Their Last Second Chance Page 11

  “Trust myself?” Her brows furrowed. “I do that.”

  He paused a moment, then said what he’d been meaning to say ever since he found out about her career at a light and frothy magazine. He’d been surprised to find out the untamable Mellie ended up at a magazine as shallow as a wading pool. “I think it’s safe to write about kale salad, and the woman I remembered never played it safe.”

  The Mellie he remembered took chances. She was the first to leap into a swimming hole, the one person he knew who wasn’t afraid of the dark or bears in the woods or anything else. Sure, she’d broken a few rules along the way—okay, almost all of them—by skipping school or swiping a pack of gum from the corner store, but there’d always been this sense of adventure, of danger about her.

  She’d been the one he wanted to be. The one who ran with things, and didn’t fall into the prescribed life someone else had laid out for her. Maybe he’d been channeling a little of that the day he quit working for his father. “Where did that side of you go? It’s like one day you woke up and changed into someone else. What happened to the risk-taking girl I fell in love with?”

  She shook her head and turned away from him. “You don’t know me anymore, Harris. You don’t know my life. Risks can get you hurt, and I’ve had enough of that, thank you very much.”

  Something had happened to her, something that kept inserting itself between them. Whatever it was had tamed the wild in Mellie, but it also extinguished a lot of the light that he loved about her. “Once upon a time, you could tell me anything.”

  “And once upon a time, you broke my heart.”

  He scoffed. “Me? You were the one I caught with someone else.”

  “And what did you do? Believed the worst about me instead of talking to me. So don’t stand here, Harris, and act like you’re someone I can trust. You broke up with me, not the opposite.”

  “Then tell me now—what you were doing that night?”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore, Harris. It’s in the past. And I’m over it.” But tears shimmered in her eyes and her words shook. Ten years may have gone by, but the night still stung. “It’s too late to rewrite history.”

  “I don’t want to rewrite the past.” They’d been young, immature, and maybe it was best to leave all that in the rearview mirror. He wished he could go back and handle it better, not let his pride and temper keep him from listening. “But maybe we could start over, in the here and now.”

  “You know how you could help me out? Change my life? Make it up to me?” She closed the space between them and raised her chin. “Tell me what happened the night of the fire. Tell me why you’re doing so much for a family you barely know.”

  It took him a second to make the connection, to realize she wasn’t asking for a second chance for them. She was asking him to give her a second chance at her career. “Is that all I am to you? A scoop for some big-city paper?”

  “What, do you feel like I’m using you? Well, why shouldn’t I? All I ever was to you was a way to piss off your father. I was the wild girl he disapproved of, the one person he would have done anything to get rid of. Instead, you did that yourself. The one night I needed you most, you left me.” She gathered up the scraps of label, crushing them into a ball in her fist. “So let’s not pretend that either one of us wants each other for something real.”

  She spun away and went inside. The door shut with a slap that sounded as loud as a shot in the quiet dark.

  Chapter Nine

  Damn it, damn it, damn it.

  Melanie had let Harris get to her. The dark night, quiet conversation and trip down memory lane had softened her heart toward him. Then he’d reminded her of the night they’d broken up and the devastation that had followed. She’d lashed out like a rattlesnake, and instead of finessing her way to an interview, she’d thrown their breakup—and her real reasons for getting close to him again—in his face.

  She had headed up to her room, shut her door and sat there in the dark for a long time, thinking about her life and how it had turned out. Thinking about mistakes, lost chances, detours. Deep regrets.

  It’s like one day you woke up and changed into someone else. What happened to the risk-taking girl I fell in love with?

  That girl had stood in her bathroom the day before they’d broken up, cramping and bleeding and realizing something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. It had taken losing her baby for Melanie Cooper to realize that all her bad, impetuous choices had led to the biggest failure she could imagine. A failure that had hurt someone she’d never get to meet. Maybe she hadn’t caused the miscarriage by drinking too much at a keg party or racing into the icy ocean in just her underwear, but she also hadn’t done anything to protect her baby, either, or to avoid a pregnancy by being more careful with birth control. She had vowed in that moment to change her life, to go to college and be more than the girl who broke the rules and got away with it.

