ChapterThree
Delaney steered her ten-year-old Toyota Corolla out of Houston and down Route 45 to Galveston, where she’d catch the airplane to take to the small coastal island for the wedding. It was Sunday morning and her eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. For the past two nights, she’d tossed and turned, thinking about Caroline’s “reunion” and their reaction to seeing her. The bridal shower had been an unmitigated disaster, with resentment coming off the other bridesmaids in waves and guests of Caroline sneering at Delaney the whole time.
That had been the first time she had seen most of these people in a social setting since the arrest. She’d avoided most of her friends, which honestly wasn’t hard since she’d been focused on her family and survival mode for the first year after her father’s arrest. Caroline’s accusation that she had cut them out of her life still stung, but it had been all about self-preservation. But now, the past five years and her history were coming back to slap her in the face. Not only would she see all her former society friends, she’d be thrown into close quarters with the three women she had lived with in college. And he would be there too.
Ethan.
Pain twisted in her chest, something she felt every time she thought about Ethan or heard his name. She missed him. Missed his strength. Missed his teasing side, not letting her take herself too seriously. Missed being in his bed. They might have been Houston’s golden couple, but they were fire and ice in the bedroom. Only with Ethan had she ever let go completely, and she burned for him. She couldn’t bear to see that fire extinguished by hatred and vitriol. She had broken it off in a cowardly way, doing it at a charity event in front of all their friends and then running before he could stop her. It was the only way she could do it, could survive it.
Since their breakup, Delaney hadn’t seen him except once in the past five years. About a year after she broke their engagement, he came to a museum event, probably at the urging of his stepmother. He had a replacement on his arm, another society darling. A blond-haired, blue-eyed petite beauty. If Delaney didn’t know any better, she’d think that girl was a replacement for her. When confronted with Ethan, he had stared through her, as if he didn’t even see her, as if she hadn’t mattered, as if she didn’t exist. That was the one and only time Delaney had cried, hiding in the bathroom in the employees’ lounge, tears flowing.
How would their meeting be this time? Would he be cruel, looking right through her? She doubted it. He’d be forced to interact with her, unable to pretend she didn’t exist. Maybe he’d gotten over her and they’d be almost strangers. Strangers who’d slept together and planned to marry. Either way, it was the perfect time to mend the broken fences and move on with her life. Apologize, have a pleasant week, then return to her everyday life. Maybe then, with her past put to bed, she could move on and accept her changes and find a new path. Although, a small secret part of her whispered that he wasn’t attached, and she wasn’t either. Maybe enough time had passed for a second chance.
She hoped Caroline hadn’t adopted Delaney as her next pet project. Delaney had known Caroline for over twenty years. She was velvet-wrapped steel and possessed a way of deciding what would be best for people and often had the best of intentions. But Delaney really wasn’t interested in being the target of her machinations.
Once Delaney crossed the bridge to Galveston, she rolled down the windows, conserving the barely working air-conditioning, and let the ocean breezes take away all her concerns, including her worries over the coming week. The wind tousled through her layered bob, making her feel five years younger and carefree, pushing aside the small niggling guilt at cutting her hair just before the wedding. She didn’t care. The look was younger, peppy, hip. Freeing, really. A shot in the arm to her confidence that she desperately needed for the week ahead. When she finally pulled into the parking lot in the small airport, where she would pick up the charter, she felt relaxed and prepared to handle whatever came her way.
Then reality hit harder than a wave on the east shore. She really was going. Going to see Ethan and everyone again.
Nerves and something else held her back, physically keeping her in the car, protecting her from any renewed pain that this week would dredge up. Was she ready for this? Did she have a choice?
Delaney heaved a sigh and opened the car door. If she waited much longer, the charter flight would leave without her, and as much as she wanted to bail on the entire week, she couldn’t do that to her best friend. Heat from the hot September sun slammed into her and sweat broke out on her brow immediately. Damn. Even early on a Sunday morning and near the Gulf of Mexico, the heat wave sucked the life out of her, just like in Houston. Hopefully, Whitby Island would be cooler with the ocean breezes and lower water temperatures making it more bearable.
