“You can hardly blame either of them for their reactions. Or you for that matter.” Elaine pulled up behind Anna’s truck. “Want me to come in with you? I stopped in and turned the heat and a couple of lights on. We should go for coffee tomorrow.”
“No, you’ve done enough, El.” Anna moved to leave, opening the door to the back seat so she could remove her suitcase. “Tomorrow, maybe. I feel a good cry coming on, and I don’t want to do anything rash or stupid.”
“Like packing up and moving to Toronto?” Elaine eased her car into reverse. “Get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
Anna moved through the rooms of her well-loved, well-lived-in home, the slender heels of her new boots echoing on the wood floor. The emptiness around her was profound.
She stopped behind the couch, the kitchen at her back, her hand resting on the worn pillows of the ancient piece of furniture. Her gaze travelled around the room, over every chair, table, shelf, and lamp. The tongue-and-groove walls had grown dark with age and smoke from the woodstove. Some of the double paned windows were foggy where the seals had grown weak. The curtains were… Shit, those were the curtains her grandmother had made for the house when it was built, years before Anna was born.
She unzipped one boot and the other and tossed the shiny black footwear into her bedroom. Snug, stretchy jeans were next, followed by every other piece of clothing donned with such stealth in Liam’s guest bedroom. She traded her new clothes for a pair of leggings and a hooded sweatshirt and began a project she hoped she wouldn’t regret in the morning.
Anna Granger set about to rearrange her life.
She might be stinging from an overload of unplanned encounters, but those sensations would fade. And what she’d be left with was what she had all along. Her self. Her creative, big-hearted, still sexy, newly orgasmic self. Maybe she could get Liam and Daniel to sign sworn statements to that effect and use their endorsements to find herself a local boyfriend.
Humor patting her back, she started with the shelves. Putting a hand to every book, magazine, and object, she made piles, vowing the Must-Keeps would be minimal. Most relevant to her current goal was the Must-Go pile—piles—and, finally, a gray area for things her kids might want. If neither Gary nor Gigi was willing to haul something away or store it at their cottage, it would automatically head to one of the Must-Go piles.
Satisfied with her system, she continued. She fanned the pages of every book after lifting it off the shelf. The occasional shopping list or Post-it note fell out, stopping her progress only if it was written in her husband’s hand. Holding those scraps allowed for a comforting sweetness to bloom over the sadness she’d been carrying for over twenty-four hours. Maybe she wouldn’t have to give up sexy boots and regular mani-pedis or even her house by the water.
Exhausted at last, Anna brushed her teeth and fell into bed, her legs scissoring with the cold sheets, the hood of her sweatshirt pulled over her head. She could do this. Out with the old, in with the new, she thought, breathing her way toward a much-needed sleep.
Sunday was a muddled mess of a day. She puttered in her sewing studio, took a stab at fleshing out the sketches she’d made in Mexico, and gave up. She couldn’t tackle the kitchen until the living room was done, and the sheer amount of crap all over the floor meant a late afternoon nap was her only sane option. At least her bed was clear. She fell into a fitful sleep.
The muffled sound of tires crunching along the gravel and dirt road made its way into Anna’s awareness, separating her from a dream of bottomless packing boxes. She listened from her darkened bedroom, her senses on high alert. The vehicle passed her house and stopped. Car doors opened and closed before it turned around and drove out the way it came. The sounds could mean only one thing. Liam hadn’t altered his travel plans. He’d come back to the island.
Her body urged her to get out of bed and see him. Her heart pulled the covers tight, refusing to leave the warm sanctuary of the familiar sheets and quilt. Her head wanted this uncomfortable state of limbo to be done and over with.
She’d been home twenty-four hours. Her phone was uncharged, so she had no idea if Liam had tried to reach her. She’d had no word from Daniel since they’d parted company in the foyer of Liam’s house in upstate New York, and she’d made no effort to contact her former flame. Her emotions were still simmering and unsettled, although at least one thing was crystal clear: Daniel didn’t want to be in a relationship with her, but he had used her to help find a locked-away part of himself so he could move forward. The more she had contact with the person he’d become, the less she wanted to be intimately involved with a man who had the power to make her question her self-worth.
Anna slid her feet into the slippers by her bed and padded into the kitchen. The glass of wine she’d nursed earlier was in the fridge. She brought it out and topped it off before surveying the mess in her living room. Her nap—and now the knowledge that Liam was home—meant sleep wasn’t an option. Her internal clock was completely messed up, but if she turned on any lights and tried to keep packing, he’d know she was home and she wasn’t ready to have the conversation she imagined they would eventually have.
Anna opened the door to the guest bedroom and shut it behind her, needing to channel
