Chapter Thirty
B urgess sat on a bench overlooking the aquamarine water of the Caribbean, shielding his eyes as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon. When it had disappeared completely, he fell back against the wooden backrest, his gaze sweeping left to the trellis adorned in white gauze that would serve as the ceremony site for Wells and Josephine’s wedding the next day. He’d arrived an hour early for the rehearsal, because he flat out had no idea what to do with himself and being confined inside his room had only made him twice as restless.
A brief check of his watch told him ten minutes remained until the wedding party was due to meet Carlos for a quick run-through of the ceremony, after which they would head to the rehearsal dinner. That meant he’d be seeing Tallulah soon.
His pulse beat out of time, like an unwound clock.
He could safely say he’d never felt this way in his life. A strange mixture of clearheaded and broken. High and low. Originally, he’d agreed to zip-line and cliff jump so he could spend time with Tallulah, but hell if something inside of him hadn’t changed today. He’d let go. He’d learned he could still do something outside of his comfort zone and it wouldn’t kill him. No, he’d actually loved the rush of hurling himself toward the water, the sense of satisfaction that spread through his limbs afterward, like he’d satisfied something inside of himself that hadn’t existed in a long time. Maybe his sense of adventure had been lurking under the surface the whole time, waiting for her to come coax it back to life.
At the very least, Burgess was more than just Sir Savage.
He had a second act in him.
But he couldn’t visualize it just then. Not without her.
Burgess flicked open the top button on his dress shirt, yanking on the knot of his tie to loosen it slightly. Damn the formal dress code for tonight’s dinner. Did Wells and Josephine somehow miss the memo that they were in Central America? He’d sweated more in the last two days than he had during his entire hockey career. Although, the perspiration beginning to form on his upper lip had a lot to do with knowing Tallulah would be there in less than five minutes now.
Yeah, he wasn’t seeing the pristine waters of the Caribbean anymore. He was seeing her completely naked, legs around his hips, begging him not to deprive her of his come. He was seeing the wide, invigorated smile on her face after she’d finished her jump into the lagoon, how his heart had flown up into his mouth in response. Her conflicted expression after they made love behind the waterfall. The pain of that was still with him now, like shrapnel from a bomb that had burrowed beneath his skin and would need a surgeon to take it all out.
He’d fought a war over the last two days... and it was possible he’d lost.
More than possible, really. Hadn’t he lost Tallulah that day in the hospital?
Getting her back might have never been realistic at all.
The thought of going home and coping with the reality of life without her... it scared the shit out of him. For the last six weeks, he’d pushed himself to heal, drove himself to train and fight through pain and discomfort, propelled by one goal: get Tallulah back in his life. And Lissa’s.
If he failed... what then? Wake up every morning know ing she was out there... just not with him? And that she never would be, because he’d taken her for granted once in a moment of weakness? That sounded like hell on earth. And yet, somehow, he’d have to take the lessons he’d learned from Tallulah and continue to apply them, because they made him a better man. A better father. He’d live for her in his words and deeds, even if she wasn’t physically there. Every second of it would be excruciating, but he wouldn’t go backward.
Only forward.
Even if he only had the memory of her to propel him.
When he heard footsteps approaching, Burgess swallowed the burn in his throat and stood, turning to find Wells, Josephine, Tallulah, and Carlos coming down the lit stone pathway, and immediately his pulse started hammering in triple time.
“Jesus,” Burgess muttered. Every time he thought Tallulah couldn’t get more beautiful, she found a way to prove him wrong. Instead of the tight, short revenge dress she’d worn on the first night, she had on a long dark purple one that blew in the breeze, a golden cuff around her upper arm, her hair loose, wavy, possibly still full of salt water from their excursion. She looked soft and sun-kissed and perfect. In every way.
“Hey, man,” Wells said, gripping his hand to bring him in for a quick hug and a back slap. “You been out here long?”
Burgess shrugged, leaned down to kiss Josephine’s cheek. “Thought I’d watch the sun go down.”
