Cape Cod Promises (Love on Rockwell Island 2)

It was one of the things she had most admired about Trent—the way he was always looking out for his family. Even when they were in New York and he was so busy with work, he used to call home all the time to check in with his parents and his siblings. She’d almost forgotten about that protective side of him.

“I know they’ll always be there for me just like I’ll always be there for them,” Sierra replied, “but back then, as much as I wanted to get out from under their overprotective thumbs, it was disconcerting to be off the island.” She touched Reese’s arm. “I know you can relate to that, since you’re a total island girl, too.”

Trent had been so wonderfully encouraging at the start of their relationship that she’d let herself get swept up in the excitement of getting her work into New York City galleries and building a life in a new city with him. But once they’d moved to New York, he was always working, and she’d found the city overwhelming and scary. She’d felt like Dorothy in Oz, afraid she didn’t fit in with the fast-paced, übertrendy New Yorkers. It had been a culture shock of the worst kind.

“Do you know what I missed most when I was living in New York?” Reese said. Besides Trent.

“Me, of course,” Jocelyn chimed in.

“Exactly. I missed this. Being with friends who really knew and cared about me. Knowing that I could walk to Jocelyn’s or call Annabelle or Sierra, and in a few minutes, we could all be together. I also missed seeing my parents every Sunday morning for breakfast.”

“I missed you guys and my family, too, when I went away to school.” Sierra sipped her drink. “But I always knew I’d come back, so for me those four years were just a blip in time.”

A blip in time? Reese thought about all the wonderful days—and nights—she and Trent had had before things had gone bad. She mulled that over for a moment and corrected herself. Their relationship hadn’t really gone bad. They hadn’t fought or said hateful things. Lonely was a better word. Distant. Whatever the word for it, they’d had too deep of a connection to demean their relationship as a blip in time. Everything about their love had been bigger than life, which was probably why, during the good times, it had been so much more than a blip?and during the unhappier times, it had felt so much worse.

“But you didn’t plan to come back from New York City, did you, Reese?” Sierra asked.

She and Sierra had never really talked about her marriage—or divorce—so plainly before. And even though it hurt to revisit old wounds, Reese couldn’t help but feel that it was long past due.

“No. I thought I’d only come back to visit. Because I knew Trent’s life needed to be in the city. At least, I thought that’s where he’d always be. But now he’s back. I can’t imagine how badly he wishes he could return to the city.”

“Actually,” Sierra said, “I don’t think he plans to go back at all.”

This time, Reese was the one looking at her friend in shock. “Why? I thought he loved it there.”

“Maybe he did, but now that he’s back on the island, he’s working half as much as he did at his practice.”

“Why do you think that is?” And, Reese had to wonder, why now instead of when she’d begged him to work less all those years ago, when they might have been able to save their marriage?

“Actually,” Shelley said, “Quinn was just saying yesterday how much he thinks Trent has changed since coming back to the island. He thinks maybe it’s because he’s watched our relationship develop and finally started to realize everything he gave up by being a workahol—” She suddenly stopped speaking, as if she’d just realized that she might have waded too deep into things. “I’m sorry, Reese. I don’t mean to stir things up for you. Sometimes I talk too much, especially when the drinks are flowing.”

“Don’t worry,” Reese said as she picked up her own glass, “things were already stirring before any of us got together tonight.”

But for how long? Had they been stirring only since last night, when she’d run into Trent again? Or was the truth—a truth she didn’t want to face—that they’d been stirring for far longer than that? Say, ten years or so.

Plus, even though a part of her wanted to believe that he was learning to relax and enjoy life in a way he’d never let himself when he was practicing law in the city, she simply couldn’t believe it was true. Because if it was true, then what could have possibly been a strong enough force to make him change his approach to life?