sexy reading sessions with Trent. Maybe it was fresh air and sunshine suddenly reviving her creative juices. Maybe it was being away from all the toxic bullshit in New York.

“How about option D, all of the above?” she muttered to herself.

Whatever the reason, she was happy for the boost of creativity. And to make things even better, she’d finally figured out what was missing from her story…romance! Reading to Trent had sparked the idea that there was a reason her main characters were always at odds. They were hot for each other, and totally mismatched in the best way possible.

Romance had been lacking in her own life for so long—even while she was with her ex—that she hadn’t even seen it as a solution until now. But Trent had changed that. Her lips quirked into a smile as she watched him working. He was in jeans and a tight white T-shirt that showed his muscles off to perfection as he used a screwdriver to change the knobs on a big cabinet sitting alongside the far wall of the living room.

“Stop perving on me,” he said over his shoulder. “I caught you looking in the mirror. You’re supposed to be working.”

She laughed. “Then stop bending over. That peachy ass is a distraction.”

“I’m being objectified right now, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, and you’re loving it, too.” She dragged her gaze back to her laptop. Her manuscript was now a sea of Track Changes as she tried to fit her new romance plotline into the story.

Instead of reading to Trent from her latest romance book, she had read to him from the book she was writing. It had been terrifying to share her words with him, to expose something that was part of her. She’d had good feedback before from her professor, but her father’s rejection had dinted her confidence. Yet Trent had looked at her with wide, smoky eyes and told her that she was talented and gifted and that her future was bright. She wanted to believe him with all her heart.

But what if her father still thought her book was unpublishable?

The cursor on her computer screen blinked at her. Every time she thought about her dad reading her manuscript again, she seized up. She wanted so badly for him to love it. If he let her join the agency as a client rather than an employee… God, that would be like a sign that he thought she had what it took. That he was proud of her. That he wanted to see her succeed.

But if he rejected her work again…

Then you’ll try again. You’ll keep trying until you get it right. Because only quitters lose.

Cora might not be the best at a lot of things, but she didn’t give up easily.

“How’s it going?” Trent asked as he slid one of the drawers back into place.

“Good. I think the romance subplot is exactly what it needed.”

“Lucky you’ve got some inspiration for that.” He winked at her, and a lock of his sandy hair flopped over his forehead in a way that was so rakishly handsome, it could have been staged.

“Yeah, that book series I’m reading is great,” she teased.

“Hey! I was talking about me.”

“I guess you’re okay, too.” She grinned.

He slapped a hand to his chest. “You wound me. I thought that thing I did with my tongue last night was very worthy of some character inspiration.”

Cora flushed and ducked her eyes, pressing a cold glass of water to her heated cheeks. In the throes of passion with Trent, she didn’t feel inhibited at all. In fact, he brought out a wildness in her that she didn’t even know existed. But talking about it in broad daylight was a whole other thing.

“It was great,” she admitted. “More than great.”

“You’d better dedicate that book to me.” He stood and shoved the screwdriver into his back pocket. “I want to see the words to Trent, thank you for the orgasms right there in the front of the book.”

“Want to be commemorated in print, huh?”

He swaggered over to her, with that panty-melting roll of his hips that mimicked the way he made love—slow and liquid and so damn hot, it singed her brain cells. “I want you to remember me every time you open the cover of that book.”

“What if I don’t get published?” She bit down on her lip.

“Then I’ll come to New York and tell each of the publishing houses that they’ve clearly never seen talent before.”

A smile split across her face. “How do you know I’m any good?”

“Because passion shines out of you, Cora. It would be mighty unfair for someone to have that much passion without any talent to back it up.” He planted a hand down on the table. “Finish the book. Send it back to your dad, and I will eat my own hat if he doesn’t love it.”

“I hope he does.”

“He will.” Trent held out a hand. “But first, I’m taking you out for lunch. I’m starving.”

As if on cue, Cora’s stomach grumbled. “Looks like I am, too. What do you have in mind?”

There was a sparkle to Trent’s eye that told Cora he had something planned. Maybe a nice restaurant, or maybe a picnic on the beach. Being with Trent meant expecting anything at all times—he was prone to doing things on a whim, without planning. It was the total opposite of dating Alex, who scheduled every moment of his day from sunup to sundown.

You’re not dating Trent, remember? When is that going to stick?

Only it felt like they were dating. They made love, kissed and touched without fear or inhibition. They talked about real things—like her literary dreams and all the things he wanted to have in his perfect house (deep tub and heated bathroom floors, yes please!). They cared about each other.