The redhead laughed up at him with her eyes. “Were there no hockey games rerunning on television?”
“Hockey isn’t everything,” he said, without thinking, realizing he meant it. He meant it even more with Tallulah standing in front of him with an apology swimming in her eyes—and Burgess knew instantly that it was over. She’d decided to walk away. She’d taken the hours they’d spent apart this afternoon to think and her conclusion was... no. No to him. No to the life they’d fashioned together, a staid single father, a lively and wise au pair, a confused twelve-year-old. They weren’t going to find out what happened next.
It was right there on her face.
His stomach sank down between his feet, fingers numbing, heart giving up altogether.
He couldn’t even feel it beating anymore.
“Can we talk?” Tallulah whispered.
“After,” Burgess forced out around the object in his throat, knowing he needed time to get his head on straight, his own emotions under control. He needed to brace himself, prepare. Although he’d never be prepared to hear she’d chosen to make him a part of her past, would he?
“Oh. Okay, sure,” she murmured, hesitating, then skirting past him to join Wells and Josephine at the white trellis overlooking the coastline. Burgess closed his eyes as Tallulah walked by, inhaling a lungful of her scent and wondering if she could be persuaded to pass on the name of her perfume before they went their separate ways.
He’d buy as many bottles as it took to last him until his last day on earth.
“Okay, everyone, we’ll make rehearsal short and sweet, since we’re due at dinner shortly. There are only two of you in the bridal party, so it shouldn’t take long at all,” Carlos said, positioning beneath the trellis, as though standing in for the priest. He motioned to the area in front of them, drawing an invisible rectangle in the air. “There will be white chairs here in the morning. Two sides. Josephine, I showed you the bridal suite earlier where you will be waiting with your father. We’ve already walked him through his duties in guiding you down the aisle, where Wells will be standing. Burgess, you will be on his right.”
Carlos took a few steps forward, guiding Burgess by the crook of his elbow to the spot he’d indicated. “This is where you’ll be.”
“You could have just asked me to move.”
The coordinator ignored him. “Tallulah, you will be on the opposite side, right beside the glowing bride. But of course, before any of this happens, Burgess and Tallulah will begin the procession by walking down the aisle together.”
That statement hit Burgess in the chest like a torpedo.
“What’s that now?” he asked, noticing Tallulah looking at him funny.
Why hadn’t it occurred to Burgess that he’d be walking down the aisle next to Tallulah? Of course, he would. He was the best man. She was the maid of honor. That’s how a wedding worked. Christ, the act was going to gut him.
“You were both away this afternoon,” Carlos carried on, seemingly unaware of the chaos he’d ignited in Burgess’s sternum. “I couldn’t show you the room where you’ll wait for my cue, so I’ll show you now. Come with me, please.”
In his periphery, he could feel Tallulah staring at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. From this moment on, he wouldn’t be able to so much as glance over. Having the memory of walking her down the aisle in his head was going to be bad enough without being able to recall her eyes, how her hair moved in the tropical wind, how the weight of her arm felt while hooked through his. No. He’d entered self-preservation mode.
“Burgess,” Tallulah said, as they followed Carlos up the path toward the small outbuilding adjacent to the main resort. “Are you... okay?”
He kept walking.
Was he okay?
Was she serious?
“All right, here we are.” Carlos took out a set of keys and unlocked a door marked “Reserved” with an efficient twist of his wrist, turning on the light inside. “This is where you will be expected to arrive at three thirty p.m. tomorrow. On my signal, you will exit the door and walk arm in arm toward the ceremony area. Like so...” He waved them toward each other, but they didn’t budge. “Like so.”
“We don’t have to act the whole thing out. Three thirty, arm in arm, go stand under the gazebo thing. We get it.”
Tallulah frowned. Probably. He couldn’t see her, but there was surprise and disapproval in her tone when she said, “Burgess.”
Carlos sniffed. “Getting this perfect might not seem like a big deal to you, but it will be a big deal to your friends if you get it wrong.”
