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Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Sinclair

At seven in the morning, the world is supposed to wake up and start its routine, but here by the lake, it feels as if it's holding its breath, waiting for something momentous.

The peaceful atmosphere makes it easy to forget the chaos left behind in the city. As Lavender sets the sketchbook on the ground and pulls her knees up, wrapping her arms around them, she turns to face me, her expression contemplative. Her brows furrow slightly, and her lips purse as if she's trying to find the right words.

"It's funny," she begins, her voice carrying a reflective undertone, "how life throws you these curveballs just when you think you've got everything figured out." She lets out a soft chuckle, shaking her head.

"Me, I swore that after two years of dating Theo, he was going to propose—or we would be moving in together or . . ." She shrugs. "I asked and apparently we weren't on the same page. He wanted to be free, never to be attached to anyone. My life suddenly changed because of that one moment."

I bob my head a couple of times. She's right. In one second everything and anything can change.

"Yeah, life seems perpetually ready to toss a wrench into our well-laid plans." I pause, letting the thought linger for a moment. My heart skips a beat as I meet her gaze. "But maybe those curveballs are what keep things interesting, push us to grow."

Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and her shoulders relax. "Growth is painful, unpredictable, and messy. But I guess it's also pretty necessary." Her eyes meet mine, searching, and I feel a fluttering in my stomach. "Do you think we ever reach a degree of maturity that won't require us to grow so fast and so much?"

I take a deep breath, considering her question. "That's tough to answer," I admit, drawing in a breath of the crisp morning air.

After my conversation with Clara, I don't even know if I've grown in the emotional department. Maybe I have the maturity of a toddler. Sure, I can close deals but when it comes to feelings, I'm a fucking failure. I can't even connect with my family, let alone fall in love with a woman.

Who spends eight years of his life with someone and never learns to even care about her? Obviously me. Will I ever find a way to find a deep connection? Maybe I should start with a connection. Maybe make a friend—that's a good step right?

"Mom once said that the day we stop growing is the day we stop truly living," she states. "Which I get, but having your life change so drastically . . . it'd be good if it doesn't happen so often."

"They say life's about change, and growth is just change that helps us become more ourselves," I offer, but I'm not sure if that applies to me or if I even understand the phrase.

What have I done lately that really says, look, he's a better person?

Lavender smiles, a look of appreciation lighting up her eyes. She tilts her head, her hair falling softly around her face. "I like that—growth as a way to become more ourselves. I've never thought about it like that." She shifts slightly, her shoulder brushing against mine, sparking a connection that feels both surprising and right. A warmth spreads through my body at her touch, and I find myself leaning into her.

"I guess that's why I came here," she continues, turning her gaze back to the shimmering water. Her voice wavers slightly, and I can sense the vulnerability in her words. "To find out if I can still change, if I can still grow into someone better, someone happier." She wraps her arms tighter around her knees, as if seeking comfort in the embrace.

Her honesty and vulnerability draw me in. It's rare to meet someone who not only understands your thoughts but shares them. I reach out, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "And have you found any answers yet?"

She ponders for a moment, then shakes her head with a wistful smile. "I just arrived yesterday, so definitely not. But being here, talking with you—it feels like a good first step."

"Talking with me?" I prompt, curious about her thoughts.

This woman is too young and na?ve. I'm clearly the wrong person to be with when she's having an identity crisis or anything. I'm hollow on the inside just like the Tin Man.

"Yeah, as you told me about your wife, I realized that maybe what was missing between Cheating-Jerk and me was real love. I was in love with the idea of finally finding a partner to spend the rest of my life with." She pauses, reflecting on her words. "I'm pretty sure that he saw me as his financial stability or something like that. And maybe he did fall in love with his current fiancée or . . ."

"What's the other option?" I probe gently, sensing there's more she's grappling with.

Lavender pulls out her phone and shows me her ex's latest post from last night. It's a sonogram that says Baby Standish arriving 9/27.

"Based on the due date, she's five months pregnant," she notes. Lavender's tone is even, but I catch a flicker of hurt in her eyes before she shrugs it off. "It's quite funny, really, learning that the guy who never wanted a family is about to become a father."

"Are you okay with that?" I ask, watching her closely.

She shrugs again, a gesture that seems to carry more weight this time. "Yeah, I mean, my pride is bruised, and I'm still worried about losing my business, but . . . just like you, I never gave him my heart."

We sit in silence for a moment, the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore filling the quiet space between us.

"You know," I start, choosing my words carefully, "sometimes, figuring out what we don't want is just as important as figuring out what we do."

"What is it that you don't want?" Her question catches me off guard.

The list is long. I don't want all the meetings I'll have to attend once I'm back in Boston. Maybe I will have to give up and tell my father his company is done, but I don't want to do it. He has to sell it or just close it and give a good severance to his most loyal employees. Probably stop pretending that I don't own my own business or . . .

I have to stop living a double life. But Lavender doesn't need to learn any of that. I doubt I'll see this woman after I head back home. She'll return to New York and I'm definitely not setting foot in this place again. Which makes it easy to lie when I say, "Well, for starters, I don't want any more surprises like my last birthday party. Imagine thinking you're going to a quiet dinner and ending up at a surprise karaoke bash with your ex in attendance."

Lavender laughs, the sound bright and easy. "That sounds—horrifying, actually. Were you forced to sing a duet?"

"Worse," I groan playfully. "I had to sing ‘Endless Love.' And let me tell you, it felt endless."

She giggles, shaking her head. "Somehow I don't believe that you've ever been to a karaoke party—or have had any kind of celebration that doesn't include stuffy suits like you."

"Judgy much?" I tease her.

Lavender shakes her head. "Nah, just calling you out on your lie. But enough about you. It's your turn to ask me."

I nod, leaning back on the log, thinking it over. "Alright, what's one thing you definitely don't want out of your time here in Kentbury?"

She bites her lip, her brows furrowing as she ponders the question. I can't help but stare, captivated by the way she loses herself in thought. "I don't want to just sit around feeling sorry for myself," she finally says, her voice filled with determination. "I came here to heal, not to brood." She pauses, a flicker of pain crossing her features. "And definitely no more getting involved with guys who have more secrets than a spy."

"That's fair," I reply. "No spies. Got it. How about we make a pact? No wallowing and no falling for mysterious, secretive types?"

"Just having fun . . . Unexpected fun, like skinny dipping in the lake, bonfires and . . . More." She extends her hand, and I shake it, feeling a surprising jolt of warmth from the simple touch. My skin tingles where our fingers meet, and I find myself reluctant to let go.

"What's more?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I lean in closer, drawn to her as if pulled by the gravitational force of a hidden planet.

"We can go to festivals, go on hikes . . . Places where there's music, maybe some dancing. It could be fun, or at least a distraction." Lavender's eyes light up. "That actually sounds great. It's a date."

Lavender's cheeks flush a pretty pink, and she quickly corrects, "A friend date."

"Of course, a friend date," I agree, my voice softer than I intend. There's something about her quick smile and her earnest eyes that makes me want to agree to just about anything. I find myself getting lost in her gaze, wondering if she feels the same inexplicable pull that I do.

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