She yanked the cheap, wheeled bag out of the trunk and draped the plastic dress case with her maid of honor gown over her arm along with her purse, already feeling the moisture from the humidity gathering on her arm under the plastic. The flimsy plastic wheels protested any movement and fought her as she dragged them over the rough blacktop of the parking lot. She finally got to the charter flight office, where a bearded older man sat at the counter doing a crossword puzzle, wearing a grease-stained baseball cap. She dug out her ticket and passed it across the opening to him. He studied it for a moment and frowned.
“That’s not here, miss. That’s a private charter. Head over to hangar two to meet your charter plane.” He pointed the way, and she groaned. More walking outside in the heat on the baking blacktop.
She hitched her handbag over her shoulder, tried to ignore the trickle of sweat rolling down her back, and wheeled her luggage over to the designated hangar.
A twin-engine airplane was parked in front of the hangar and a tall man in jeans and a shirt was walking around it with a clipboard, inspecting the plane. The sun was in her eyes, so she had a hard time making out his features. Nor did she see any other passengers waiting for the trip. She stopped about twenty feet away and left her luggage with the maid of honor gown draped over the suitcase.
She walked a couple steps, shading her eyes against the glare. “Excuse me? I’m looking for a charter?”
Without turning around, the man replied, “Over by the gate.”
A chill ran up her spine at the timbre of his voice. It couldn’t be. Caroline wouldn’t do that to her.
“They directed me over here. I’m headed to Whitby Island.”
Slowly, the man straightened and pivoted on his heel.
He pushed back the cowboy hat and studied her. “Delaney Winters. I might’ve known.”
* * *
At the first sound of the woman’s voice, Ethan’s stomach clenched and twisted. The smooth, cultured tone, with underpinnings of a Houston accent, a tone he hadn’t heard in a few years. He told himself that tone, that accent, was common to society in Houston. Lord knew he’d attended many society events hosted by his stepmother, constantly turning to hear a voice, hoping, praying it was her. But it never was. She was gone, erased from his life like a death in the family, yet haunting him at odd moments like a ghost of a long-lost love. Unfortunately, he still found himself looking for Delaney Winters around every corner. Just when he’d vowed to move on, maybe find happiness with someone else, Matthew’s wedding slapped him in the face with the past, a past he’d hoped was buried forever.
At the second sound of her voice, his heart stuttered and stopped, then restarted again. Or maybe it started again for the first time in five years, since the breakup of their engagement. Either way, he had to man up and deal with the situation and not let her see his emotions roiling beneath the surface.
He pivoted on his boot heel. He shoved his hat out of his face and studied the tall blonde staring him down. Damn, it really was her. And, of course, the sun was streaming down at just the right angle to spotlight her, a halo for an angel. Only, her wings were clipped and the halo forever tarnished, or sold to cover her family’s many debts. His gaze wandered over her narrow frame. She had always been thin, but it was more from starvation and an over-enthusiastic regard for exercise, which often included sex with him. Now, she had grown, filled out a little and had curves in all the right places. She wasn’t soft, by any means. The hardness in her eyes and the tension bracketing her lips reflected how she’d aged and grown up.
A spurt of attraction shot through him, or maybe lust. He’d been too long without a woman, stayed sequestered on the vineyard too long, so it was only natural. At least that was what he kept telling himself. What kind of masochist lusted after a woman who had ripped out his heart and stomped all over it? He’d thought he’d been prepared to see Delaney, but his body’s reaction, the clenching deep inside and the shot of attraction, was back as if the past five years had never happened. But it had and he could control his body.
“Delaney. Been a while.”
She nodded, a regal inclination of her head, but her eyes showed a hint of panic. “Ethan. Where’s the pilot?”
He pulled off his hat and slapped it against his leg, enjoying her stress. “You’re looking at him.”