Fine. That made sense. The last thing he wanted to do was blemish the wedding of two people who’d figured out how to make their relationship work. Two people he kind of loved.
Burgess grunted.
Carlos took that as his cue to shuffle Burgess and Tallulah. “Like. So. ”
Burgess kept his gaze trained straight ahead as they walked slowly toward the ceremony site, her orange and basil scent wreaking havoc on his senses. When they reached the grass where the seating area would be in the morning, his whole rib cage drew tight, so he switched to replaying his final game at Syracuse, as he often did, but the memory of the roaring crowd did nothing to soothe him now. By the time Burgess reached the end of the “aisle” he felt like he’d been shot full of holes.
“Great,” Carlos said, behind them. “Now you two can get into position and wait for the bride and groom to make their way down the aisle, as well. Wells, have you given the ring to Burgess for tomorrow?”
No response.
Wells was too busy staring at Josephine in the moonlight, visibly mesmerized.
Affection radiated back at him from his bride-to-be, their fingers twining together.
For the first time, Burgess ached at the sight of what they had. Coveted it, even .
“Wells,” Burgess said, clearing his throat. “The ring?”
“Yeah, I have it, man. I’ll give it to you in the morning.”
“Great.” Burgess backed away from the group, unable to stop himself from giving Tallulah one last look, starved for eye contact with her after going so long without it, but finding her staring down at her hands, instead. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
T allulah did her best to keep a smile plastered to her face all through dinner, but she was completely numb from head to toe. Burgess had taken a seat on the other side of the room, even though his name card was right across from hers. There was an older gentleman in his place, an apparent friend of Josephine’s parents, and he chatted happily about the Florida weather and how it compared to Costa Rica, but only a third of his words were sinking in.
All she could do was replay the moment she’d walked down the aisle with Burgess.
How distant he’d been.
But Burgess hadn’t mentally checked out, had he? Not voluntarily.
She’d forced him to.
Acknowledging that to herself made her heart rattle and dive down into her stomach, the taste of her martini souring in her mouth. He’d told her that making love with her when she wasn’t all in, sure of their relationship, would mess him up. And it clearly had. While trying to keep herself protected against being hurt again, she’d hurt Burgess .
She’d ignored his request for sensitivity, even though he’d had such a hard time giving it. How could she do that? It wasn’t until later, as she lay down on her hotel room bed, that she realized how selfishly she’d behaved. Tonight she’d arrived at the rehearsal planning to apologize, but he’d evaded her. Avoided her.
Especially now, as he sat as far away as possible.
Tallulah reached for her water glass and realized her hand was shaking, so she pushed it into her lap and took a few deep breaths.
“It could very well rain tomorrow morning, I hear. A little sun shower to keep everything green,” said the Floridian across the table, while forking some shrimp into his mouth. “But you know what they say, rain on your wedding day is good luck.”
“That’s true,” Tallulah said, trying to appear interested, but her gaze strayed to Burgess at the other table and her whole body throbbed, like a giant heartbeat. She wanted to be sitting next to him so badly, a notch formed in her throat. “They do say that. Rain and weddings.”
“It was clear as a bell on my wedding day. That should have tipped me off.”
Tallulah made herself laugh. “Oh dear. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m the one that’s sorry. I let a good one get away.” He chuckled. “She’s remarried now with a couple of kids. Grown ones. That’s the part I can’t believe. It feels like we were married yesterday, but that can’t be true if she’s been remarried long enough to have college-aged children, you know? Time goes by fast, doesn’t it?”
The last few months blew by in a series of colors and sounds. “Yes.”
A chair scraped on the floor and the tinkle of metal hitting glass quieted the room’s conversations. Tallulah followed the source of the sound to find Josephine’s father standing up with a glass of champagne in his hand. “Sorry for the interruption folks, but this is my only chance to say something. Tomorrow at the reception will be the best man’s turn for a speech and well... I can’t let the opportunity pass to tell my future son-in-law that I love him. We both do, my wife and me. When you have a child, you never think anyone is going to be good enough for them. But Wells proved me wrong. He’s not just good enough for her, he’s the only one for her.” He raised his glass. “And I want to officially welcome him to the family.”
