See You Again Read online

  It had been the best and worst day of her life.

  “I’d found out just that day. The idea hadn’t even occurred to me. But my sister-in-law called wanting celebratory Mexican because her morning sickness was finally past and something just clicked in my brain. I didn’t think it was possible under the circumstances, but then I was paranoid, and I had to know before I talked to him. And then I couldn’t not tell him. He was so damned happy, and I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t tell him I was having his child and that I was leaving him in the same breath. And how could I come to you carrying another man’s baby? You didn’t sign on for that. In the end, it didn’t matter. By the time I got free to try to tell you, you were gone, and the decision was made for me.”

  Trey said nothing and instead poured himself a glass of wine and drained it. Some of the tension seemed to have left his shoulders as he set the glass on the counter with a clink. He met her eyes. “For what it’s worth, I’d have gladly taken him as my own.”

  Her heart squeezed as the implications slid through her. The girl she’d been wanted to cry out in shock and fresh loss. Would it have made a difference if she’d known that? Would she have believed him? It hardly mattered now. She smiled, knowing it was sad around the edges. “But then you wouldn’t have your Tess. And we might neither of us be where we were supposed to be to affect the most good.”

  He circled around the counter, bringing the wine. “You believe in that? Fate?”

  Reaching for the remaining flowers, she considered the question. “I think there’s always choice. But there’s a right path and a wrong path. And the two can often get confused because what’s right isn’t always what we want.”

  He filled the glasses and set the bottle aside. “What does that mean for us now?”

  Sandy’s mouth went dry, her pulse beginning to drum in her ears as he set the wine aside. “Is there an us now?”

  Trey moved in, planting his hands on the table behind her, boxing her in. “I think that, for the first time in thirty years, there’s nothing stopping us from finding out.”

  He was big and warm and inherently male in his dress pants and shirt, the top button popped on his collar, a five o’clock shadow darkening his cheeks. She wanted to rub her hand along the scruff, feel the contrast between the rough stubble and the softness of his hair. All the touch and textures she hadn’t allowed herself to explore in college because she hadn’t been free.

  She expected him to close the gap between them, but he didn’t. Instead, he stayed where he was, well inside her personal space, brown eyes steady on hers, waiting. Giving her a chance to acclimate? To change her mind? She couldn’t think with him so close. Couldn’t figure out what it was he expected. God, she was so out of practice with this.

  “You have to choose,” he murmured.

  He was giving her the choice. Maybe it was for himself. Maybe he needed her to do now what she hadn’t done then. But having that power put back into her hands made her all but giddy. So many of the important choices hadn’t really been hers. Cam hadn’t been a choice. He’d been her reality, her world. Without hesitation, she’d given up the life she’d wanted and built a new one around her son—one that often meant her wants and needs were put last, if they got consideration at all. But, as Adele had pointed out, he was grown now. And for the first time in longer than she cared to remember, she felt like a woman.

  Her hand trembled as she lifted it to his chest, splaying it over his heart. She felt the thud of it against her palm, a rapid beat that belied his calm demeanor. That made it easier, somehow, to shift in and take the plunge. Eyes still open, she pressed her mouth to his.

  She’d only ever kissed him once before, in a weak, stolen moment, after an admission that should’ve changed everything. That kiss had been full of desperation and guilt and a terrible need. She felt the shimmer of that same need awakening inside her, with absolutely nothing left to hold it back. Rising to her toes, she pressed closer, sliding her arms up around Trey’s neck. A noise rumbled in his chest, and his arms wrapped around her, skimming the length of her spine, fitting her body to his. And, oh, what a body. Beneath the conservative suit, she felt the disciplined muscles of an athlete. The years most definitely hadn’t softened…any of him.

  It was so very tempting to melt against all that hardness. So, she did, sighing into the kiss, into the heat building between them. She’d known, somewhere deep down, that it would be like this with him. It was why she’d been so ruthlessly careful never to be completely alone with him, never to put herself in a position of temptation. He was tempting her now, stroking his tongue against hers, igniting a five-alarm fire. She could hear the bells.

