He nodded, his grin starting to quirk. “And here?” he asked.
“Here I at least have hope,” she said, stepping toward him. “And that’s a pretty good feeling. And…I have you.”
He smiled broadly, all the way up to his eyes. “You sure about this?”
Maybe she was foolish, or maybe, this time, she was right to listen to her heart, because it had never felt more full, or more sure, and if she couldn’t trust herself, how could she ever trust anyone else?
“So I was thinking that maybe we could strike an arrangement,” she said, struggling to hide her grin.
“Are you speaking to my professional side or my personal side?” His eyes twinkled with amusement.
“I was thinking that maybe you could help fix up the house, and in exchange, I could help you get your stable up and running.”
He looked at her in disbelief, and then burst out laughing. “You? I saw you on that horse, if you’ve forgotten.”
“I’m not saying I’d be a riding instructor.” She pursed her lips. “But I used to work in advertising. I know how to market a place like this. I know how to get the word out, and I definitely know the people of this island, because I’m one of them.”
His eyes were steady, as unwavering as his words.
“Why are you doing all this for me?”
She shrugged. “Because we’re friends, and that’s what friends do.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, taking her hand and stepping toward her. “We’re not friends, Gemma.”
He was close, so close now that she could see the freckles on his nose and cheeks from too many days in the sun. See the golden highlights that streaked his brown hair. The little scar under his right eye that told a story that she didn’t yet know, but wanted to. Badly.
“We’re not?” she whispered, swallowing hard.
He shook his head and reached up to push a loose strand of hair from her cheek. “We’re a hell of a lot more than friends.”
She grinned as he wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her close and kissed her in a way that she had never been kissed and had been waiting to be kissed…even if she hadn’t known it until now.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hope
Hope stood at the gate of the Lakeside Inn, knowing the chances were high that John was inside at this very moment, if not in his room, then maybe in the lobby, or in the dining room enjoying breakfast—it was early. This conversation couldn’t wait any longer. She’d waited a week to tell him what she’d known in her heart she would tell him all along.
She let out a shaky breath, asked herself for the hundredth time if she was really going to do this, and then, mostly because a few of the guests had started to stare at her as they waited for her to move to the side so they could pass through the gate, she began to walk toward the inn.
The cobblestone path to the front porch was flanked with flower beds, and near the door was a bike stand, full of mint and teal and hot pink cruisers. She’d recommend keeping all of that. She’d recommend keeping a lot of things the same, actually. That was what made people come back to this hotel year after year. It wasn’t the fresh décor they sought, or modern amenities, it was the nostalgia. The reassurance that came with knowing that while everything else in life moved quickly and moved forward, that some things would remain the same, and that there was one place they could always come back to and know that it was just as they remembered it would be.
Inside the lobby, people were already filling the couches and the chairs, and there was a lively buzz to the room. It smelled of coffee and the warm cinnamon rolls that the inn was famous for, not just on the island but all over the Midwest—people brought boxes home and froze them. She knew, because her mother did this every year. And Hope would probably have done the same, if things hadn’t gone the way they had these past few weeks.
Her heart was heavy as she walked through the lobby and into the dining room, but there was no sign of John. No warm smile and sincere eyes. She decided to have one last sweep of the back porch before she pulled his card from her pocket and tried his phone. But then she saw him, on one of the deck chairs looking out over the grounds. His laptop was open on a table in front of him, but when she called out his name, he closed it.
He grinned, and just like that, every part of her turned from heaviness to joy. But it was fleeting, so fleeting, and she hoped, that like this hotel, it was something that she could hold onto, in her heart. Because the rest of him, she had to let go.
She blew out a breath and walked toward him. She closed her eyes when he stood to greet her with a peck on the cheek, and then she took the chair beside him when he motioned for her to sit down.
“Coffee?” he asked, motioning to his own cup.
She shook her head. She needed to get her words out. She needed to say it, because it had to be said, even if it hurt, and even if, one day, she knew, she might look back and wonder if she’d made the right decision.
“I can’t stay long,” she said.
His expression changed from one of expectation to one of resigned acceptance. “I see.”
“I’m going back to Chicago, John,” she said. And even though she knew he was from Chicago, too, she knew that she had been direct. She was going back to her life. To her husband. To her family. She’d already told Sheila, who took the news in stride. She’d speak to Darcy personally before she left, with some tips, of course, and an invitation to visit her when Darcy was in town near her daughter.
But this was the hard part.
He nodded. “Is it okay to say that I’m disappointed?”
“I didn’t want to lead you on—”
He held up a hand. “You didn’t.”
She hadn’t. She knew that. But she also knew that the bond they’d formed had happened all on its own. They were two people that clicked. Maybe it was the circumstances. Or maybe in another lifetime things might have been different.
“Evan came to the island the day that I was here. That’s why I haven’t given you an answer yet about the project.” She looked around, the vast white porch, to the lush green grass and the flowering trees, to the lake, vast and blue and calm. “You offered me a whole new life. A life that I really thought I wanted.” And maybe, in her heart, still did. But her choice was made. It had been made a long time ago.
“I love my family,” she said. “It’s not always easy, and it’s not always perfect, but I’m not willing to let it all go.”
“Some things are worth holding on,” John said, nodding slowly.
“Maybe I’ll…” She trailed off. What was she saying? Maybe she’d see him in Chicago? That one day she’d be walking down the street and their eyes would meet and…no.
He seemed to know what she was about to say because he said, “Actually, I’m staying on the island. This inn isn’t just something I’m investing for my company. This is a personal investment. I’m going to take over the inn and stay here.”
She blinked and took a step back, looking around her in wonder. “I hadn’t realized that.”
He gave a little laugh. “I hadn’t either. But I’m happy here. And I think this is where I belong.”