  She tossed and turned, then got up in the morning and started writing. She wrote up the story about Stone Gap’s eldest resident on her computer, then emailed it to Saul. She grabbed a bite to eat in the kitchen, partly sad that Harris wasn’t there, partly relieved, then went back up to her room, sat by the window and grabbed a brand-new legal pad and her favorite ballpoint pen.

  She began to write, filling the pages of the crisp pad with words. The best way to get out of this town, away from Harris and all those memories, was to use her pen.

  She started the story about the fire with finding the bear in the closet, that tender moment when Catherine had given the bear to her daughter and the two of them had hugged. Then she backtracked to the fire itself, leaving a blank space for what had started the blaze, since she hadn’t been able to get that information from anyone she’d talked to. Maybe Colton Barlow, who was with the Stone Gap Fire Department, knew. He’d been one of the first on the scene. Later today she’d stop by the building project and see if she could talk to him.

  She’d get the story, with or without Harris’s help. And then she’d move on and away from him and everything he made her remember.

  She got two and a half longhand pages written, then set the pad aside. Flexing those long-unused writing muscles had felt good.

  Really good.

  It was as if she was finding herself again by returning to the kind of writing that she loved. The stories that mattered, the stories that would touch people’s hearts. Or would, if she got the rest of what she needed and could do it justice with her pen.

  Crap. She’d gotten so tied up writing, she’d lost track of time. She had maybe ten minutes until she was supposed to pick up Ma and meet Abby at the dress fitting. Melanie left the notepad on the tiny desk in her room, then hurried out to her rental car and over to Abby’s house. Her mother was waiting on the porch, her lips pursed and arms crossed over her chest.

  Ma’s gray trousers and coral sweater could have been the same ones Melanie remembered from childhood. Her mother found a style and stuck to it, pretty much 365 days a year, changing only the color. She probably had three dozen of those sweaters and just as many pairs of practical pants. Maybe it came from the years she’d worked as a receptionist at an insurance company, but her attire always seemed to scream office.

  “About time.” Her mother passed by Melanie and got into the passenger’s side.

  “Good morning to you, too, Ma.” Melanie held the door while her mother climbed in the sedan, then came back to the driver’s side and put the car in gear. The dress shop was only a couple of miles from Abby’s house, which made for a quick car ride. “Abby texted and said she’s running late, too. She got tied up at work.”

  “Well, if she organized her days better, she might be able to get out the door on time.” Cynthia shook her head. “Neither one of you has any respect for a clock.”

  “Ma, Abby juggles more than you and me put together. Her boys are doing great, and she seems happ
y, so you really should lighten up.” They were words Melanie had said a thousand times, but they never seemed to be heard.

  “Because of those boys, it’s even more important that she have everything on track. That’s what I had to do when your father died and left me with two little girls to raise by myself.” Ma settled her purse in her lap and folded her hands over the small leather bag. “At least you finally have your life in order. And I’m sure that when you and Adam have children, you will run your life on a schedule.”

  “I...I don’t think we’re going to have kids.” Melanie parked in front of Daisy’s Bridal Shop, put the car in Park and took the key out of the ignition.

  Her mother put a hand on Melanie’s arm before she could get out of the car. “What? Why? He would make a wonderful father. Much better than that idiot Abby used to be married to.”

  Ma had never liked Keith, Abby’s ex-husband—which Melanie understood, because she hadn’t liked him much, either, given how he had left Abby and her children more than once. On the other hand, Adam, with his charm and good looks, had impressed her mother from the start. Maybe because he was on the cover of the magazines she saw in the checkout lane, or maybe because Adam had a natural schmoozing ability. Either way, Ma had seen him as the perfect son-in-law from the first day she met him. She’d never seen his faults—the self-centeredness, the undependability, the chauvinism.

