Page 39 of The Guest Cottage

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Or him. She dithered, then said, “Thanks for having my back.”

“Anytime.” Then more seriously, he added, “Understand, Marlow, I would never intervene unless you asked me to—or unless it was to physically protect you. In a verbal confrontation, though, my money’s on you.”

“Really?”

“Everyone could tell you had it all under control.”

His faith in her buoyed her spirit even more. “Now see, that’s the best type of backup there is.” It was a remarkable thing to have this man’s trust.

And honestly, it helped her to trust herself more, too. She did have her life under control. Sure, there were moments when doubts crept in and that hollow ache filled her chest, as if some vital part of herself was still missing.

Yet each day, she felt more whole. Each day, she found new courage or humor or determination.

She was healing herself, proactively, on her terms, and it felt great. So great, in fact, that she floated through the rest of her shift.

Cort let her know when he was heading home, but then she’d already noticed that he rarely stayed until closing, and he wasn’t always at the tavern while she worked. Like her, he enjoyed the dawn, and unlike her, he didn’t have a late job to work.

She briefly wondered if that kiss would change things. She looked forward to finding out.

* * *

Over the next two days, Cort’s visits to the tavern were about the same, the only difference being his familiarity in greeting her when he arrived, and letting her know when he was leaving. He didn’t show up any earlier or stay any later.

He didn’t crowd her, and she appreciated it.

They saw each other on the dock in the mornings, and although he wasn’t overly demonstrative, they did share a few more kisses. It was both exciting and new, this fresh relationship, but it was different also. She’d married Dylan as a young woman and had allowed him to guide her—into the right home appropriate to his family name, into her profession at Heddings’ Holdings, into a social whirl of movers and shakers. Why, she couldn’t say, except that it had been easier than standing up for herself.

Cort’s personality was every bit as big as Dylan’s, just quieter and more controlled. With him, she didn’t feel the need to gauge her reactions. Not her laughs or frowns, her disappointment or fascination. Talking with him at dawn over coffee on the dock, she found that she could share anything, embarrassing moments and worried thoughts, and especially things she found funny or exciting.

That was why, on Sunday evening as they strolled along a deserted stretch of rocky shoreline, she said, “I haven’t heard from my in-laws again, and I’m hopeful they’ve given up.”

“Given up on pressuring you?” His hand opened on her back, and he steered her closer. “Careful. There’s a stump.”

She stepped around it, and then stayed near him because it felt right. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind if they’ve just given up on me. On ever seeing me again.” She winced. “Does that sound awful?”

He took a second to answer. “I saw you with them. They were abrasive. I don’t know if grief made them that way, but I suspect they’ve always been a challenge for you.” He glanced at her for confirmation.

Her slight shrug confirmed it. “For the first few years of my marriage, I knew they didn’t approve of me. They were always polite for Dylan’s benefit, I’m sure. They weren’t warm or welcoming, but they didn’t exclude me from things. It was more a look I’d get or the way they’d smile. Condescending, you know?”

“Yes.”

“They had a certain set of friends, people in their orbit, and they always assumed Dylan would marry within that group. Instead, he brought home an outsider.”

“You.”

She nodded. “My family was financially comfortable, but the Heddings . . . Well, you’ve heard of Heddings’ Holdings?”

“It’s a recognizable name.”

“They’re into everything. Properties, restaurants, merchandise. They have more employees than I could count. It’s unheard of for them to track me down here and to show up personally.”

“Guess they eventually accepted you, since they want you back so badly.”

She shook her head. “They’re worried about Dylan’s reputation. Anything and everything they do is reported and shared. That’s just reality for wealthy people. Usually, they’d brush it off, but since Dylan’s gone, they’re worried.”

“And they think you can make a difference in how the story goes?”

“I probably could.” She shot him a look. “That sounds like boasting, doesn’t it?”

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