Too much. You’re not supposed to care about him.

But how could she not? He treated her with kindness and consideration and a permanent mischievous twinkle in his eye. Around him she was lighter, unburdened. A fling didn’t give a person those things.

A fling didn’t change you.

Absently, she reached down to where the caterpillar was etched into her skin. Was she really changing now? Or would this lightness evaporate when she went back home, leaving nothing but a hazy memory of the person she was here?

Can you trust him?

She didn’t know. Could she even trust herself? Also an unknown. She’d made so many mistakes in the past, but she was still here. Still working. Still trying.

They ducked into his bedroom and changed, and she had to wriggle out of his grip, convinced if his eager lips touched hers, then they wouldn’t make it to lunch at all. To teach Trent a lesson, she put on her most enticing outfit—a short dress made of soft black silk with a ruffle across the bust and a tie at the waist that always made her feel like a million dollars.

Trent let out a long, low whistle as she slipped a pair of flat sandals onto her feet. “Maybe I shouldn’t take you out for lunch after all.”

“Too much?”

“I’m worried you’ll give everyone in town whiplash and then we’ll have a class action on our hands.”

They walked out to the car, teasing each other and holding hands. Trent agreed not to blindfold her but still wouldn’t give up what he planned for lunch. It wasn’t until they turned down a familiar street that a knot formed in Cora’s stomach.

“We’re having lunch at your parents’ house?” She blinked. This was not what she’d expected.

She’d had a very brief introduction to Mr. and Mrs. Walters the day they’d almost been caught getting photos for the album, but Trent had whisked her away before they had time to talk much. Now he was bringing her back. Was this an “official” introduction to the parents? They hadn’t talked about where this thing between them was heading, but it seemed…serious.

After all, you didn’t introduce a fling to your parents.

“Trust me,” he said. It was a weird echo of the thoughts that had been swirling in her head back at the house. Did you trust a fling?

This isn’t a fling and you know it.

But if it wasn’t that, and yet it wasn’t a real relationship…then what was it? Cora felt a panicky feeling take hold of her chest, squeezing like a fist determined to crush the air in her lungs. She wasn’t ready for this.

Hell, she’d chosen the wrong damn dress. It was too short and too sexy and too silky. Oh my God, they’d probably think she was some big-city floozy, flashing her legs all over their quaint small town.

Calm down. One, this isn’t Victorian England. There’s nothing wrong with showing off your legs. Two, it’s lunch. You can handle lunch.

“Cora.” Trent laid a hand on her arm. “Stop freaking out. I promise you’ll have a good time.”

Why was he doing this? She wasn’t ready for other people to know her business again.

“I don’t know about this.” She shook her head. “I…”

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.” When he said things like that, with such clarity and such resonance, it made her heart flutter. Trent made her feel so seen. So important. “Please trust me.”

She nodded. “I do trust you.”

When she said the words aloud, she knew it was true. Trent hadn’t done anything but good things for her, so why would he turn into an asshole now?

“Good.” His smile was like pure sunshine. “Come on, then.”

They got out of the car, and Cora forced herself not to tug at her dress. The breeze swirled the hem around her thighs, and her loose hair ruffled around her shoulders. Trent’s parents would have to take her as she came.

He jabbed at the doorbell, but when no one came to greet them immediately, he stuck his key into the lock. The door popped open, and he motioned for her to go ahead of him. The entry was quiet, without a sound of life inside. She’d expected something—music or footsteps or the clatter of dishes in the kitchen. But the place was silent as a tomb.

“Go ahead,” Trent said, closing the door behind them. “Dad’s probably asleep in the lounge.”

Her sandals slapped against the tiled floor, echoing eerily in the house. What on earth was going on?

She rounded the corner, with Trent close behind, and all of a sudden there was a booming surprise! Cora shrieked, startled at the sudden noise. A dozen smiling faces shouted her name and cheered, blowing party horns and clapping. A shiny silver banner displaying the words Happy Birthday hung across the wall. Cora spotted the cricket team, Trent’s parents, and a few new faces as well as a collection of adorable black puppies.

“Oh my gosh.” Her head swung to Trent. “How did you know?”

She hadn’t said a word to him. Hadn’t wanted to make a big deal.

“I overheard you talking to Liv. This is a party to make up for all the ones you never had as a kid.” He slipped an arm around her shoulder. “It’s a proper kid’s birthday party. We have Aussie party food, a jumping castle, and all the red food coloring your child heart desires.”