  Wait, that wasn’t an alarm, it was…what was it? The doorbell? No, the phone.

  Sandy broke the kiss, looking toward the cordless phone on the wall, across the room. Trey bent his head, busying his mouth along the column of her throat, making her shiver.

  “I should…God…”

  “You should let the answering machine get it.” He nipped the tendon above her collarbone and had her knees going weak.

  She held on tighter, dropping her head back to give him better access.

  A moment later, the machine clicked on. “Sandra, I’m sorry to bother you at home. This is Walt Beringer. We’ve had a massive water main blow over on Phibbs Street. I’ve already got my people on it, but we need to get an announcement out. We’ll have to shut the water off in that entire quadrant. Call me ASAP.”

  Sandy dropped her brow to Trey’s shoulder and blew out a shuddering breath. “It’s not Tokyo but…”

  “Duty calls.” He released her, skimming a quick hand over her cheek. “Do what needs doing. I’ll check on the pork chops.” And he strode across the kitchen, as if they hadn’t just nearly incinerated the kitchen table.

  Still breathless, she put on her mayor’s hat, shoved her frustrated arousal aside, and picked up the phone.

  Chapter 4

  If there were more appealing scents to start the morning than bacon and coffee, Trey didn’t know what they were. The lure of both drew him through the door of Dinner Belles. Even at eight-thirty, the diner was doing brisk business, with three-quarters of the tables still full of patrons nursing plates of pancakes, eggs, sausage, and grits. He could feel his arteries clogging from the smell alone and made a mental note to add a couple of miles to his run tomorrow. Seeing no sign of Sandy, he made a beeline for a booth just being cleared.

  After she’d called the water and light department, their tête-à-tête to brainstorm wedding venues—and their unexpected reunion—had been put on hold. They’d had just enough time to inhale the dinner she’d prepared before she had to go in to meet with her people. Hence this morning’s breakfast meeting.

  The petite brunette, whose name tag read Hannah, shot a sunny smile in his direction. “I’ll be out of your way in a jiff.”

  “No rush.”

  Trey knew from his staff that Dinner Belles was the true hub of Wishful. The latest gossip was served up alongside the finest biscuits and pie in a three-hundred-mile radius, which was why he’d studiously avoided the place since he’d started renovations on his hotel. If he’d set foot in here before now, he would’ve risked running into Sandy, who was a regular. Although, given how things had turned out last night, maybe that wouldn’t have been such a bad thing.

  The truth had turned everything he’d believed upside down and stripped away all his reservations. How could he fault her for doing what she thought was best for her son? If he’d waited to talk to her instead of letting his broken heart and wounded pride dictate his actions, would things have turned out differently? No sense in regrets, as she’d said. He couldn’t imagine a life without Tess in it. But he’d had no trouble adjusting to the idea of a place in his life for Sandy. He may have buried that dream deep, but in thirty years, he’d never really given it up.

  As soon as the booth was cleared, Trey slid in and picked up a menu. The laminated sheet curled a
t the edges, telling him the choices hadn’t changed in years. Combined with the crowd—all shooting curious stares in his direction—that told him the food was damned good. The place reminded him of the greasy spoons he and Sandy had frequented in college. Coffee and studying had given way to talk of life and aspirations. And, eventually, to confidences. He hadn’t been able to step into a diner anywhere in the country without thinking of her.

  An older African American woman ambled up to the table, radiating sass. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She turned over the cup at his elbow and filled it without looking. “Got tired of take out finally?”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “You’re the hotel man, aren’t you? Always send your people for take out.”

  “Uh, yes, ma’am.” This woman knew who he was?

  “That’s a sign you work too much.”

  “Don’t we all?” Sandy slid into the opposite side of the booth and beamed a smile. “Good mornin’, Mama Pearl.”

