Page 13 of Summer in Kentbury
As we sit there, sharing stories and reflections, the distance between us feels less like space and more like a bridge. We connect through shared experiences and unexpected beginnings. And just maybe, this chance encounter could lead to something new for both of us—hope, understanding, and maybe even a shot at happiness.
In the peaceful stillness that surrounds us, interrupted only by the soothing sounds of the lake, I realize that this moment—with Lavender, in this tranquil setting—might just be the beginning of discovering what I’ve been missing. And perhaps, as we help each other find our way, we might also find a little more of what we’ve been searching for all along.
Chapter Six
Sinclair
At seven in the morning,the world is supposed to wake up and start its routine, but here by the lake, it feels as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for something momentous.
The peaceful atmosphere makes it easy to forget the chaos left behind in the city. As Lavender sets the sketchbook on the ground andpulls her knees up, wrapping her arms around them, she turns to face me, her expression contemplative. Her brows furrow slightly, and her lips purse as if she’s trying to find the right words.
“It’s funny,” she begins, her voice carrying a reflective undertone, “how life throws you these curveballs just when you think you’ve got everything figured out.” She lets out a soft chuckle, shaking her head.
“Me, I swore that after two years of dating Theo, he was going to propose—or we would be moving in together or . . .” She shrugs. “I asked and apparently we weren’t on the same page. He wanted to be free, never to be attached to anyone. My life suddenly changed because of that one moment.”
I bob my head a couple of times. She’s right. In one second everything and anything can change.
“Yeah, life seems perpetually ready to toss a wrench into our well-laid plans.” I pause, letting the thought linger for a moment. My heart skips a beat as I meet her gaze. “But maybe those curveballs are what keep things interesting, push us to grow.”
Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and her shoulders relax. “Growth is painful, unpredictable, and messy. But I guess it’s also pretty necessary.” Her eyes meet mine, searching, and I feel a fluttering in my stomach. “Do you think we ever reach a degree of maturity that won’t require us to grow so fast and so much?”
I take a deep breath, considering her question. “That’s tough to answer,” I admit, drawing in a breath of the crisp morning air.
After my conversation with Clara, I don’t evenknow if I’ve grown in the emotional department. Maybe I have the maturity of a toddler. Sure, I can close deals but when it comes to feelings, I’m a fucking failure. I can’t even connect with my family, let alone fall in love with a woman.
Who spends eight years of his life with someone and never learns to even care about her? Obviously me. Will I ever find a way to find a deep connection? Maybe I should start with a connection. Maybe make a friend—that’s a good step right?
“Mom once said that the day we stop growing is the day we stop truly living,” she states. “Which I get, but having your life change so drastically . . . it’d be good if it doesn’t happen so often.”
“They say life’s about change, and growth is just change that helps us become more ourselves,” I offer, but I’m not sure if that applies to me or if I even understand the phrase.
What have I done lately that really says, look, he’s a better person?
Lavender smiles, a look of appreciation lighting up her eyes. She tilts her head, her hair falling softly around her face. “I like that—growth as a way to become more ourselves. I’ve never thought about it like that.” She shifts slightly, her shoulder brushing against mine, sparking a connection that feels both surprising and right. A warmth spreads through my body at her touch, and I find myself leaning into her.
“I guess that’s why I came here,” she continues, turning her gaze back to the shimmering water. Her voice wavers slightly, and I can sense the vulnerability in her words. “To find out if I can still change, if Ican still grow into someone better, someone happier.” She wraps her arms tighter around her knees, as if seeking comfort in the embrace.
Her honesty and vulnerability draw me in. It’s rare to meet someone who not only understands your thoughts but shares them. I reach out, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “And have you found any answers yet?”
She ponders for a moment, then shakes her head with a wistful smile. “I just arrived yesterday, so definitely not. But being here, talking with you—it feels like a good first step.”
“Talking with me?” I prompt, curious about her thoughts.
This woman is too young and naïve. I’m clearly the wrong person to be with when she’s having an identity crisis or anything. I’m hollow on the inside just like the Tin Man.
“Yeah, as you told me about your wife, I realized that maybe what was missing between Cheating-Jerk and me was real love. I was in love with the idea of finally finding a partner to spend the rest of my life with.” She pauses, reflecting on her words. “I’m pretty sure that he saw me as his financial stability or something like that. And maybe he did fall in love with his current fiancée or . . .”
“What’s the other option?” I probe gently, sensing there’s more she’s grappling with.
Lavender pulls out her phone and shows me her ex’s latest post from last night. It’s a sonogram that saysBaby Standish arriving 9/27.
“Based on the due date, she’s five monthspregnant,” she notes. Lavender’s tone is even, but I catch a flicker of hurt in her eyes before she shrugs it off. “It’s quite funny, really, learning that the guy who never wanted a family is about to become a father.”
“Are you okay with that?” I ask, watching her closely.
She shrugs again, a gesture that seems to carry more weight this time. “Yeah, I mean, my pride is bruised, and I’m still worried about losing my business, but . . . just like you, I never gave him my heart.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore filling the quiet space between us.
