Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

Holland

T here's nothing like sitting outside my favorite café on a crisp Saturday morning. I can almost believe I fit in as the locals move about Old Town, weaving in and out of picture-taking tourists as they traverse the cobblestones.

I sip my cappuccino, savoring the tranquility and trying to ignore the fact that my heart is elsewhere.

I focus on the people as they go about their day, lost in their own lives. Some are walking their dogs, others are carrying groceries, and a few are simply enjoying the morning like I am. I vaguely note the familiar sounds of Zurich that always hover in the background. The distant hum of cars, the murmur of conversations, and the occasional ringing of a bicycle bell. It's a beautiful day… the type I'm always grateful for, but I can't shake free of the emptiness inside.

My thoughts keep drifting back to Kentucky, to the Blackburns, and most of all, to Trey. It's been a week since I left, the pain still as raw as ever. I tell myself that time will make it better, but deep down, I know that a part of me will always be waiting for him.

With a sigh, I watch two women at a table near the edge of the outdoor patio where I'm sitting. One is about my age and the other might be her mother since they look so much alike. They're sharing coffee and a plate of croissants as they talk animatedly with smiles on their faces. That bond between a mother and daughter is completely foreign to me, since I never had that with my own. Although I can imagine myself doing that with Fi. She'd be the woman I'd want to sit with at an outdoor table, pulling apart flaky croissants and talking about life and love.

I squeeze my eyes shut, blacking out the mother-and-daughter combo and when I open them, I stare at my nearly empty cup. Should I have another or take a walk near the river?

Church bells toll at Grossmünster, indicating the start of Sunday services. The melody always begins with the smaller bells, their higher-pitched tones dancing lightly on the air as if to say good morning. The music echoes off the walls of the nearby buildings and weaves through the streets. As the smaller bells continue their rhythm, a deeper, more resonant tone joins in—the Karls glocke. It's the bell from the southern tower, the oldest and largest, and its sound is profound, almost like a heartbeat. Its toll always reaches into my chest, and right now it offers a grateful reprieve from my heartache.

A shadow falls across my table and I lift my head, assuming it's the waitress checking on me. I blink as I take in the silhouette of a tall man, sun rays bursting from behind him and obscuring his face.

But only a moment before my head begins to swim.

Am I hallucinating or is Trey Blackburn staring down at me, his green eyes determined as they lock with mine?

"Holland," he says tenderly, and my breath is carried right away as his baritone voice sinks into me.

"Trey," I rasp, my throat dry. "What are you doing here?"

He doesn't ask permission, merely pulls out the wrought iron chair perpendicular to me and settles into it. It's as if everything else stills… the tolling bells, the bustling street noise… until it's just us, frozen in the here and now.

Trey doesn't answer my question but lets his gaze roam the area with intense concentration. When his attention comes back to me, he says, "It's beautiful here."

"Very," I admit in a whisper.

He nods. "Seems like an amazing place to live and work."

I have no clue where he's going with this, but I'm compelled to admit, "It is."

Trey nods again, glancing across the street to Bücherwelt, a small bookstore offering both classic and contemporary literature, art books and unique Swiss publications. I follow his gaze there and when his head turns back my way, I'm helpless… my eyes are drawn right back to him, although my voice doesn't seem to be working.

Trey taps his finger against his chin and then shrugs. "Then I guess I'd be down with living here."

That knocks me out of my stupor and I can't help but come off as more offended than astounded. "Excuse me?"

Trey bobs his head, his eyes alight with determination as if this is the best idea he's ever had. "Yeah… I'm sure I could find something here. I mean… hell, I waited tables to earn extra money, so I can do that. And I'm sure there are stables around. Didn't you say you rode here? I'll make enough to contribute to our joint finances and—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I say, holding up a hand. "What the hell are you talking about?" Trey opens his mouth, but I shake my head. "No, wait… start with my original question… why are you here?"

His slight smile melts and his jaw tightens. His eyes bore into me with a seriousness I've never seen from him before. It's something more than the regret of when he broke up with me the first time, and far more profound than when we ended things after Wade died.