  Ah. Even Trey had heard of Mama Pearl Buckley—Queen of Gossip in Wishful. If Mama Pearl didn’t know it, it wasn’t worth knowing.

  “Mornin’, Madam Mayor. You want your usual?”

  “I’m feeling decadent this morning.”

  Mama Pearl’s dark brow lifted a fraction. “Are you now?” She cut her eyes toward Trey as she filled Sandy’s cup. “I’ll just give you a minute to decide then.”

  As she disappeared through the kitchen door, Trey released a breath. “Why do I just feel like I was judged and found wanting?”

  “Mama Pearl has certain expectations about how life ought to be lived, and she has no problem letting people know when they aren’t up to snuff.”

  “And people are okay with that?”

  “She’s a wise woman. I may be the political head of Wishful, but Mama Pearl is who really runs this town.” She plucked a menu up and scanned it. “Omelet or pancakes?”

  “There was a time you would’ve gotten both.”

  Her rare dimple flashed, and warmth spread through his chest. “Only because you’d mooch enough off my plate that I didn’t feel guilty.”

  “I can still perform that service.”

  “Fine. Both it is, then.” She tucked the menu back between the napkin dispenser and the condiment caddy.

  “Did y’all get the water main squared away?”

  “At about two-thirty this morning. I’m sorry about last night.”

  Trey waved that off. “I get it. Stuff happens. When you’re the boss, you have to deal with it. And I’m not crying about getting to share two meals in a row with you.” Though he’d have preferred if breakfast had come on the other side of falling into her bed. But that was rushing things.

  “Well now,” Mama Pearl drawled, dividing a look between them.

  Sandy’s cheeks pinked. “I’ll have a short stack of pancakes and a Denver omelet.”

  Trey put in his order for biscuits and gravy, with a side of grits and watched Mama Pearl go clip the order to the carousel in the pass-thru window. “That’s gonna be all over town by lunch, isn’t it?”

  “Probably.” She winced. “Is that a problem?”

  He stretched out to take her hand in his. “Not for me.”

  Her dimple winked again, and Trey was ridiculously pleased when she curled her fingers around his rather than pull away. Back in college they’d always been so careful never to touch, never to make a wrong move that anybody could misinterpret as more than it was. Having the freedom to touch her now, even something so simple as holding her hand, felt like a gift.

  In the back of his mind, cool, cautious Gerald said, Slow down. Be careful. But he’d made his decision, hadn’t he? To let Trey be in the driver’s seat for this. It had been Trey she’d once loved.

  “So, what was it you found out this morning?” she asked.

  “I met Brody out at the church to assess the damage.”

  Sandy brightened at the news. “He pulled off a miracle with The Madrigal. What did he say?”

  “Well, it’s a long-shot, but with enough crew and round the clock shifts like he organized on the theater, he thinks it could be done.”

  Mama Pearl came back with their food. “Y’all wedding plannin’?”

  “We’re trying to save Cam and Norah’s wedding,” Sandy told her.

  The older woman nodded. “It’s a good cause. Everybody loves those kids. You put out the call, you’ll have more volunteers than you can shake a stick at come to help.”

  Trey loved that about this town. How they’d come together to help their own. He thought there was a nice poeticism to the idea that the town would come together to give back to the couple who’d given so much to it. Between Norah as City Planner and Cam as City Councilman, he couldn’t think of anyone other than Sandy herself who’d done more for Wishful. But he had a suspicion that they’d have to go further afield than just the people of Wishful to pull this off.

  “Brody’s supposed to let me know by day’s end what he needs. I figured we could meet him out there with Cam and Norah and discuss things,” Trey suggested.

  She beamed. “I think we can make that happen.”

  And if it meant he got to bookend his day with Sandy, all the better.

  ~*~

  By the time they finished breakfast, it took another twenty minutes to get out of Dinner Belles. One of the side effects of being mayor of a small town was that Sandy knew nearly everyone in some capacity or other, and part of why her approval ratings were so high was because she always took the time to acknowledge that. As she and Trey finally stepped onto the sidewalk, she blew out a breath. “I’m sorry about that.”

