“You ready?”
“Sure,” she said at once, then told Connie. “I’m going to ride back to Chesapeake Shores with Connor and little Mick. You don’t mind, do you?”
Connie looked immediately flustered by the news, so Connor stepped in. “Uncle Thomas, I know Connie never had lunch. Why don’t the two of you grab a bite? It’s the least you can do to pay her back for all the hours she’s put in to help you out.”
“He doesn’t have to take me to lunch,” Connie protested, her embarrassment evident in the blush that tinged her cheeks.
“But I’d enjoy it,” Thomas said, though he avoided her gaze and cast a suspicious look toward his nephew.
Connor barely resisted the desire to say, “I thought you might.”
Though she still looked flustered, Connie accepted the invitation. “I am starving,” she admitted. “It’s been a busy day, and I skipped breakfast, too.”
“Then you definitely have to eat,” Thomas said. He turned to Connor and Heather. “Thanks for the help today. I’ll catch up with you later.” The glint in his eye suggested that when he did, Connor was in for a stern talking-to.
Connor stood next to Heather and watched them go. “Worked like a charm, if I do say so myself,” he said with satisfaction.
Heather didn’t seem quite as impressed with the success of their plot. “It’s lunch, Connor. Given how cautious those two are, it could take months before either of them admits to their feelings, much less acts on them.”
He turned his gaze on her. “What about you? Are you ready to admit your feelings?”
She frowned at the question. “I’ve never denied my feelings.”
Connor grinned. “Then how about acting on them?” he inquired hopefully.
Rather than responding, Heather glanced pointedly at little Mick. Though he looked to be asleep on a chair, there was no telling when he might awaken and overhear.
“Later,” Connor said, acknowledging her concern.
Once they were in his car heading home, he glanced her way. “How about stopping for a late lunch of our own? There’s a great place on the water in the next town.”
“But I’m all hot and sweaty,” she protested.
“It has an outdoor deck. Most people come straight off their boats. It’s not fancy. And the crabcakes are excellent. Don’t tell Dillon Brady I said so, but I think they’re even better than his.”
She nodded, though with obvious reluctance. “Okay, then.”
Connor wondered when he’d become so easily satisfied by such small victories. Still, he couldn’t deny being pleased that they’d have another hour or two together. He kept hoping they could recapture their once easygoing relationship, the days when they talked for hours about everything going on in their lives.
Now he felt awkward half the time, as if he hardly knew her, much less had shared a home and a child with her. But he was sure if they got back on their old footing, it would only be a matter of time before she’d accept that his proposal was sincere.
At the bayside restaurant, he carried his still-sleeping son onto the deck and settled him in his lap. Mick stirred slightly, then woke. Seeing all the food around them, his eyes widened. “Fries,” he pleaded.
“Just like me,” Connor said with a laugh. “He’s going to grow up to be a fast-food junkie.”
“Not on my watch,” Heather retorted.
“Who are you kidding?” Connor teased. “You’re as addicted to fries as I am.”
She laughed. “Okay, maybe just a little. But all the rest of it, no way.”
When they’d placed their order, she sat back and looked around at the lively crowd, the serene tree-shaded setting, the boats lined up along the dock, and smiled. “This is nice. Thanks for suggesting it.”
“I thought you’d like it. They sometimes have great music on Saturday night. We’ll have to come.” He kept his tone casual.
Though she looked vaguely disconcerted, she nodded. “Sure. One of these days.”
He caught her gaze and held it. “Heather, do we need to start from scratch? Would that make a difference?”
“What do you mean?”
“Go on dates?”
She smiled at the suggestion. “I think we’re a long way past the dating stage,” she said, glancing toward little Mick.
Connor wasn’t going to be put off so easily. “But maybe if we went back, started again from where I am now, you’d be able to accept that I really do want to marry you.”
“Do you think my memory is that faulty?” she asked. “Am I supposed to forget how vehemently you’ve opposed marriage since the day we met?”
Connor regarded her with frustration. “Why can’t you see that I’ve changed? You wear rose-colored glasses when it comes to the whole world, but you’re still viewing me through that same old dark lens.”
“No, I’m viewing you realistically,” she argued. “Nobody changes a core belief overnight, Connor. Core beliefs run too deep. They go into the very soul of who you are.”
“And that’s that? There’s no way to move forward?” he asked, exasperated by her refusal to give an inch. “I’ve quit my job handling divorces. I’ve moved down here to be closer to you and our son. I’ve bought the house you love for the three of us. What else is it going to take?”
Again, probably because she had no rational answer, she looked to their son. “This is not the time to discuss this,” she said quietly.
“Will there be a time?”
He could read the sorrow in her eyes, see the confusion as she shrugged.
“I don’t know, Connor. I just don’t know.”
What Connor couldn’t figure out was how on earth he was supposed to fight for their future when she didn’t seem to want to try.
* * *
After their awkward conversation on Saturday, Connor had never felt so defeated in his entire life. He’d seen the future he wanted, reached out to claim it despite all of his long-held misgivings about marriage, and lost yet again. When he wasn’t drifting in a sea of despair, he had to curse the bitter irony. Maybe he should give up and accept Heather’s decision,
