Cape Cod Promises (Love on Rockwell Island 2)

“Maybe we shouldn’t make any promises today,” she said softly. “Maybe we could just browse and enjoy the day, okay?”

For a moment, she thought he might push his case again, but then his lips curved up into a smile and he said, “I already am enjoying the day, Reese. More than I’ve enjoyed anything in a very long time.”

There was nothing more beautiful than Trent Rockwell’s smile. And even though they’d been skirting the edge of some really difficult memories so far today, her heart suddenly felt like it was flying.

* * *

THE SUMMER TRENT had met Reese and everything had seemed so new and exciting, they’d often visited flea markets, galleries, and old bookstores. He’d just come out from under several grueling years of law school, and while he knew that just about anything would feel like a reprieve, what he felt when he was with Reese was miles beyond anything he’d ever experienced.

Now, just getting to hold her hand as they walked from one booth to the next, rocked him to the core. This was what he wanted—another chance at a life with Reese.

But would she ever want that, too?

Sometimes, when she forgot the past, she smiled up at him so easily. Other times, however, he could see the clear hesitation hovering in her eyes. She was here with him today, but that didn’t mean she’d forgiven him for hurting her. Or that she ever would forgive him enough to give him a second chance at loving her the way she deserved to be loved.

He was so incredibly lucky that she’d agreed to this date, and he wanted to understand everything she was feeling so that he could make sure he never made the same mistakes again.

But he knew Reese well enough to understand that she had to be totally, one hundred percent ready. Until she felt she could handle it—all of it—it didn’t matter how much he pushed. He’d only push her away if he wasn’t careful. His mother, Abby, had always said, Reese really thinks things through. It’s one of the things I love best about her—that I always know she’ll give every option careful consideration. Trent loved that, too, and now all he could hope was that she’d carefully consider being with him again, rather than outright rejecting him for his past mistakes.

He’d wait as long as it took for her to make up her mind. He felt as if he’d lived a lifetime in the last ten years, and now he knew what would fulfill him and what he’d been holding out for all these years.

Reese.

Just then she made a happy little sound and tugged him toward a booth full of books. It was just what she used to do when they would go to a flea market together, and yet again he prayed that this outing meant she was going to give him a chance at reconciliation. Because he honestly wasn’t sure how he could ever move past her again.

Again? Who was he kidding? He’d never moved past her in the first place. Wasn’t that why he’d found something wrong with every woman he’d dated since their divorce? Wasn’t that why the idea of moving back to the island had been slowly simmering for all these years? Wasn’t that why he’d bought the wrapping paper and why almost every other thing he’d ever purchased had been with her at the forefront of his mind, from linens—Ooh, let’s get the super-high thread count. I love the softness!—to the shirts he wore—I love you in black and navy.

Reese picked up one of the books to show to him. “Are you still looking for this one?”

He was an avid collector, and it meant a great deal to Trent that after all these years, Reese still remembered his treasured list of books. In the first weeks they’d dated, he’d told her about the books he wanted to read. The books weren’t the old classics, but they had been suggested to him over the years by friends with similar interests, professors, his family. They ranged in topics from philosophy to nonfiction recounts of war stories. Reese had suggested that he start a list, much like her inspiration notebook. She’d jot down things she wanted to paint. When she was in search of inspiration, she’d flip through the list and find a note she’d scribbled at an earlier time, and it would spark a painting. Before they’d married, she’d bought Trent a special leather-bound notebook for his list, which had become one of his treasured possessions.

“I am. And I can’t believe you remember the list so well still.”

“I remember everything, Trent. Not just the bad, but the good, too.”

He couldn’t help but press his lips to hers. For a second she went still, but he didn’t want to pull away, and when a soft, surrendering sigh escaped her lungs and filled his, he knew he didn’t need to.