He couldn’t believe it.
The heartless woman was actually going to Bermuda. Fine.
Before he could leave, Hope raced up in front of him, blocking his escape.
“I know you don’t believe it,” she said with big, sad eyes. “But I wish I hadn’t done it. I wish I’d never lied about who I was. But, Brent? I need you to know—I wasn’t lying about one thing. The feelings I developed for you.”
“What is this, Hope? Some kind of mind game?”
“No, I’m telling the truth.”
“The truth,” he said searingly. “That’s a good one.”
Tears leaked from her eyes. “I know I may have pretended to be Jackie, but everything I said and did was real.”
“Down to the story about the necklace?” he asked, eying it harshly.
“Yeah, down to that.”
“Well then, I’m glad you have it, Hope. At least someone’s going to be your Valentine.” It was a low blow, but she deserved it. She and her sister were without a doubt the most despicable people he’d ever met.
“I can understand why you hate me,” she said, and in that moment, Brent’s heart ached because he understood that he didn’t. He was furious at her for her deception. But hate her? No.
He gazed into her eyes, searching for a glimmer of truth in her soul. For that incredible woman he’d come to know so intimately and love.
And she was there. He could feel her.
He wished to goodness that he didn’t, because that made matters even worse.
“I’ve got to go.”
Then he turned and walked away.
He had no idea whether she’d try to get a last minute ticket and board that plane with Jackie. But he didn’t care.
He did get that he needed time to process things.
He also knew he wasn’t ready to face his family. Well, not all of them, anyway. So he took out his phone and called Derrick to ask if he could come up to his cabin for a couple of days.
“Yeah, man. Of course.” Derrick hesitated a beat. When he spoke, his tone was tinged with worry. “I thought you were supposed to be on your honeymoon?”
“There’s not going to be any honeymoon.”
For a moment, Derrick didn’t answer, and then he finally said, “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hope sat on her futon next to Iris, who’d brought over a big plate of brownies. Double chocolate chunk with walnuts. Hope hadn’t been able to resist them.
“You know, you’re ruining my figure with all these treats.”
“Hush, child,” she said, her dark eyes twinkling. “You’re in as great a shape as always. Besides that, haven’t you heard? Stress burns calories.”
Iris had dropped by four times since Hope had returned from Boston with serious ambitions of going into extended hibernation. It was pretty hard to sleep with Iris constantly coming over with something new and delicious to eat. She claimed she was trying out recipes for her church bazaar. There was going to be a big baking competition Labor Day weekend, and she badly wanted to win.
“I think this is your best recipe yet.” Hope crammed another brownie in her mouth, thinking it was a close call between the brownies and Iris’s Zesty Lemon Bars, which she’d made from scratch, using real lemon zest.
It had now been a whole week since the aborted honeymoon fiasco, and she’d not yet heard from her sister. She hadn’t tried texting her, either. If Jackie’d honestly gone to Bermuda, Hope wasn’t sure she wanted verification that her own flesh and blood could be that unfeeling. While she understood about not wasting the ticket or the accommodations, indulging in the vacation anyway just felt wrong.
“You don’t know for a fact that she went there,” Iris said, smoothing Hope’s furrowed brow.
“How do you always know what I’m thinking?”
“I don’t. But I’ve got good instincts.” Iris took a sip of coffee. “You could always call her, you know.”
Hope shook her head. “I’m not ready.”
“What about your mom?”
“I don’t think I can face her yet, either.”
“You think she’s with Gavin?”
Hope shrugged. “Maybe, if she’s lucky. Mom knew the truth about what was going on. No doubt Gavin’s on the Albrights’ side.”
“Who says anybody has to take sides?”
“Come on, Iris. You yourself said the whole situation was unforgiveable.”
She waved her hand. “That’s only because you shocked me at first.” She laughed self-effacingly. “And I don’t shock easy.”
“I really do feel awful about everything.”
“I know you do.”
“You want to know the worst part?”
Iris waited patiently.
“I love Brent.”
Hope’s heart felt bruised, like every one of its chambers had taken a solid beating. It was hard to know how it was functioning anymore, but she was still there, and day after day, when she opened her eyes, she only felt more terrible about things instead of better.
“I’m sorry, child. Things will get better in time.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Maybe you should reach out to him?”
“I know how that would go over. Not well at all.”
“You don’t have to decide today,” Iris told her. “Why don’t you see how you feel tomorrow?” Iris drank a little more coffee and then said as an aside, “Did you know Dave and Barry are doing a pop-up?” she asked, mentioning the ponytailed guys who lived next to Hope.
“No. What?” She viewed Iris with surprise. “What kind?”
“They’re junk metal artists, it seems.”
“Really?”
“I know you’ve seen their trash bins out back.”
“Yeah, but I thought… Well, I wasn’t sure what I thought.”
“That they were throwing out tons of trash? Destroying the environment? Heavens, no. They’ve been collecting things that other folks have discarded.”
Hope thought on this, realizing she’d never actually seen even one dumpster rolled to the curb on trash pick-up day.