Summer at Seaside Cove (45 page)

“I didn't need to work at Newman's, but I wanted to stay connected to him. And Maggie. And to you as well. I loved you, but I guess there was that small part of me that still resented you. That somehow just always felt you'd taken something that should have belonged to me. I thought it had gone away, that I'd grown out of it. But then came Raymond.”

The name seemed to hang in the sea-scented air, a heavy dark cloud that wedged itself between them. “I'd run into him at various functions here and there,” Laurel continued, “and always had a bit of a thing for him. He was everything I looked for in a man—handsome, wealthy, charming—but the timing was never right. Either I was with someone or he was. Still, I'd given him my card and told him to stop by Newman's sometime. And then one night I saw him there. Sitting at the bar. Alone. I was thrilled and excited. I joined him and over drinks he told me that he'd been in twice the previous week for dinner, both times on nights I wasn't there. And that he'd met you. Just then you came over to the bar. Greeted me with a smile—and Raymond with a kiss. And I realized he wasn't there to see me.”

Laurel bent down to scoop up a small shell and Jamie forced herself to remain silent, to not say the words that rushed into her throat.
Yes, he was there to see me. And you didn't care. You wanted him so you took him.
Her inner voice whispered,
But she couldn't have taken him if he hadn't wanted to be taken.
Jamie frowned and shoved the voice aside.

“Raymond and I ran in the same circles, and over the next several months, we bumped into each other at least a dozen times. Each time we saw each other, he grew progressively . . . flirtier, I guess is the best word, and I grew more and more attracted. At one particular party he grabbed my hand and led me off to a private room. I knew what he wanted. I wanted it, too. But before I let him pull me into that room, I asked him if he was still seeing you.”

She paused and clasped Jamie's hand to halt her. Jamie stopped walking but pulled her hand away. When she looked at Laurel, she saw her blue eyes were bright with tears. “He said no. That he'd ended things with you. That he was free. I won't lie to you, Jamie—I can't swear I wouldn't have gone into that room with him even if he'd said you were still together. I was already halfway in love with him and I honestly don't know what I would have done. But when he said he was free, there was no decision to make.”

All the hurt and betrayal Jamie had spent the summer trying to put into perspective and move past came roaring back. “We hadn't broken up,” she said in a cold, clipped voice. “We may have had an argument—I don't know. I don't remember. But there'd been no breakup, or even talk of one.”

“I didn't know, Jamie. I swear I didn't know.”

The fury Jamie thought she'd buried struck her like a lash. “Maybe you didn't know that night—I'll give you that, even though I still think it's really shitty that you'd take up with a guy you knew at the very least I'd been dating twenty-four hours earlier. If you'd been even the tiniest bit concerned about my feelings, you would have at least discussed it with me first. But you didn't. And what about after that night, Laurel? What about for the next
two months
when you were sneaking around behind my back? You knew damn well we were still seeing each other
all that time
.”

Jamie fisted her hands and forced herself to take slow, deep breaths to try to stem the rage welling up inside her. Her heart was pounding and her knees were shaking.

Laurel's face paled but she didn't look away. “I didn't know that first night, which turned into an entire weekend, but I found out on Monday when I saw you at Newman's. You mentioned you were seeing Raymond that night and I realized he'd lied to me. I was shocked. And hurt. And absolutely furious. I left work and confronted him. He apologized profusely. Said as far as
he
was concerned, you'd broken up. And that he'd make it clear to you that you were through. He told me he loved me. And wanted to be with me. I stupidly believed him. Because I'd foolishly fallen in love with him. And desperately wanted to be with him.”

She raked a hand through her hair. “For the next two months, in order to avoid any potentially awkward scenes, I avoided you as much as possible at work, which given how busy you always were at Newman's wasn't difficult. You didn't look brokenhearted to me, but since you were never the type to wear your heart on your sleeve . . .” She shrugged. “He told me he loved me, that he was ending things with you, and since that's what I wanted to hear, I didn't question the rest.”

“I had no idea there was someone else,” Jamie said, proud that her voice barely trembled, “let alone that someone else was
you
, until I saw you coming out of his apartment that last morning—wearing the same clothes you'd worn at Newman's the night before. When I confronted him, he admitted the two of you had been together for two months.”

“If it means anything, I was as shocked to see you as you were to see me. As you know that resulted in your breakup. Even though I was furious with him for not being completely honest with me, I forgave him.” She shook her head, her eyes filled with disbelief. “I swear to God I don't know what I was thinking. I'd
never
allowed any man to treat me that way before. Ever. My only defense is that I honestly, truly, and very stupidly loved him. And I thought, even though he'd made mistakes, that he loved me as well.”

Anger suddenly fired in her eyes. “I can't believe what a
fool
I was! Even though I felt horrible about what had happened with you, I consoled myself with the fact that at least I'd found my soul mate. And that when you returned to New York I'd try to mend our relationship. And then, four weeks ago, I decided to surprise Raymond with a visit to his apartment.” Twin flags of color stained her cheeks. “I surprised him all right. Him and one of my good friends. I later found out he'd been seeing her the
entire time
he was seeing me.”

Jamie blinked. “Wait . . . you mean he was cheating on
you
the entire time he was cheating on me with you?”

“Yes! That son of a bitch was cheating on both of us.”

Jamie looked into Laurel's eyes, which positively spit fury. “Well, I'll be damned.”

They stood facing each other and Jamie watched the rage slowly ebb from Laurel's eyes to be replaced by a weariness that tugged at her heart. “I know I hurt you and I'm sorry, Jamie. From the depths of my soul, I'm sorry. And deeply ashamed. I've done a lot of selfish things in my life, things I'm not proud of, but being with Raymond . . . it was worse than just selfish, it was
wrong
. In every way.

