He made another attempt at humor. “Then I’m astonished you haven’t snapped me up.”
“Oh, Connor, how can I? I can’t accept a relationship that’s less than everything it could be. I don’t want that for myself. I don’t want it for little Mick. And, believe it or not, I don’t want it for you, either.” She pulled her gaze away. “You should probably leave now.”
Connor started to argue, but in the end, what was left to say? That he thought what they had was worth fighting for? It was. That he loved her? He did. She knew all of that.
And it still wasn’t enough.
* * *
Thomas had a pounding headache, the same one he usually got when he went over research that showed pollution levels in the Chesapeake Bay weren’t improving as quickly as they should be. The problem, he believed, didn’t lie with lax laws. It was with erratic enforcement by all of the states with tributaries that fed into the bay.
He’d pushed aside the report and was about to ring for Kevin to join him to hammer out a new battle plan, when someone tapped on his office door and stepped inside.
“Connie!” he said, his mood brightening at the unexpected sight of her, the way it did when the sun unexpectedly peeked out from behind a cloud an a dreary gray day. “Was I expecting you today?”
She laughed. “Now that’s a question I can’t answer, can I? I did speak to your receptionist a few days ago, and she put me on your calendar.”
He winced. “I suppose I should pay more attention to that, but distraction’s a bad habit of mine.”
“Is this a good time?” she asked.
“If you’ll go with me for a cup of coffee and some conversation, it’s an excellent time,” he said. He gestured to the research papers on his desk. “I’ve just spent the morning trying to absorb more depressing news.”
“Would you share it with me?” she asked eagerly.
He regarded her with amazement. “You actually want to read a bunch of statistics and dire predictions?”
“The whole point of me coming up here is to get up to speed on the latest research,” she said. “It seems as if my timing is perfect.”
Thrilled by the idea of a captive audience, Thomas grabbed the papers, then showed her out of his office. They walked to a small waterfront café mostly frequented by those who worked along the nearby Severn River. It didn’t have much atmosphere, but the tables were clean and the coffee was strong and plentiful.
“I am so excited about this,” Connie said, sitting across from him. “I spoke to Shanna yesterday, and she’s ecstatic that we’re going to be doing these speaking events. She and I even roughed out a timetable for you. We weren’t sure how many you wanted to schedule, so we just listed all the bay-front towns that might be receptive to such an event. We can schedule as many or as few as you’d like.”
Thomas chuckled at her enthusiasm. “I knew I’d chosen the right people to do this. You’ll have me working every Friday night and Saturday if I’m not careful.”
“The way I hear it, you work all the time, anyway,” she said, then blushed. “That’s the family view, anyway.”
“It is, indeed,” he said, not denying it.
“Is that what happened to your marriages?” she asked, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I have a habit of talking before my brain engages. It’s just that I know you’ve been married twice, so I wondered if being a workaholic contributed in some way…” Her voice trailed off as she flushed with embarrassment.
Thomas couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from the sudden pink in her cheeks. When was the last time he’d met someone who spoke with such an intriguing blend of candor and naiveté?
“I’m actually surprised the family grapevine didn’t supply that bit of information as well,” he said with humor. “It’s true. My wives tired of me being married to my work. It was worse, as you might imagine, when I was actually working on the Chesapeake Shores development with Mick and trying to fight for the bay’s preservation at the same time. If my wife saw me one night out of seven, it was a bonus,” he admitted ruefully. “It took her a year to tire of it.”
“That seems awfully quick to bail on a marriage,” Connie said.
“Not when the handwriting’s already on the wall,” he said.
“And wife number two?”
“Oh, she came in with her eyes wide open, claimed to love the fact that I was so passionate about my work. It turned out that gave her plenty of time for a few little dalliances on the side. We agreed to end it after nine months. I’ll never know if she might have been faithful if I’d been around more. I like to think so.”
“Then I suppose you’re as jaded when it comes to marriage as Connor?” she said, looking saddened by the idea.
“No, indeed. I’m an optimist. Or is it called crazy when a person keeps doing the same thing and expecting a different outcome?”
“I’d call it hopeful,” she said. “Why do you suppose Connor can’t see that?”
“Because he’s not ready to admit he’s been wrong,” Thomas said. “O’Briens hate acknowledging their weaknesses. He’ll come around and marry Heather, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
“It just seems such a shame that he’s throwing away this incredible chance at happiness,” Connie said, then held up her hand. “I didn’t come up here to discuss all these personal O’Brien family dynamics. Tell me what that impressive pile of papers says.”
Thomas nodded. “I’ll try to give you the short version, but my enthusiasm is likely to get the better of me. When you’ve heard enough, just say the word.”
She leaned closer, as if trying to read the papers upside down. “Not going to happen.” She squinted. “What does this say? Something about the oyster population?”
Thomas nodded, then turned the pages so she could see them more clearly. There was
