“Oh no!” Nicole reached for him, but he shook his head.
“There’s more.”
She could barely breathe, waiting to hear the end of the story. “When I saw Sara again, everything she didn’t want me to know came pouring out. From the day they married, Frank had been a controlling son of a bitch and when he drank, which was often, he was verbally abusive. He didn’t like how close we were and he cut her off from me, from anyone who could see what their life together was really like. I never saw that side of him or I wouldn’t have introduced them.”
“Of course not!”
“But I did. Because my personal judgment sucks, something I’ve proven twice over. And you know what they say about the third time.”
“Third time’s a charm?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“More like three strikes and you’re out,” he muttered.
Nicole knew better than to argue with a thinking pattern he’d had too long to believe in and let stick. “Did Sara blame you?” she asked instead.
Sam shook his head. “No. But she should. The night she told him she was pregnant, he was furious. They hadn’t planned for a kid. He wasn’t ready and—he hit her before taking off in their car. She packed, planning to leave, but she got a call that he’d been in an accident. And you know the rest.”
“What happened to her husband?” Nicole asked.
Sam glanced up at the clear blue sky. “He died of his injuries.”
“And she was free of him.”
He nodded.
“But you weren’t. Because you still blame yourself.”
He inclined his head.
It wasn’t hard to understand his thoughts. A man who was raised in a family of cops, who protected others, had felt like he’d failed himself and his best friend.
She met his gaze. “You have to see that Sara has remarried and clearly has a wonderful life. How can you be so hard on yourself?”
He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “When it comes to making decisions for myself or people I care about, my judgment is suspect.”
“Because Jenna betrayed you too? And you didn’t see it happening?”
“Both Jenna and Brett. And then Frank.” He clenched and unclenched his hands.
She placed her hand over his, stilling his movements. “That’s on them. The only thing that’s on you is being a good, trusting person.”
“Yeah, fucking perfect,” he muttered.
She blinked in surprise at the vehemence in his tone. She wanted to crawl into his lap and tell him that to her, he was perfect. He was everything good and decent, especially compared to her own family, and she felt lucky to have him in her life. But from the tight set of his jaw, she sensed he wouldn’t hear her, let alone believe.
But somehow she had to convince him that not only did she trust him, but he could have that same faith in himself. Otherwise this push-pull sexually was all they’d ever have together. And she already knew it wasn’t nearly enough.
Macy prided herself on being smart when it came to men. Not so smart that she’d landed herself one for good, but smart enough not to be taken in by the jerks of the world. Until Tyler Stanton. Yes, she knew Tyler had only been spending time with her while pursuing his agenda with Nicole, but they’d grown closer. He’d flirted even after he’d promised not to. At the very least they were friends. And friends didn’t dump each other at an art fair and run off looking for another woman.
After getting a ride home from another friend and stewing for an hour after that, Macy decided it was time she got some answers from Mr. Tyler Stanton. He didn’t answer his phone, so she headed over to the Serendipity Inn. She pulled her little Mustang up to the house and parked on the street.
As she walked up the driveway and path to the front door, she waved to Joanne Rhodes, the owner, who was on her knees, weeding in her flower beds.
“Hi, Macy. How are you this fine day?”
“I’m fine, thanks. Did you get over to the art festival?” Macy asked her.
Joanne nodded. “This morning. I wanted to spend time with my flowers this afternoon. Here to see Tyler?” she asked.