Page 21 of The Guest Cottage
This incredible woman who always appeared ready to deflect now showed her vulnerability. Not completely, because he knew she was hiding a lot of hurt, but she relaxed and let him in. He felt it in the air, saw it in the way she held herself, and heard it in the easy way she breathed.
It felt like a gift, the best gift he’d ever received.
He understood complicated emotions because he lived with guilt. It was as much a part of him as his need for privacy, his defensive edge, and his ability to handle any situation.
“What did you do today?” he asked her, just to give her a topic to focus on.
Like a lifeline, she grabbed it, chatting about her hunt for commercial property, as well as the continued calls from her mother-in-law.
“I’ve never dealt with a mother-in-law, so I can’t offer any insights.”
Sunlight caught in her golden-brown hair as she tipped her head to study him. “So never married?”
As if it would explain everything, he said, “I served in the Marines until my mother took ill. I’d be there still if she hadn’t needed me home more often.”
“Do you still have your father?”
It was the last direction he’d thought she’d take the conversation. Knowing he had to tread carefully so he didn’t encourage her curiosity or risk her shying away again, he chose the vaguest explanation he could. “He was . . . gone by the time I was twelve.” Not a lie, but certainly not the whole truth.
The seconds ticked by in silence before she spoke again. “I lost both my parents, too.”
“Recently?”
She shook her head. “My father passed away when I was nineteen, my mother when I was twenty-two. They’d both been healthy one minute, then gone the next, Dad with a heart attack, my mother with a stroke.” Brows tweaking together, she clarified. “Mom actually lived for a week, but it felt like a blink in time because she wasn’t really there. The day before her stroke, she and I were working on my wedding plans, looking at gowns, talking about florists, things like that.”
The urge to take her hand was strong, but Cort resisted. She might misconstrue the gesture, think he was coming on to her when he could tell she needed no-pressure friendship more than anything else right now. “You married young.”
“No, the wedding was put off, and then put off again.” Her mouth twisted to the side in a show of regret. “Not by me but by Dylan—my husband.” Those words seemed to trickle into the next. “My deceased husband. I mean, that’s why I’m here.” She dropped back in the seat. “I’m botching this horribly.”
“It’s all right. You don’t have to talk about anything unless you want to.”
“I don’t, not really, only because like much of life, it’s absurd.”
“Gotta tell you, Ms. Heddings, I don’t think anything about you is absurd.”
“Ms. Heddings.” Her lips curled in a smile. “I know it’s my name, but I’m trying to forget it.”
“Trying to forget never works—trust me on that.” Some things just stuck with you, no matter what. “Look at it this way, you own the name. And honestly, it suits you, same as Marlow does. It’s a nice name.”
Her smile bloomed into a grin. “I’ve always liked it. Cort is a nice name, too. Different.”
“So the married name has been a hassle, I take it?”
“Ugh, afraid so. I already told you that the divorce was ugly, and then Dylan died in a car wreck. I wanted out, I thought I was out—mostly anyway—and then suddenly there were police at my door to bring me the awful news, and my in-laws to deal with, and a funeral to plan.”
That was a lot for anyone, and yet look at her, sitting there with a smile, pleased to be in a truck, and willing to check out fireflies. “I bet you handled it all better than anyone else could have.”
“I did my best, but I won’t lie and say it was easy.”
He hoped she’d never feel the need to lie to him. “Being here, in Bramble”—with me—“is your way of starting over?”
“Yes. The marriage ended months ago and hadn’t been great before that. I have to take some blame for letting things get so far out of hand. I loved my job, and it seemed easier to concentrate on that, to pour myself into business meetings and lunches and projects instead of thinking about how distant he and I had grown.”
“Path of least resistance,” he said, totally getting her. “You have a comfortable place in life, and you hate to blow it up.”
Those big, soft eyes of hers studied him. “Great summary, actually. Back then, the thought of starting over just left me breathless. Then I found out there was another woman, and when I confronted him on it, he wasn’t apologetic. He was just hateful.”
What a fool her husband had been. Weak and unscrupulous, too. Lack of honor was a pretty unforgivable sin to Cort. “I was already impressed, but now? A lot of people would sit down and suffer their misery for a year.”
