Page 38 of Moonlit Harbor Nights

They sat down in the gazebo together. The snow-dusted park around them looked so beautiful, it was as if they were in some kind of winter wonderland.

“Noelle,” Dean said, gently taking her hand. “I have something I need to say to you.” He was determined to get right to the point. He’d wanted to be able to look into her eyes while he told her everything that was on his heart, but their awkward walk had proved to him that there was no point in delaying that conversation any further.

“What is it?” she asked. She looked suddenly nervous, which made Dean feel nervous. He had no idea what she might be thinking, but he was afraid that she was going to tell him soon that she didn’t want to be in a relationship with him anymore.

He took a deep breath. “First of all, I want to apologize. I lied to you. When I told you that I had to stay late at work to take care of those cars, it was a lie.”

Noelle blinked at him with wide eyes but didn’t say anything.

“I lied to you because I was afraid to tell you the truth. The truth is that I was struggling enormously physically that day, even though I’d been trying to take it easy. I guess I’d pushed myself too hard the day before, and I was still paying for it. My hands were shaking, and I was worried that I shouldn’t even bedriving. My guys at the shop told me that I needed to go home and get some rest, and I finally realized they were right.”

Noelle took a deep breath, but she still didn’t say anything. Dean felt his stomach twist with apprehension, but he was determined to keep telling Noelle how he felt.

“I shouldn’t have lied to you, I’m sorry. Hazel pointed out that I probably made you feel as though work matters more to me than you do, and nothing could be further from the truth. I’d been hoping that you would see those cars as a valid excuse for missing our date, but it was clear you didn’t.”

The corner of Noelle’s mouth curved upward into a smile. “No, not really.”

“I should have realized you would feel that way.” He cleared his throat. “And you were right—if that really had happened, I could have asked one of the guys to cover for me, or I could have given the customers those loaner cars we have. The only reason why I cancelled our date is because I knew I couldn’t handle it physically.”

“Dean, why didn’t you tell me that?” she whispered.

“I was afraid.” He looked into her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I am afraid—that you won’t want to be with a man who is always struggling physically.”

Tears formed in Noelle’s eyes, and she reached out and pulled Dean into a tight hug. His heart leapt up, and he let himself enjoy the embrace for a few moments before stammering, “What are you thinking?”

She leaned back from the hug but kept her hands on his forearms. “I feel awful that you felt you couldn’t tell me the truth. Dean, you can always tell me about what’s really going on. I don’t expect you to not struggle physically. I know what your diagnosis means, and I want to be there for you to help you through your struggles, not make you feel like you’re failing. Yes, I would have been disappointed about our cancelled date eitherway, but I wouldn’t blame you for not feeling physically up for it.”

He swallowed. “You don’t think that eventually, it’s going to be too much for you, and you’re not going to want to date me anymore?”

She took both his hands in hers and squeezed them tightly. “Absolutely not,” she assured him. “I would never ask you to be perfect. I don’t need you to be there for me all the time. All I ask of you is complete trust and honesty, and I’ll give you the same in return.”

“You mean that?” A lump welled up in his throat. He realized in that moment just how much he’d been afraid of losing her, and his relief was exquisitely sweet.

“I absolutely mean that.” Her voice was soft and full of sincerity. “I love you, Dean. I’m not going to get scared away just because you missed a few of our dates. We just have to figure out how to work around your fatigue. We can start by being careful to plan dates at times that you’re more likely to have more energy. Like—we could go on breakfast dates instead of dinner dates.”

He brushed a wisp of hair back from her face, feeling overwhelmed by the depth of her support. “You’re amazing, do you know that?”

She grinned at him. “You’re amazing. You’ve got so much to deal with, and you’re doing such a good job.”

He winced. “Except for when I’m lying to my girlfriend.”

“Okay, most of the time.” She laughed. “I mean it, Dean. We’re going to figure this out together. Let’s just be better at strategizing. And communicating.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said, and kissed her tenderly, feeling overwhelmed with a surge of happiness.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Vivian opened the door of the storage closet at the pub and let out a sigh. Stacks upon stacks of food supplies stuffed the shelves. There were bottles of sauce ingredients, cans of baking ingredients, and bags of flour and sugar and salt, along with bins filled with root vegetables. She noted that they still had several bags of the coffee they’d decided not to use anymore, and she sighed again.

It had been a long, busy day at the pub, and even though Alexis and Julia had tried to convince her to go home as soon as The Lighthouse Grill had closed, she’d insisted on staying to do the inventory. It hadn’t been done for a week, and the last person to do it had been one of their teenage employees. She had an itchy feeling that it was off, and she wanted to make sure to do it accurately, especially because they were nearing the time of the month when they ordered deliveries of many of their bulk products.

I may have promised the girls I’d go home right after this,she thought,but I have a feeling I’m going to be here for quite a while. I guess reading and drinking tea in bed will have to wait.

She started to look over their stock of jelly packets and was dismayed to find that they had significantly more than what her teenage employee had jotted down when taking the inventory.

“Are some of these expired?” she muttered, nervously checking the dates on the packets at the back of the stacks.

They weren’t, and for a moment she stood in the storage room, puzzling over how the number on the page could be so far off from the actual number of packets they had. Finally, she realized with a huff of amusement that the teenager had only been counting the boxes of jelly packets, not doing the math to add up the total number of individual packets.

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