Tears immediately sprang to her eyes. Mortified, she blinked them back. “Oh my God.”

He kissed her cheek. “Happy birthdays. Plural.”

The crowd came forward, and Maddy shoved Trent out of the way and threw her arms around Cora’s shoulders. There was a chorus of people shouting well wishes and even a table with brightly wrapped presents. The whole scene was totally and utterly overwhelming.

In fact, it was almost TV sitcom perfect.

An older woman came forward. It was Trent’s mother, Melanie, and she had a warm smile on her face. “I know we didn’t get to talk much the other day, but we’re so happy to meet one of Liv’s friends. She told us all about how you were letting her stay in your apartment for her internship and what a good friend you’ve been, Skyping all the time and checking up on her.”

Cora wasn’t sure she could speak for all the emotion in the back of her throat.

“It’s so good to have you in our home.” Then Melanie leaned forward and embraced Cora in a perfumed hug. “Come on out back, we’ve got all the food set up, and the birthday girl always gets first dibs.”

The group trailed out into the backyard, and what Cora found took her breath away. Trent hadn’t been joking about the bouncing castle—it was big and yellow and had Big Kid Bounce written on the side. Clearly there was a market for adult bouncing castles. A long table was set up with all kinds of food and drinks. There was a cocktail station, some kind of a game with bats and a ball on string.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said.

“It was all his idea, you know,” Melanie said. “He said no one should be deprived of a birthday party. That’s my son in a nutshell; he always wants everyone to be included.”

Son. The word stuck in Cora’s mind. How could such a kind, warmhearted woman keep such a secret? Head swirling, Cora didn’t have time to process her thoughts because Maddy sidled up close to her along with Dean and Nick.

“Right,” Nick said, rubbing his hands together. “It’s time for Aussie party foods 101.”

Cora brushed her worries away, determined not to let Trent’s kind gesture go to waste. “I’m ready to learn.”

“Party pies and sausage rolls.” He pointed to the first plate. “An Aussie classic. They must be eaten with tomato sauce.”

“Or dead horse,” Cora said, winking at Dean, who pumped his fist into the air.

“Number two is fairy bread, aka white sliced bread with hundreds and thousands.”

Cora looked on at the little white bread triangles that were covered in round sprinkles. “You feed this to small children?”

“Why not? It’s got all your essential nutrients,” Dean said. “Sugar, simple carbohydrates, whatever the hell margarine is made out of.”

“Chemicals,” Maddy supplied with a shake of her head. “And it’s definitely not an everyday kind of food. Special occasions only.”

“Next is…” Dean made a drumroll noise. “Vegemite.”

“I’ve heard about this.” Cora wrinkled her nose as the traffic-sign-yellow label on the jar of mysterious dark brown stuff. “Tell me, do Aussies really eat this or is it a mean prank you play on tourists?”

Nick gasped and pressed a hand to his chest. The gesture was so similar to what Trent had done before they left the house that she had to laugh. “Excuse me,” he said, “but Vegemite is a national delicacy.”

Maddy wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I’d call it a delicacy.”

“What is it made out of?” Cora watched as Nick unscrewed the lid off the jar.

“Yeast.”

Cora blinked. “Yeast?”

“Yep, yeast.” Nick proceeded to get a piece of bread and smooth a generous layer across the surface, which caused an argument to erupt. Apparently, there was indecision about the correct way to consume the spread—with butter or without, how much to put on, whether you toast the bread or not, cheese or no cheese.

Unable to help laughing, Cora watched the friendly yet spirited argument spread to more and more people, who came to see what the commotion was about. There were definite camps, Team Toast and Team Cheese and Team Butter Is For Quitters. Cora felt like she was getting a lifetime’s worth of Aussie education in one hit, and she couldn’t remember ever having a birthday party that made her feel so happy and so included before.

As Dean tried to wrestle the Vegemite jar out of Nick’s hands, Cora’s gaze slid across the yard to where Trent stood, watching her. The corner of his lip twitched in amusement at the scene before him, and he looked so incredibly loving and indulgent that Cora knew this was exactly what he’d hoped for.

She mouthed a quick thank you, her cheeks already hurting from smiling so wide. And when he blew her a kiss, Cora pinched herself. He was too good to be true. Way too good to be true.

So good, she knew she couldn’t believe it.

…

A few hours into the party, the mood had mellowed out perfectly. People were chilling around the yard, some sitting on the grass while others had dragged the outdoor chairs into a big cluster around one end of the table where all the food was.