  Harris would have made a much better choice. Down-to-earth, smart, funny...

  Masochistic thoughts. Harris had proved his disloyalty by breaking up with her without letting her tell him the truth. What guarantee did she have that he wouldn’t do that again? Far better to put the man out of her mind.

  “Let’s go inside, Ma.” Melanie got out of the car and avoided any more questions by holding open the door to the shop—which could double as Barbie’s latest town house, given the decor. Poufy white chaise lounges peppered the pink carpeted floor and space between the mirrored pedestals. Dresses of every color hugged the racks against the walls. A small table in the center of the shop held champagne glasses and a tower of macarons.

  Sweet. If she was going to have to stand around in a fancy dress and exchange small talk with her mother, having a little alcohol and sugar was going to make the whole ordeal much better. Or rather, a lot of alcohol.

  The shop girl bustled up to them, holding two glasses of champagne. “Good morning! I’m Daisy. You must be Abby’s family. Let’s get you two started. You can put your things on the couch there, and while you try on your dresses, I’ll keep everyone’s glasses full of champagne. How does that sound?”

  “Fantastic,” Melanie said. Maybe a bit too quickly. Already, she was feeling the pressure of her mother’s expectations pressing up against all the secrets she had hidden, the lies she had told. The fiction she had spun to avoid facing the truth.

  For all her efforts to avoid risk and go down a different path, she had failed. Again.

  “Great!” Daisy said. “Mom, you’re in dressing room one, and sister, you’re in dressing room two. I already hung your dresses inside. Call me if you need anything.”

  Melanie ducked into her dressing room and slipped into the teal-green dress she had ordered online. Abby had given her sister carte blanche on a dress, determined to keep the whole wedding as simple as possible. The dress had a sweetheart neckline and nipped in at Melanie’s waist, giving her more curves than she showed in her usual jeans and T-shirts.

  “Oh my, that is just beautiful!” Daisy said when Melanie stepped onto the main floor of the shop. “Come on, come on, stand up here.” She took Melanie’s hand and tugged her onto on the pedestals. “Just beautiful,” she repeated.

  Melanie would have to agree. The dress looked even better on than it had on the website. Ma came out of her dressing room, wearing a pale coral mother-of-the-bride dress. It had cap sleeves and a scoop neckline and ended just past Ma’s knees. “Ma, that looks gorgeous.”

  Her mother shrugged, then got on the pedestal beside her daughter. “Abby picked it out.”

  Melanie sighed. What was her mother’s issue with Abby, anyway? “I think it looks terrific. Abby has great taste.”

  “I agree!” Daisy said. “Now, I’m just going to duck in the back and grab some pins, just in case any of you need something nipped or tucked.”

  Melanie glanced at her reflection beside her mother’s. Melanie stood slightly taller than her mother and had dark brown hair instead of blond. They had the same blue-green eyes that could edge toward either color, depending on the day. “Be happy for Abby, Ma. Dylan is a great guy, and I think he’s going to be a great father for the boys.”

  “I am happy for her.” Cynthia turned one way, then the other. “It’s just...well, I always wanted the best for both of you. And you had your moments, but look at how you’ve turned out. Working for a national magazine. Living in New York City. Abby is living in this Podunk town and working a job that pays a third of what you make. I wanted more for her.”

  Daisy came breezing out, a pincushion in one hand. “All right. Let’s nip and tuck where necessary.” She stepped behind Ma first, pinning a dart into place above either hip. “Right here. And here.”

  “But Abby’s happy,” Melanie said. “Crazy happy. Isn’t that enough?”

  “When that man leaves her with those kids, happiness isn’t going to pay the bills.”

  And there, Melanie realized, lay the crux of her mother’s criticisms. Resentment of a man who had died before he could be a father, and a need to keep her daughters from ending up in the same boat, abandoned with children to raise.