Trey sighs, leans forward, and his eyes bore into me. "Nothing sounds right." He rubs his hand across his jaw, his expression frustrated. "I've practiced my apology over and over again, and it sounds too trite. Like… there's nothing I can say to make up for the hurt I've caused you, not once, but twice. So why am I here? I'm here to try to find the right words to get you back and I'm coming up short. All I could think was to just tell you I'll move here and then I'll pester you, eventually charm you, into taking me back."

I shouldn't be amused by him pouring out his angst but the way he ends on an even bigger sigh has my lips twitching. He doesn't see it though, instead taking my hand in his and peering at it. "I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I let my guilt and grief cloud my judgment, and I pushed you away. I thought I was doing the right thing each time, but I was wrong. So fucking wrong, and I don't even have anything to offer for you to trust me again. I've fucked up twice and yet, here I am, asking for another chance. Honest to God, Holland, you should be running away from me right now. I lost you due to my own stupidity and misplaced sense of right and wrong, and—"

"You didn't lose me," I say.

"What?" His eyes are wide, disbelieving. "Say that again."

"You didn't lose me," I repeat, stronger this time. "I was waiting for you to come to your senses. I've been waiting for you to call and tell me you'd made a mistake. I didn't expect you to fly here and hit me with an apology, but I expected one. I think I knew deep down that you and I weren't done, but I didn't know how long it would take you to get your head out of your ass."

"You knew I would come to my senses?"

"Hoped," I clarify.

"How could you even have hope when I've already hurt you once?" he asks incredulously.

I lift a shoulder. "You're a different person today than you were eleven years ago. And…" I hesitate, because this is scraping off the scab and leaving the wound bloody. "The circumstances for doing it are different."

Trey's eyes fill with pain as he nods in understanding. "The first time, I stood aside for Wade to have his chance. This time, I let Wade's ghost dictate my actions."

I wouldn't have put it exactly that way, but we're on the same page. I squeeze his hand. "I will have to say, I thought it would take longer. You can be quite stubborn. Who's the one who talked sense into you? Fi? Kat?"

Trey snorts, rubs at his neck and gives me a sheepish grin. "Gabe."

My jaw drops. "You're kidding. I didn't think you two even liked each other."

"Well, let's just say he's grown on me a bit, but yeah… he showed up at my house day before yesterday. He said I wasn't choosing Wade over you, but choosing Wade over myself. And it made me realize… I deserve to be happy. Not saying I still don't feel guilty about Wade, but I'm going to get through it."

"You do deserve to be happy." I put my free hand on top of his, tears filling my eyes. "And I'm so sorry about Wade. You and I never even got to talk about him. We never got to process his death and grieve together."

Trey scoots his chair over, reaches out and puts his hand to the back of my neck. He pulls me closer and rests his forehead against mine. I close my eyes, focus on the rawness of his voice. "I just couldn't move past the thought I'd caused him to die."

"You didn't—"

"I know," he assures me quietly, leaning back so he can look at me. "I know, and it's taken me a bit of time to accept that. But I'm coming to grips with it. What I can't seem to move past is the thought of a life without you, so coming back to my original suggestion… I'm willing to move here to Zurich if you'll have me. I love you and I want to make my life with you, wherever that may be."

Tears spill down my cheeks. "Kentucky," I whisper and smile as understanding dawns on his face. "I want to go home, and I want us to live our lives together there. I'll work the printshop or muck stalls at Blackburn or—"

Trey's mouth crashes into mine, his hand now at the back of my head to hold me in place. But I'm not going anywhere, instead sinking into the kiss that tells me he very much likes my decision to go back to Kentucky.

He stands, pulling me into his arms, and we continue a long, tender kiss, not a care in the world for those watching us. For the first time in a long while, everything feels right. The pain and the guilt are still there, but so is the love, and it's stronger than anything else.

Trey breaks the kiss, his gaze full of hope. "Let's go home, Holland," he says lovingly.

I press my lips to his, smiling as I murmur, "Yes. Let's go home so we can start over."