Cora was full, everywhere. Full heart. Full belly. She nursed a plastic cup with the remains of one of the cocktails, the ice creating condensation on the glass that was pleasantly cooling to her hands. Skye and Maddy sat with her.

“You have a…” Skye leaned forward and brushed something from Cora’s cheek. “There we go. You had sprinkles on your face.”

“Thanks.”

“So, are you missing back home?” Maddy asked.

“I’m enjoying having a break from the real world,” Cora replied, although in the back of her mind, the answer was a resounding no with multiple exclamation points. The knowledge of that sat unevenly in her stomach, but she brushed it to one side. Who wanted to return home from a vacation? Nobody. That was totally normal. “It’s nice to take some time away.”

“I hear you.” Skye leaned back and rested on her elbows, her face tipped up to the sun. Her blond hair hung in two long braids down her back. “I’m well overdue for a holiday. But damn that overtime is too good to pass up.”

“Skye’s a workaholic,” Maddy added. “To her detriment, I might add.”

“Nah, I’m just being fiscally responsible.” She grinned and put her sunglasses on as the sun shifted out from behind a cloud. “Besides, I got a little one to take care of. That mouth isn’t going to feed itself.”

Cora blinked. “You’re a mom?”

“Yeah, I got a little girl named Annemarie.” A dark expression filtered over Skye’s face. “I’m lucky to have family help me out, because it’s not like her dad stuck around to give a shit about her.”

In moments where Cora was trying to find the good in her situation, she was thankful that Alex broke things off before they got married and had a baby like she was planning. Things were always so much more complicated when children got involved.

“I’m so sorry,” Cora said.

“Don’t be.” Skye shrugged. “I don’t need a man to complete my life. My family is all I need. Without them…I have no idea what I’d do. But it makes me sad that my baby girl won’t get to know her dad.”

For some reason, that comment made her think of Trent—he’d never know his real mother. Did he even know what he was missing? Or had his parents kept it a secret for that specific reason? Hard to miss someone if you didn’t know you’d had them in the first place.

She couldn’t let go of the memory of that photo. It was stuck in her head, like a slide image that refused to budge. A puzzle with a piece missing. A mystery with no conclusion.

It’s none of your business. Maybe they all talked about it and everything is fine. Just because your family is all kinds of messed up doesn’t mean everyone else’s is.

“Anyway,” Skye said. “This isn’t good birthday party chatter. We need something more positive.”

“Maybe Cora can tell us how the romance novels are going,” Maddy said. “Like the one Trent bought her for her birthday.”

Skye’s eyebrows shot up so fast that Cora was surprised they didn’t launch right off her head. About an hour into the party, Trent had pulled her inside the house to give her the present he’d bought her—a romance novel by a local author that had been signed in sparkly pink pen. He’d kissed her cheek so sweetly and told her he wanted to know as soon as she read it, in case there was any “inspiration” to be found inside.

“Excuse me, what?” Skye shook her head. “Maybe I’m not hearing right. Trent purchased a book? Like one of those things with a front cover and a back cover and pages full of words in between?”

Maddy grinned. “Yep, one of those exactly.”

“Trent Walters, the man who once petitioned to get out of English class because quote, ‘nobody cares what some dead dude thinks about life.’ Spoiler alert, that dead dude was Shakespeare.”

“Oh God, I remember that. Mr. Langly was pissed.” Maddy slapped her thigh, laughing. “Typical Trent. He’d say anything to get a rise out of a teacher.”

Cora cringed but couldn’t help laughing, imagining Trent doing exactly that. It was so him. “I imagine Shakespeare is turning over in his grave at being called a dude.”

“Well, I’m impressed.” Skye sat up and brushed an ant off her leg. “He must be even more smitten than I first thought.”

“Than you first thought?” The question popped out before she had adequate time to consider the consequences of encouraging this conversation.

“Skye called it that first week, when Trent brought you to cricket,” Maddy said.

“I sure did. I said I hadn’t seen Trent taken by a woman like that in quite some time. Probably not since…” She made a noise of disgust. “Rochelle.”

“His ex?” Even thinking about his ex—about the photo that was like looking into a mirror—made her stomach churn.

“Yeah. I never liked her, to be honest. Even Maddy wasn’t a fan, and this little marshmallow likes everyone.”

Maddy made an indignant squeak. “I do not like everyone. I have discerning taste, thank you very much.”

