A Brand New Ending (Page 29)

A flare of guilt ignited deep. He didn’t like to think about the way he may have treated her during his intense work sessions. He’d tried to explain how important it was that he be on call and throw himself into his career, assured her that it would eventually calm down. That he’d finally give her time.

Had he, though?

“What did I say?”

“You said I wasn’t supportive. That I was being selfish by nagging you, and that we’d made an agreement to support one another in our quest for success.” Her laugh was bitter. “God, I begged you for time. I told you I couldn’t take any more, and you promised to come back that night to talk. I waited for you all night, but you didn’t even call. You didn’t text. You did nothing. Because I had become unimportant.”

“I tried to explain how crazy things got,” he said stiffly. “I brought home roses. I swore I’d take you away for a quiet weekend, but when I got home, you weren’t there.”

“I didn’t need roses or a fancy getaway. I just wanted you to look into my eyes and see me again. I was so lonely.”

His heart shattered. The silence settled around them, throbbing with memories and regrets. “I was wrapped up in my own head,” he finally said. “I didn’t realize how far I’d drifted away, or that I took you for granted. I wanted so badly for us to succeed together—I thought that was the reason we left for California. I wanted you to have it all.”

When she looked at him, he sucked in his breath. The truth in her eyes slammed through him and tore apart every last shred of belief he had regarding their relationship. He realized maybe he hadn’t known the woman he loved after all.

“I already had it all,” she said quietly. “I didn’t leave with you to be a famous singer. Oh sure, I intended to try, but it was never my focus.” Her voice broke. “Singing wasn’t the only thing I wanted. It was just you.”

He jerked at the raw admission, shaking his head as if to deny the pain. “No, we both wanted different lives. Neither of us wanted to end up like our parents—stuck in a small town in a small job. We wanted more.”

“No, you wanted more. Remember what you asked me that day in the fields? The day you said you wanted to marry me?”

The breath stuck in his lungs. “What?”

“You asked if I wanted to spend my life as a glorified housekeeper. Like my mom. And I knew right then and there that I wanted you more than anything in the world. I loved you with my heart and soul, and that I needed to be the type of woman you’d admire. A woman who went for the brass ring and was bigger than life. A star, like you.”

He stared at her, his heart squeezing with tension. Somehow, he sensed her next words would change things.

She shook her head. “Yes, I wanted to sing, but I didn’t look at my mom the way you did. I saw her happy and fulfilled. I saw her laugh and chat with guests and learn about the world through other people. I watched her serve with a giving heart. I thought it was a good life—until you convinced me it would be too limited. Too boring. How could I have expressed that I didn’t mind spending my life in Gardiner, taking care of people like my mom? You would’ve left me. So I tried to change and focus on my singing as wholeheartedly as you focused on writing. It just wasn’t me. I loved singing, but I despised every other part of that world—your world. The world you loved and became a part of.”

She leaned over and touched his cheek. Her eyes glinted in the shards of moonlight spilling into the car. Her musical voice seethed with sadness.

“I only wanted you, and when I realized you needed so much more than just me, I knew I had to leave. Before we completely destroyed each other, worse than we already had. I didn’t run away as much as I returned home to be who I wanted. And I’m not ashamed to say this is who I am. I’m proud of my life. I’m happy running the inn.”

He blinked, trying desperately to fight for clarity as his head spun.

She’d never craved success the way he had?

The truth she’d never truly wanted to leave her home was like a fist in his gut.

Her hand dropped, and she moved back. “So there you have it. The real truth. I don’t blame you for going after success. I only blamed you for not listening when I finally tried to tell you the truth.”

“You were just as important to me as my writing. I would have understood.”

Her soft laugh held a touch of bitterness. “I wish that were true. You told me in the kitchen on Sunday that I was everything that mattered to you. But you never chose me, Kyle. Not once.” She shook her head and turned. “I have to go in.”

His head spun, trying to sift through the words that pounded at him like nails. Her pain was unbearable, and he ached to soothe it away, to convince her she meant everything to him.

“Ophelia—”

“Don’t,” she said softly. “I feel too raw right now. I just need to go inside and be alone, okay?” A tiny laugh escaped her lips. “Maybe it was just too much truth for one night. For both of us.”

She slipped out the door and disappeared inside.

Kyle stayed in the cold, silent car, thinking about what she’d said.

Dear God, what had he done? All this time, he’d believed she hated her life in Gardiner the way he had. But then again, had he ever truly asked her? Or had he just assumed she wanted exactly what he did? Had he been wrong this entire time about how their story had played out?

And if so, was there any way he could make it right to give them a second chance?

He didn’t know.

Nausea churned his gut. Everything he’d once believed was tilted on its axis, challenging him to see things in a new light. The woman Ophelia had become was so much bigger than the girl he remembered. Tonight had only proved it.

This time, he’d make sure to listen to her and be what she needed.

This time, he intended on writing his own ending.

Chapter Thirteen

Ophelia dropped a platter of steaming bacon on the table and refilled her guests’ half-empty coffee mugs. “How are the omelets?” she asked brightly.

The older couple sighed in unison. “Delicious,” Marian said. “I had no idea fresh herbs could make such a difference in eggs!”

Her husband, Carl, forked up another piece of pork sausage and patted his belly. “Haven’t had a meal like this in a while. Ever think of visiting Boston and staying with us, Ophelia? You can have a free tourist weekend if you just cook us breakfast.”

She laughed, charmed by their easy demeanor. They were visiting their son, who’d just had a new baby, but his house was too small to accommodate the new grandparents. She’d already been treated to dozens of pictures proudly showing the wrapped-up-in-a-blanket beauty, but Ophelia didn’t mind.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said, deftly clearing empty plates. “Would you like me to make any reservations for dinner? Or are you eating with your son tonight?”

“Actually, we’re babysitting and letting them get out. We’d love to get them a table at Galveston’s, but it’s probably booked up.”

“I know the owner. I’d be happy to call and tell him it’s a special occasion. I can even arrange for some flowers on the table and the crème brûlée, which has to be ordered ahead of time.”

Marian clapped her hands. “That would be wonderful! Thank you so much, Ophelia. You’re a dream.”