“I've spent the entire last month thinking,” Laurel continued, “about my life. About the sort of person I am versus the sort I want to be. The sort of mother I want to be. And the sort of sister as well. To my chagrin I realized I was falling far short in an appalling number of areas. And I want, more than anything, to fix that. Have been
trying
to fix that. I want to be a person I can look at in the mirror and be proud of. I want to be a mother who is there for Heather and sets a good example for her. And I want to be the kind of sister who appreciates what a great sister she had . . . and hopefully still has.”

Laurel regarded her through solemn eyes. “I can't promise you I'll never do or say anything stupid again, but if you'll forgive me and give me another chance I
can
promise you that a man will never come between us again. And I'll try to be the best sister I can be.”

After a brief hesitation, Laurel slowly held out her hand.

Jamie looked at it with her heart thudding in thick, fast beats, and realized that hand was a bridge. To a new beginning. All Jamie had to do was decide if she wanted to cross it.

Maria's words from the previous day drifted through her mind:
Anger poisons the person who holds it. Forgiveness sets us free.

Yes, she'd been hurt, but not maliciously, as she'd believed—Raymond had lied to Laurel as well. He'd hurt both of them, yet in truth, he'd hurt Laurel worse because she'd been in love with him, whereas Jamie had really only been in love with the
idea
of him—of being swept off her feet by a rich, handsome, charming man.

She wanted to be set free. She didn't want the poison in her life any longer.

Hot moisture pushed behind her eyes. Instead of taking Laurel's hand, she opened her arms. Tears filled Laurel's eyes, and with a half laugh, half cry—a sound that Jamie echoed—Laurel stepped forward and into her embrace.

T
he next morning, after everyone had eaten breakfast together at Nick's—cooked amid much laughter at Southern Comfort because, after all, Nick had the All-Clad pots and pans—Jamie and her mother walked to the beach for one last look at the ocean before her mom and Alex began their drive back to New York.

As they stood at the water's edge, allowing the cool water to lap at their bare feet, her mom murmured, “I've been thinking about what you said.”

“Anything in particular? I said a lot of things.”

“About coming here to get away from me. About all the pressure I've put on you.”

Jamie let out a slow breath. “I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I was angry and frustrated when I said that.”

“That doesn't mean it isn't true.” She turned to face Jamie. “I want you to be honest with me, Jamie. Have I driven you away? Because you must know, that's the last thing I would ever want to do.”

Jamie pressed her lips together and took a few seconds to gather her thoughts, because while she wanted to be completely honest, she didn't want to be hurtful. “I know, Mom. But the unvarnished truth is this—I love being included in your life, and having you in mine, but since Daddy died, you've become too dependent on me. It's been three years, yet you're still leaning on me as much as you did when he first passed away. Three years ago I understood it, but now . . . now it needs to stop. You're a smart woman, perfectly capable of doing things for yourself, yet you want me to make your decisions for you. And I can't. You need to make your own decisions, based on what's right for you. And I need to make mine, based on what's right for me. And you need to respect those decisions. And not put so much pressure on me.”

There. She'd said it—the words she should have said months ago. Or at the very least, when her mother first arrived at Paradise Lost. A sense of calm and peace suffused Jamie, one she hadn't experienced in a very long time. She felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Her mom reached out and took her hands. Gave them a gentle squeeze. “You're right. Absolutely right. I haven't been able to think of anything else since you stomped out the other night saying you were done.”

“I'm sorry about leaving that way—”

“Please don't be. I admit what you said was a slap, but it was one I desperately needed. I also have to admit that when you left New York, I was angry with you. It seemed to me you'd abandoned all your responsibilities—and over a man who wasn't worth even one of your tears. But mostly I was upset because I felt like you'd abandoned me—just when I needed you the most.”

“I left Newman's in good hands,” Jamie reminded her. “Nathan is a very capable manager—”

“I know. But this whole situation with Alex . . . I needed
you
.”

“As long as we're being so honest, Mom, I'm glad I didn't know about your situation at that time, because if I had, I might not have come here. And I desperately needed to get away. To recharge myself. Because what I was doing, how I was living, the decisions I was making, none of it felt good anymore. Nothing felt
right
. I needed a change. And not just a little one. A catastrophic upheaval was called for.”

“I know that—now. But at the time, I'm afraid I was awash in hormones and only thinking about my own problems, and for that I'm very sorry. They say change is good—of course, I don't know who ‘they' are, and I'm not sure they're right. I do know, at least for me, change is
hard
. And very scary. And since your father died—my life has been nothing
but
change.”

She drew a deep breath, then continued, “The worst change is that I feel like you and I have . . . lost each other a bit.”

The truth of her mother's words, as well as the catch in her voice, shamed Jamie. “I guess we have. And it's mostly my fault. I allowed work and my relationship with Raymond to take over my life.” How many times while she was dating Raymond had her mom invited her over for dinner and she'd said no?

A lot.

How many times had Jamie purposely avoided conversations with her mom because she didn't want to be involved in any drama or listen to her mom discuss her grieving process—because talking about her dad was hard?

Again, a lot.

But, standing in Nick's kitchen while they'd prepared the food for the potluck dinner, she'd realized that while listening to her mom talk about her dad was hard, it was also . . . cathartic.

“I know I've leaned on you a great deal since your dad died,” Mom said quietly, “but—”

“We leaned on each other, Mom. When Daddy died, it was a terrible time for me, too.”

“I know, but I've continued to lean, and for a very long time now. You've had to take on so many things I didn't know how to do. I should have kept up with all the financial stuff—the investments, the bank accounts, the tax returns, running Newman's—but your dad always took care of all that. I was still trying to adjust to empty-nest syndrome when he died.”