Cora stifled a laugh. Despite Maddy’s uber-cool appearance, she totally was a marshmallow. Which was exactly what Cora liked about her.

“Oh yeah?” Skye teased. “Who don’t you like?”

“Well…I had a rude customer the other day. I didn’t like him very much.” Maddy wrinkled her nose, and her piercing winked in the sun. “But he did seem like he was having a rough day, so maybe he’s not normally like that. Oh, and I never liked that dog that Greg used to have. He growled at me once.”

“Now you’re reaching.” Skye caught Cora’s eye and shook her head. “100 percent marshmallow.”

Maddy made a hmph sound. “Excuse me for being nice.”

“Anyway, I would like to state for the record that I was correct. Trent does have a crush on Cora.” Skye grinned. “Clearly he has a type. You look exactly like his ex, you know.”

Maddy swiped at Skye and rolled her eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What?” She shrugged. “It’s true.”

“Please excuse my friend, Cora. She’s got a big mouth.” Maddy rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “And you’re nothing like Rochelle, so it doesn’t mean a thing.”

“I saw a photo of her,” Cora admitted. “It was a little weird, but he said that had nothing to do with…”

Shit. Two pairs of hawk eyes were trained intently on her. Now she’d done it. Cora and Trent hadn’t even set any boundaries about what they were going to tell people, if anything. Likely he’d want to keep it a secret…at least she thought he would. And she wanted to keep it a secret…didn’t she?

She knew one thing for certain—she didn’t want it to get back to Liv without Cora being the one to tell her.

“Go on,” Skye said.

“Nothing to do with…” Dammit. Her brain was like a spinning top, going round and round and round without any signs of stopping. “Uh…”

“Oh my God, you’re fucking him.”

“Skye! Bloody hell, you’re so blunt.” Maddy snorted. “And can you not say stuff like that with his family around? Geez.”

Skye chuckled. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this, Cora. The gossip gods demand their sacrifice.”

“You don’t have to tell us anything,” Maddy said to Cora, then she turned to Skye. “And you, you’re as subtle as a sledgehammer and nosier than my grandmother.”

“I like to think of myself more as a pickaxe, thank you very much. Precise and lethal.” Skye sniffed. “And don’t you dare say a word against your grandmother—that woman is a national treasure.”

The friendly, affectionate banter tugged on something deep in Cora’s chest. How was this town so perfect? People seemed to thrive here, to build lasting relationships and show genuine care toward one another. They were relaxed and happy and able to enjoy the time they had on this earth.

You’re romanticizing this place, like how people romanticize Manhattan.

It was true. Outsiders thought her city was a wonderland, a magical place of New Year’s wishes and Christmas miracles and meet-cutes on every corner. But she knew the city to be a cold, silver landscape of shiny, beautiful things and locked doors. Of secrets and betrayals.

But what could Cora do about that? Manhattan was her home. Her family was there. Even if she’d had enough of her mother’s drama, she still loved her father and wanted a relationship with him. She wanted to cling to her belief that she could have that perfect family if only she kept trying…

You’ve tried so damned hard already.

But anything worth having was worth fighting for, right? Just like with her novel. Sure, writing challenged her and hearing her father’s rejection was difficult…but she wasn’t about to give up. She wasn’t going to quit. Which meant she would be heading home to New York once her vacation was over, and she would keep trying to impress her dad with her dedication and hard work.

“So?” Skye prompted.

“It’s…” Cora sighed. “It’s a vacation romance, nothing more.”

Every word felt like a burning lie. Her connection with Trent was like nothing she’d ever experienced, but letting herself revel in a fantasy about them falling love and making a life in this cute little town would do nothing but end up with her getting hurt. Even if he wanted her to stay—which she highly doubted—she wasn’t about to give up on her family.

She had to go home.

“He seems to really like you,” Maddy said quietly.

“I like him too; he’s a great guy. But I’m not looking for anything,” Cora said firmly. “I have a life in New York that I need to get back to.”

Neither Maddy nor Skye said anything in return, but they exchanged a look that Cora couldn’t quite decipher. Maybe they didn’t believe her. It didn’t matter, one way or the other. She couldn’t let herself get caught up in this place, no matter how much the warm sun and friendly people and sexy men had gotten under her skin.

Sexy man. Singular.

Trent was a great guy and an amazing lover—but that’s where she would have to leave it. Her life plans didn’t include uprooting herself for a relationship.

Which meant her sexy Aussie fling would have to stay exactly where it was.