An Unexpected Love Story (Love Story Book Two) (29 page)

“Uh, no,” Paul said. I noticed that he looked slightly nervous. “I was saving that for last. It’s, uh, the owner’s quarters. Of course, you wouldn’t have to live on the premises, but it is a full apartment if you wanted to. I figured it would make more sense for it to be yours than mine, since you’ll be dealing with most of the guest relations and everything…” He trailed off his ramblings, and I wondered why he seemed so agitated.

“Can we see it?”

“Sure,” Paul said. “Let’s go through the house.”

Back inside Paul opened a door off the kitchen and led me down a short flight of stairs into a separate living room. It was small, but had excellent views of the lake through a set of French doors. A small garden with several decorative hedges provided privacy from the rest of the lawn.

“Wow,” I said. “ I never would have guessed this was down here.”

“It’s technically a basement apartment,” Paul said. “But since the hill slopes down on the lake side, it creates a walk-out.”

“This is a heck of a lot nicer than the apartment at the inn,” I muttered, walking over to the open kitchen. “Is there a bedroom?”

“Yeah,” Paul said, looking even more anxious than before. “There’s a lot of damage though. I guess there was a flood—part of why they went out of business, I think. The floorboards are all messed up and the drywall is crumbling a little.”

“Through here?” I asked, ignoring his warnings. I walked down a short hallway, noting a bathroom on the left and a closed door opposite. I pushed it open and stopped dead in my tracks.

Every surface of the room was covered in lilacs.

I stood in the doorway, completely confused. “How did these…what is this?”

“I, uh, wanted to spruce it up for you a little bit,” Paul said, coming to stand behind me.

“You did this?”

“Yeah,” he said, still sounding embarrassed. I walked into the room, trying to take in the details, but my senses were completely overwhelmed by the lilacs, and by the gesture.

“You had told me you wanted lilac trees at your inn,” he said from the doorway.

“They’re not even in season,” I said softly, more to myself than him.

“Well, yeah. I had to try a couple florists before I found someone that had enough in stock. I’ve kinda been working on it since I saw the place this morning.”

I turned to look at him. “Why would you go through all that trouble?”

Paul sighed. “I was so excited about you seeing this property. And I knew the apartment would be important to you, since you’ve never really had your own place. And when I saw this room, and it was such a mess, I just felt bad. I wanted you to…I don’t know. Be excited, I guess. Fall in love with it.”

I turned slowly around the room, completely overwhelmed. “You did all this just so I wouldn’t be disappointed in the room?”

“Yeah, I thought it would be nice. But maybe it was a little overkill,” he said sheepishly. “I thought it would be nice for you to see it all filled with light and flowers. But in hindsight maybe it’s too much. Am I a giant dork?”

“No,” I said, turning to him, tears trailing down my face. “You’re not a dork at all. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

I buried my face in my hands, embarrassed for him to see me cry over flowers, but Paul was already pulling me into his arms. “Please, don’t cry,” he whispered. “I don’t ever want to make you cry, Brooke.”

“I missed you,” I said against his shoulder, my voice thick with tears. “You’ve been so mad at me since I started seeing John, and I missed you so much, Paul.”

“Oh, Brooke.” He sounded relieved. “I missed you, too. And I wasn’t mad about John. Insanely jealous, maybe, but not mad. I’m sorry about Justine.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I sniffed. “You were right, it was none of my business.”

“That might be true if I hadn’t done it to try and piss you off,” he said, his voice somewhat bitter. “I wanted you to notice me again, even if it was just to be pissed. I knew it would hurt you, and I did it anyhow. I’m sorry.”

I stepped back, out of his arms, so I could look up at his face. “She was right,” I admitted. “What she said about me. I did use you. I didn’t mean to, but I did it.”

“No, you didn’t,” Paul said firmly. “You just didn’t know what you wanted.”

He was right, of course. All this time I thought I knew what I wanted, but I had been wrong. About all of it. How stupid I had been, to equate love with excitement and flash. Real love wasn’t about how exciting someone was, or how sophisticated. Real love was about knowing someone, truly knowing them, about wanting their happiness as much as your own. It was about enjoying the same things, about agreeing on what was important, about what mattered to you. Real love meant sharing all of yourself, not just pieces, with another person, with someone who understood you and accepted you, faults and all. Someone who would defend you, someone who always had your back.

With crystal clear certainty I could see it now, the life I wanted, stretched out in front of me, just waiting for me to grab it.

“I know what I want now,” I whispered, feeling dizzy and scared and happy all at the same time.

“You do?” he asked, and I saw him swallow as I took another step closer.

“I do. I’m sorry I didn’t see it before.”

He was close enough to touch now, so I did the only thing that made sense. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.

As he pulled me into his arms and kissed me back, the dizzy feeling didn’t go away. But I decided, for once in my life, to stop fighting my feelings. Instead, I gave in, letting the dizziness and the joy engulf me, knowing Paul would still be there holding me when it was over.

It was funny. I had kissed Paul a hundred times over the years—he’d even seen me naked on several occasions. But somehow, kissing him now, I felt completely exposed. Vulnerable. Shy, even.

“Brooke,” he whispered against my mouth. Something in the tone of his voice made my stomach hurt—in the best way possible. He sounded so happy, so
relieved
. “It feels different now,” he said. “Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I whispered back. “Why do you think that is?”

He pulled back slightly and smiled—a face splitting, joyful smile. “Because this time it’s real.”

I smiled back—I couldn’t help it—then leaned forward for another kiss. As my lips melted into his, I realized that he was right. It was real now. Real and unexpected and totally right. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Epilogue

“How you doing?” Paul asked, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, watching as I struggled with my hair.

“I can’t get it to just—be—straight!” I cried, throwing down my brush.