A few seats away, Wells pulled Josephine onto his lap and buried his face in her neck while everyone applauded.
“Look at that,” said the man across from Tallulah, his face softened by fondness. “I hope they treasure each other. Love doesn’t always come around twice. And even if it does, it’s going to be different. There are no two exact types of love, you know that? When two people love each other, they create a love snowflake, and it can never be re-created by anyone else.”
Tallulah picked up her napkin and dabbed at her eyes, barely able to speak due to the heart cartwheeling in her breast. “Okay, who sent you to ruin me?”
The man paused in the act of spearing a shrimp. “Come again?”
“Who do you work for?”
Blank look.
“Really? Is it just a coincidence that I’m... I broke up with the guy I’m still in love with... and he’s here and everything you say is attacking me?”
Down went his fork. “You broke up with a man you still love? Why? ”
“It’s complicated.”
“It’s not.” He shook his head. “If you think about the problem, really think about it, it’s never more complicated than learning to live without someone you love. I promise.”
Eyes burning, Tallulah looked across the room at Burgess and found him staring back, yearning etched into his every feature, but he averted his gaze before she could soak it all in. The Floridian followed her line of sight and turned back to her with his mouth dropped open.
“Don’t tell me it’s the hockey player. Sir Savage? ”
What was the point in pretending otherwise? “Yeah,” she whispered. “It’s him.”
“You’re the woman from the article?”
“I’m . . . who?”
The man rubbed his hands together, then turned, reached into a tote bag that had been hanging on the back of his chair, pulling out a rolled-up, glossy magazine. “I brought my copy of Sports Illustrated , hoping Sir Savage would sign it for me. I thought of asking Jim to introduce us, but he’s sort of busy giving away his only child.”
He dropped the magazine into the center of the table. A soccer player from the US Women’s National Team stared up at Tallulah until her dining companion started flipping the pages. “Hold on. I have the article marked...”
When the pages were once again spread, Tallulah found herself staring down at a picture of Burgess on the ice, geared up. Chewing on his mouthguard in a way that was endearingly familiar, even if she’d only witnessed him doing it once. There were smaller pictures, still frames of the moment his back injury went from bad to terrible, and she winced over those, heaviness sweeping into her midsection. She started to offer to help get the article signed, but the man turned the page one more time—and there was Burgess in rehab.
Sweating, pale, pulling on a rope while a trainer directed him from behind.
And pinned on the wall in front of Burgess was... Tallulah.
A picture of her.
Conversations grew muffled in her ears, the sound of her heartbeat quickening and growing louder until it drowned the whole room out completely. Her whole world narrowed down to the photograph. How he stared at it while he labored.
She’d been his incentive.
“He was interviewed for the article, of course. He doesn’t mention the woman by name, but... let’s see...” He used the candle to highlight a passage. “He said, ‘Am I motivated by a return to hockey? Sure. But mostly, there’s a woman. There’s an incredible woman. The thought of her is getting me there. Healing me more than any medicine ever could.’”
Tallulah’s air passage was full of cement by the time he finished reading. The candlelit table blurred in front of her, and she quickly swiped at her eyes; if only she could look at Burgess, but he was standing up from the table, phone pressed to his ear. He left the room, exiting onto the patio, and she felt the sudden lack of his presence like a full-body chill.
She stood up on legs that were as insubstantial as air, holding on to the back of the chair for support while she got her bearings. Where was she going? What was she going to do?
If she really thought about it, there was only one answer.
She was in love with a man who’d had a bad day and said something regrettable, but that moment didn’t define him. His words might have struck her where it hurt, yes. He’d said so many things to her that made her feel... alive and safe and loved, though, too. Right? She didn’t want to go any longer, let alone the rest of her life, never hearing his voice, seeing his face, feeling his hands and breath on her body. Loving him. Being loved by him.
