Holiday In the Hamptons (From Manhattan with Love 5)

She knew how hard this was for him and she wanted him to know that she understood.

She’d felt the shift in their relationship. Sharing thoughts and feelings had created an intimacy that hadn’t been there the first time. Everything was deeper and more intense.

“Do you want this?” She held up a vase that she privately thought was ugly and was relieved when Seth shook his head.

“It’s hideous. Put it in the Goodwill box.” He peered at it more closely. “On second thought, I think it might be something Bryony made at school. Put it in the box for my mother to check in case she wants to keep it.”

She thought again about how difficult this must be for him, clearing through his family history, deciding what to keep and what to give away.

But love wasn’t an object. Love was a feeling, and these days she knew all about feelings.

She picked up another book, and a photo slipped out of the pages and fell to the floor.

Bending to retrieve it, she saw that it was a photo of her and Seth on their wedding day.

Her hand shook as she held it. She remembered the baking sun and the sheer craziness of it all. Her smile was so big it was a wonder it even fit in the frame, and Seth was laughing and so damn handsome she remembered people nearby turning to stare at him.

She remembered feeling as if she was walking on air, the reality of their circumstances cushioned by an almost unbearable excitement for the future.

Most of all she remembered feeling hope, and when she’d lost the baby she’d also lost that hope.

She’d never thought she’d get a second chance.

Or maybe the truth was that she hadn’t thought she deserved one.

She stared at the photo and saw the love she’d felt clearly visible in her expression.

She’d loved Seth then and she loved him now. Maybe she’d never stopped loving him. She didn’t know, and it no longer seemed to matter.

Emotion rippled through her. She didn’t entirely recognize it. Excitement? Terror?

“Fliss?”

She hadn’t even realized he was standing in the doorway. “Seth—”

“Are you all right?” He glanced at the photo in her hand and smiled. “Where did you find that?”

“Inside one of your father’s books.” She wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. She hadn’t got used to the way she was feeling.

“That explains why I couldn’t find it all those years ago when I was looking. Don’t lose that. I love that photo.”

“I love it, too.” Her mouth was so dry she could hardly speak. She would have liked a bit more time to work out the best way to say what she needed to say, but maybe it was best like this. “Seth, there’s something I need to—” She broke off as Seth’s phone rang. She wasn’t sure whether she felt frustration or relief. “You should get that.”

He answered it, and she saw his expression change as he listened. “I’ll be there right away.” He ended the call. “The Christies’ dog was kicked by a deer.”

Fliss winced. “Deer hooves are sharp. Go.”

He reached for his keys. “What was it you wanted to say?”

“It can wait.” And waiting would mean she had more time to think it through. “I hope the Christies’ dog is all right. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

It gave her time to plan. To make it romantic.

She didn’t want to blurt out those words while surrounded by dusty books and reminders of his father.

She’d tell him that later when it was just the two of them. She’d buy a bottle of champagne and put it in the fridge.

They could take it down to the beach.