Holiday In the Hamptons (From Manhattan with Love 5)

She dug her hands into the pockets of her cutoffs. “It wasn’t a mistake. You did the right thing.” She’d kicked off her shoes and was barefoot, but that didn’t surprise him.

She’d spent half her summers barefoot, her toes dusted with sand.

It had taken him a while to figure out that when she came to the Hamptons she wasn’t just throwing off her shoes, she was throwing off her life.

“No, I didn’t. I did what you wanted me to. Not the same thing. And by the time I realized my mistake I couldn’t get near you. Between your sister and your Rottweiler brother—” He saw alarm flash in her eyes.

“He doesn’t know about the baby. I never told him.”

“I figured that out a long time ago. What I had a harder time understanding was why you didn’t tell him.”

“Because he was already mad at you. If he’d known I was pregnant—”

“I would have handled it. I would have handled him.”

She shook her head. “Daniel has always been protective, but back then—”

“I understand. He’s your big brother. It was his job to stop you being hurt, but once we got involved it was my job, too. I would have protected you.”

“I didn’t want that. I ruined your life, Seth. You should hate me.”

He couldn’t have been more shocked.

“This is the reason you’ve been avoiding me? Because you think you ruined my life?”

“Partly.”

“Do I look ruined to you?”

Her gaze met his. “No.”

“Because I’m not. I’m older and wiser, I hope. But not ruined.” He could hear the rapid snatch of her breath above the rolling crash of the waves.

“Do you ever wish—” She stopped, that tantalizing half sentence hovering in the air between them, leaving him wondering what the other half would have been.

Over the past ten years he’d wished a thousand things. He’d wished their relationship hadn’t been so intense, that they’d met later when they were both ready for it, that he’d thought less about his own pain and more about hers. Most of all he’d wished he hadn’t let her walk out of his life.

Regret was a solid ache behind his ribs.

“Do I ever wish—?”

“Nothing. Forget it. I have to go. Grams will be wondering where I am.”

He could see the faint trace of tears on her cheeks and the outline of her mouth.

He knew how that mouth would feel under his. How it would taste.

But he wasn’t going there.

Not yet.

Last time they’d done everything the wrong way. Passion had overwhelmed everything. Next time he was determined it was going to be different.

And there was going to be a next time.

“Does your grandmother know you’re Fliss?”

“Are you kidding? Who do you think made the cookies?”