“Excuse me,” she said, forcing her legs to carry her across the dining room.
Burgess had walked down to the edge of the patio and sat down on one of the lounge chairs, a nearby fire pit highlighting the planes and shadows of his face. There was so much noise from the dining room, he must not have heard her approaching and it took her several steps before she could make out what he was saying into the phone, but she finally did.
“I know, Liss.” He massaged the center of his forehead. “I did. I tried.”
Tallulah abruptly stopped walking, hands pressed to her chest to keep her heart from leaping out.
“Of course, I told her that I love her. Believe me, she knows.” He listened. “It’s not that easy. There’s not always a way to fix something when it breaks.” Whatever his daughter said next caused him to tip his head back and exhale at the night sky. “Yes, of course, I’ll tell her you love her. But maybe—”
“Maybe she can tell me herself.”
Burgess went still, a beat passing before he turned his head. His eyes were guarded and God, that tore her up. She didn’t ever want him to guard himself around her again. Not ever.
“Do you want to speak to Lissa?”
More than anything, she did. But... “I was kind of hoping she could tell me in person?” Those words flooded her with so much hope and faith in the future, it almost hurt too much to say them out loud. “Back in Boston?”
A section of the barrier Burgess had erected around himself slipped, a comet of hope streaking across his expression, before it winked out. “You’re more than welcome to come over—”
“Burgess,” she blurted, heartsick and exasperated. “I’m trying to tell you I want to come back permanently.” She took another step forward. And another, until her knee bumped up against the side of his thigh. “I want to come home.”
The hand holding the phone dropped like a stone and he struggled bringing it back to his ear, almost like he suddenly lacked the strength. Once he got it there, he listened for a moment, a lump bobbing up and down in his throat as an excited twelve-year-old voice screeched down the line. “She heard you,” he said, looking at Tallulah, still slightly guarded but getting closer, getting closer. “Lissa, I’ll call you back.” He paused. “ We will call you back.”
And then he dropped the phone and lunged off the lounge chair, catching Tallulah in a bear hug and lifting her off the ground with a choked sound, his hands raking all over her, down the back of her head, continuing down to her spine and drawing her impossibly closer, his breath loud in her ear. “I thought you were done with me. I thought you were done.”
“I’m not. I never would have been.” She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, absorbing the homecoming and safety and completion he’d come to represent. That he would always represent to her. “I would have walked around my whole life loving you.”
His knees dipped. “You love me. You still love me.”
“Of course, I do.” Tears ran down her face. “You don’t think I’d use just anyone’s sweatshirt as a pillow, do you?”
He pulled back slightly, his hand alternating between affectionate strokes of her hair and brushes of his knuckles down the curve of her cheekbone. “I will never make you cry again, Tallulah. I swear to God. I’ve been half alive since you walked out of that hospital room—”
“Burgess...” She searched for the right words, the ones that would put them on the right path. The same path. Words that were overflowing from her heart now, like they’d just been waiting for something to knock them free. “Maybe I will cry again. Maybe we’ll shout and get angry or push each other’s buttons. But our love is going to be bigger than the bad moments. And we know what it’s like now. To walk away. To be without each other. So next time we’re going to fight together, instead of apart. Next time we’ll remember our love comes out on top and we’ll skip the indecision... and get to making up.”
“Sign me up, Tallulah. I never want to be without you again,” Burgess said thickly, shaking his head while cataloguing her features, appreciating them one by one. “My God, I don’t deserve another chance, but wait until you see what I’m going to do with it.” His lips coasted over hers, drawing her into a slow, winding kiss. “I’m going to take you on adventures, because I live to see you happy. And because you taught me to enjoy them, too. But hear me when I tell you, there will never be an adventure that lives up to you.” He looked her in the eye. “I want to stay on it forever.”
“Sign me up,” she whispered. “But I am not cooking.”