  “Dylan isn’t going to do that, Ma. Abby made the right choice. It’s not all about money.”

  “Try telling yourself that when you’re working two jobs to put food on the table.” Her mother shook her head. “You girls need to learn from my mistakes, not repeat them.”

  Daisy scooted over to Melanie. “Oh my. You should have ordered a size smaller. I’ll have to take this in quite a bit.” She gathered up the back of the dress and pinned down the spine.

  There’s an article idea—have your life fall apart and lose ten pounds quick and easy.

  Melanie looked at her twin reflection with her mother and realized that she didn’t want to become this jaded, unhappy woman. All the years she’d worked at the magazine, coupled with Adam’s betrayal, had turned Melanie into someone who put up walls, kept others at arm’s length. But unlike her mother, who pushed people away with an abrasive personality, Melanie kept everyone at a distance. If she opened up, she’d have to let everyone see what a colossal mess she’d made of her life.

  “I need a few more pins,” Daisy said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Cynthia primped her hair and smoothed the front of the dress. “I hope Abby makes this one last. At least you and Adam have a life together. Now if you’d just have some children...”

  “We aren’t going to have children, Ma. We can’t. Because...” When she’d been young, she’d lied to escape punishment, to gain approval, to smooth the waters in a rocky home. All those lies had piled up, turning Melanie’s life into something she didn’t even recognize. Someone she didn’t want to be. She’d ended up going through the traumas of life alone—her miscarriage, her divorce, her job loss—instead of reaching out to the imperfect people who loved her.

  The shop phone rang. Daisy answered it from the back of the store, her voice a low background murmur.

  “Because why?” Ma asked.

  Melanie swallowed and let the truth out. “Adam and I got divorced, Ma.”

  “You got...” Her mother’s jaw dropped. She shook her head. “No, you didn’t. You would have told me. And besides, you two were so happy. Why on earth would you get divorced?”

  “We weren’t happy. We hadn’t been for a really long time. I’m not sure we ever were, really. I know you liked Adam—”

  “He’s a wo
nderful man.” Her mother pivoted toward her on the dais. “One you should have appreciated.”

  “He was a jerk, Ma.” Melanie sighed. How long had she kept that to herself? She hadn’t even really told anyone at work. Adam was a darling of the modeling world, and that made him a star in the eyes of the magazine world, too. He charmed everyone he met, and the few times she did complain about him, her friends at the magazine waved off Melanie’s concerns. By the time the divorce was final, Melanie had lost her job anyway, and it seemed easier to let the lie stand. “He cheated on me, pretty much the entire time we were married. I found out when he came home and told me he was in love with someone else. I filed for divorce the next day.”

  “When was this?”

  “The divorce was final a year ago.”

  “A year ago!” Her mother glanced to the back of the shop, then lowered her voice. “Why would you keep that a secret from me for so long?”

  Melanie opened her mouth to explain, then hesitated. A thousand things were wrapped up in the whys. Her childhood, her struggle to please someone unpleasable, the sense of failure she had battled most of her life.

  Abby breezed into the store, saving Melanie from a response. “Hey, sorry I’m late. Wow, you guys look great. Those dresses are gorgeous!” She stopped by the pedestal. Her gaze flicked between Ma and Melanie. “Uh...did I miss something?”

  “Your sister has just told me she has been divorced for a year.” Ma put a fist on her hip and raised one judgmental brow. “I assume you knew about this and didn’t say anything?”

  “Ma, Abby didn’t know anything. I didn’t tell anyone.”

  Her mother kept talking, as if she hadn’t even heard Melanie. “Why didn’t you counsel her? Lord knows you’ve made that mistake yourself. You’re the oldest. You should have—”

  “Ma—”

  “I had no idea Melanie’s marriage was in trouble.” Abby’s gaze met Melanie’s, and visible hurt flickered in her eyes. “She never told me.”