Paul came behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “It doesn’t need to be straight,” he soothed. “Let it be. You look great.”

I sighed and leaned back against him. “I’m just stressed. Not that I really have any reason to be, seeing as how we have like, two guests this weekend.”

“You want to end it on a high note,” he said, kissing my ear. “I get it. Why don’t you come and eat some breakfast? I cooked for you.”

I looked at him in alarm. Last week I had allowed him to make us mac and cheese for dinner and had ended up with a watery mess of noodles and bright orange globs. Paul laughed at my expression. “It’s okay, I tried some first. Come on.”

In the kitchen, Paul led me proudly to the small dining table, on which stood a large vase of flowers and a handmade card wishing me luck.

“Did you do all this?” I asked, grinning at the pure cheesiness of it. Paul had never been one for the big romantic gesture, but my reaction to the lilacs had convinced him of the potential benefit for himself when he played the romance card.

“I did indeed, Murray. Nothing but the best for my girl.”

I peeked into one of the bowls to find sticky-looking oatmeal dotted with nuts and berries. “Yum,” I lied. “Oatmeal is my favorite.”

Paul laughed. “Liar,” he said. “You don’t have to eat it.”

“Oh, thank you, babe,” I said, turning to put my arms around his neck. “Can we stop for donuts instead?”

Paul kissed me. “Sure thing. But we should get going, if we need to stop.” He looked down at his watch. “Can’t be late for work. My boss is totally scary when I’m late.”

“You’re not even working this morning. Besides, I hear your boss is an amazing and beautiful woman,” I said, following him out of his apartment.

“Yeah, she’s okay,” he said, earning him a smack on the arm.

Paul was planning on spending his morning at the new inn, sanding the hardwood floors. I wished I could go with him; he got all sweaty when he worked and could usually be counted on to take off his shirt. It was fun to watch.

“You ready for this?” Paul asked, pulling up in front of Murray Inn. I looked up at the familiar façade, feeling a stab of pain and regret. “I guess so,” I said.

“It will be fine,” he said, kissing my cheek. “Just think of the good things to come.”

“I will,” I promised, kissing him back. “See you at lunch?” He nodded and I climbed out of the truck.

I was surprised by the bustle in the lobby. It was the first day of our final weekend, and I was expecting a low-key, bummed-out atmosphere. We only had a few rooms booked for the weekend, and most of the staff was already gone. But inside I found several staff members hurrying around, carrying linens and boxes back to the restaurant.

“What’s going on?” I asked Bonnie, approaching the desk.

She shrugged. “No idea. I guess people just want to make sure the last weekend is a good one.”

“Hmm,” I said, still feeling like something wasn’t quite right. Regardless, I headed back to my office. I had some emails to answer and calls to make that I hoped would keep my mind off things.

I was only in my office for an hour or so when my mom came in—without knocking, of course. “Sweetie, I was wondering if you could run a few errands for me.”

“Seriously, Mom?” I gestured at my desk. “I am still working here, you know.”

“It’s for the inn, silly,” she said. She held out a list. “I need you to pick up those items. I’d do it myself, but your father and I are so busy. Friends keep stopping by the restaurant. Everyone wants to wish us well. It’s nice, you know, but getting to be a bit much. For your dad especially, I think he would just as soon be done with it all—”

“Okay, Mom, I’ll go,” I said, jumping up. Anything to make her stop talking. I thought I caught sight of a little smile on her face as she handed me the list, but then she was turning to leave and I figured I must have imagined it.

I looked down at her list. It would take me hours to complete this. It appeared as if she wanted me to buy little gifts for every person who had ever worked here in the history of the inn. I shook my head and headed out to my truck.

Just as I expected, it took me until lunchtime to track down each item. She was very specific in her notes. No sooner had I pulled up to the inn than I saw her rushing down the steps to me. “Sweetie, I know you just got back, but I really need you to run to the bank for me. And then Daddy was really hoping Mrs. Miller could make that custard he likes tonight, since it’s almost the last night, but she says she can’t without real vanilla, and I just called the grocery store and they don’t have any, so I thought maybe you could run to Lewiston while you were out.”

“Mom, that’s an hour away!” I cried. “I haven’t even had any lunch yet.”

“Oh, well Paul called and wanted you to meet him at the deli. I just figured you could go eat first and then head out to the bank for me.”

I sighed. I had wanted to eat at the inn that day, and was slightly annoyed at Paul for not realizing that. I was fast running out of chances to sit in that dining room with Paul and my parents and Kellie and the rest of the staff. But the look on her face told me it was useless to argue. I got back in my truck and headed into town to meet Paul.

“She’s had me running all over town today,” I muttered to him. “I haven’t been in the building since nine a.m.”

“She probably just wants everything perfect for dinner tonight,” he said.

“I know, I want the last two days to go well, too. But it’d be nice if I actually got to be there for them, you know? I thought we’d eat there today. Don’t you have to work?”

“Shirley wanted a last shift,” he said, reaching for my hand. “I needed to get some supplies for the floor in town, so I figured it’d be easier to meet here. Sorry.” He reached for my hand across the table. “Did you hear anything from the contractor today?”

“Not yet.” I got the feeling he was trying to distract me from something, but at his words, I couldn’t help but automatically look at my phone. “They said they’d have the estimates to me by three.”

“I can’t wait to hear what they say,” he said, rubbing his fingers across my knuckles.

“Me, too,” I said, feeling a familiar flash of excitement. Plans for The Lilac Inn were coming along as well as I could have hoped. Today the contractor was supposed to send me final estimates and we’d be able to find out if I could actually afford everything I wanted. “God, I hope we don’t have to lose the claw-foot tubs,” I said.

“We won’t,” Paul said confidently. “I have faith.”