  He only smiled. “I like seeing you in your element. You’re a woman in control of your world. It’s something I both appreciate and relate to.” The smile dialed up to a grin. “And it’s sexy as hell.”

  “Well.” Sandy’s cheeks burned. He was flirting with her. When was the last time anyone had flirted with her? When was the last time she’d liked it?

  Trey tucked her hand through his arm. “C’mon. I’ll walk you back to your office.”

  On their way across the green, Sandy paused at the fountain, her lips curving.

  “What are you smiling about?” he asked.

  “I was just musing that I got my wish.”

  “And what wish would that be?”

  “I wished for a miracle to save Cam and Norah’s wedding. Less than a minute later, Louis called, arranging dinner with you.”

  “How fortuitous.” He looped her arm through his again. “You really believe in the legend?”

  “Hard to grow up here and not. And Norah’s taken local lore and amplified it.”

  Trey glanced at the fountain. “Hmmm.”

  “I can hear your skepticism.”

  His gaze came back to hers, suddenly serious. “Did you ever wish things had turned out differently. Back then?”

  Sandy considered her answer. “When things got really bad, I certainly thought about it. But, no, I never made the wish.”

  “Why?”

  “There are all sorts of cautionary tales about being careful what you wish for. Aside from the fact that you can’t turn back time, I guess there was a part of me that worried if I made that wish, something might happen to Cam. I wasn’t willing to risk it. And I didn’t feel like I had the right to be that selfish.”

  “Selfish how?”

  “For all I knew, you’d gone off and built a life somewhere else, were happy with someone else. I hoped you were happy. You deserved the chance for that without me interfering on any kind of theoretical, cosmic level.”

  She couldn’t read his expression. What was going through his head? Did he think her foolish and superstitious?

  “Always putting everybody else first.” He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger.

  Sandy held very still, watching him, though she wanted to turn into the touch. He seemed to have forgotten they wer
e on a public sidewalk, in a town where everyone knew her. But she hadn’t. Tongues would be wagging already, and she wasn’t in any hurry to give them juicier fodder for the gossip mill.

  Trey’s mouth curved. “Guess it’s my turn to make a wish.” He fished a coin out of his pocket. “Any rules to this that I should know?”

  “Hold your wish clear in your mind. Don’t let your thoughts wander off to something else, or it’ll get muddled. And be very careful of your wording, lest you get something you didn’t intend.”

  He nodded, staring at the water for a long moment before tossing in his coin. “Now what?”

  “Now you wait.”

  They began to walk again, this time toward City Hall.

  “Want to know what I wished?”

  “No! You can’t tell. Not until or unless it happens.” But she was curious what a man like him, who had everything anyone could ever want, would wish for.

  Trey walked her up to her second-floor office, where Avery was neck-deep in spreadsheets for the afternoon’s budget meeting with the comptroller. She looked up as they came in, her eyes going wide as she took in Sandy’s arm linked through Trey’s.

  “Good morning Sandra, Mr. Peyton.”

  “Morning, Avery. Sorry I’m late. Dinner Belles for breakfast.”

  “Say no more.” When the phone rang, she lifted a finger for them to wait. “Mayor Crawford’s office. How can I—Yes, she is. Is it ready? No, no, I’ll run down and get it.” Avery hung up. “Back in a jiff, Sandra. Our order is ready at the print shop.”

  “I’ll hold down the fort.”

  As her assistant hurried off, Sandy waved Trey into her office. “Welcome to the inner sanctum.”

  He strode inside and began to look around. She wondered what he thought. She’d done what she could to spruce the place up, bringing in an Aubusson rug and a few pieces of antique furniture she’d picked up at an estate sale, covering the walls with framed black and white photographs of Wishful in its heyday. But there was no hiding the fact that it was a municipal building. He wandered over to the console table set below the bank of windows overlooking the green and picked up a photo.