Page 14 of The Choices I've Made
“Well, yes baby. Friendship is important in a marriage. But so is heat and passion.”
My arms folded around my waist as I began to turn away.
“What about—”
I held up my hand, immediately cutting her off.
“No, we’re not talking about Jake, Mama. Not again and not anymore. It’s history. It’s been history for well over a decade now.”
“But you know he’ll return now that his father has passed.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m with Dean now. I love Dean. We’ve been together for four years. We’re happy,” I pressed, my mother appearing no less convinced than before. “And, besides, the way Jake tore out of here all those years ago, I doubt we’ll see his face around here again.”
“He was hurt and still grieving his mother,” she explained.
“Jake’s mother died after he started blaming this island for his problems. He just used it as an excuse to walk away. I just hope he’s found whatever he was looking for,” I said, my gaze shifting toward the window where my father slept.
How many times had Jake held me in that hammock? Told me there would never be anyone else—right before he tore out my heart?
“And have you?” my mother asked. “Found what you’ve been looking for?”
I forced my gaze from the window to the woman who’d been by my side my entire life and through every decision, even now, even when she didn’t agree with them.
“Yes, I have,” I answered firmly. “Dean and I have something real and reliable.”
She took my hands in her own, disregarding the flour and dough that remained. “Then, I’m happy for you, Molly. Truly.”
“Thank you, Mama.” I gave a weak smile as I tried to forget the past.
But I couldn’t.
Not here.
Not withhisghost following me around every corner of the house, under every oak tree on the property. Jake was ingrained in the framework of this house just as much as I was.
I’d never be rid of him, no matter how hard I tried.
After finishing several loaves of banana bread and a healthy batch of peach scones for the morning, I wiped down the kitchen and made myself a drink.
Nothing like a good glass of pinot noir after a long day.
Finding a quiet spot in the garden, I leaned back into the comfy lounge chair that was usually occupied by guests, and I soaked in the view.
By the Bay Inn had been in our family for generations. Long before my grandparents had decided to turn the large house into a place for visitors, it’d served as a boarding house for soldiers during the war. I still remembered the stories my grandmother would tell me from her childhood when she had a crush on a different officer every week.
Lucky for my grandfather, a local fisherman in town, none of those crushes had lasted, and they had gotten married soon after he returned from fighting on the front line in Germany.
How romantic it must have been back then.
“Lovely night it’s turning out to be.”
I turned, spotting one of my favorite guests walking up the path toward me. He was an elderly man, here with his wife of fifty years. They’d been regulars since I was a young girl, and it always warmed my heart to see the happy couple return year after year.
After I gestured to the empty chair beside me, I watched him take a seat. “Yes, it is.” I smiled. “Where is your bride, Mr. Lovell? Are you ditching your traditional night of cards to stare out at the stars with me?”
He chuckled, those dull green eyes of his disappearing behind his large cheeks. “Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly do that. My Anne lives for card games. We’ve played at least one hand every day of our marriage. She’s convinced it’s the key to our success.”
“Card games, hmm? Well, I’ll keep that in mind.”
