She should be angry. She should be bitter. But she just couldn’t quite harness those emotions. She was disappointed. Disappointed that Bryce couldn’t be honest with her and tell her how he’d felt.
There was something else in there. Grief. But it wasn’t for the relationship. It was for the life she’d thought she’d have. The one that was full of children.
And she could be sad right now. Surrounded by families and kids all excited about Christmas. She’d never be the mum, pushing her baby in pram. She’d never have her tiny toddler’s hand in hers.
That hurt. That made her gut twist in all sorts of ways. But somehow, in amongst the dark night, the crowd of people, the twinkling Christmas lights and the feel of Mitch’s arm around her shoulders, she felt happy.
Marietta, Montana. This place was a random stop on the road. She could have stopped at any number of small towns. But somehow, she’d stopped here.
And thank goodness she had.
Chapter Eight
‡
He’d been so close. So close to just moving his head down an inch and capturing her lips with his.
Last night had been his biggest exercise in self-restraint. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and kiss her. To let her sweet perfume continue to drift under his nose and to feel the press of her body next to his.
The line between them was fading – fast. He’d forgotten she was the girl in the wedding dress. He’d forgotten the shattered look that had been on her face that first day he’d met her.
Now, she was Emma. Emma, who worked at The Graff and stayed in Bramble House. Emma, who occupied every waking thought he’d had for the last week.
School was winding down. The kids were getting excited about Christmas and their vacation time. Getting them to concentrate on anything else was practically impossible. Him being distracted wasn’t helping.
Every time he blinked he saw her face. The twinkle in her eyes last night when she’d seen her boots. How cute she’d looked on the hay ride with the collar of her red coat turned up and her woolly hat pulled down. The tiny bits of hair sticking out around her face and her perfect, pink lips that ached to be kissed.
He’d almost done it. Almost. Then he’d seen her wistful glance at the family sitting opposite. It was like a punch to the gut. A wake-up call.
It was the oddest feeling. Emma didn’t seem like any of the other women he’d dated. Women, who after a few months, he’d had no problem walking away from. He always finished a relationship before there started to be plans – expectations—of where it could lead.
But Emma seemed different. Somehow the thought of even kissing her seemed like a promise of something he couldn’t deliver on. She’d already been put in a vulnerable situation. She’d been hurt. He didn’t want to do that, too.
So, why couldn’t he just stay away?
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out as he walked down the corridor. “No cells in high school.” A couple of kids taunted on the way past.
He smiled. They were right. It was usually him enforcing the rules.
He glanced at the screen. Emma. I’m still not sure about this skating thing. How about I just drink hot chocolate and watch you fall over?
He could almost feel the little surge of adrenaline coursing around his body. Now that the blizzard was over, he’d promised to take her to Miracle Lake tonight. Promised maybe wasn’t the right word. Persuaded was more appropriate. He typed back quickly.
Maybe Miracle Lake will work its charms on you? You can be Torvill and I’ll be Dean.
She answered straight away. Yeurrgh!! No. You’re much better looking than him!
He laughed out loud and stuck the phone back in his pocket. He didn’t believe in hocus-pocus. He didn’t think Miracle Lake held anymore magic than Chris Krinkles’ cookies. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t teach Emma to skate.
And that would require some touching, wouldn’t it?
*
The bridal store seemed empty. Emma cleared her throat loudly hoping someone would hear her. She didn’t even have a bag to put her enormous wedding dress in, and she’d had to carry it through the streets of Marietta with more than one second glance from a passing stranger.
The bridal store was gorgeous, with a hundred beautiful dresses on the rails around the room. All of them offering promise of a wonderful life ahead.
A dark-haired woman emerged from the store room at the back. “Oh, hi there, sorry.”
She blinked at the dress clutched in Emma’s arms and held out her hand. “I’m Lisa. Pleased to meet you.”
Emma tried to push her hand out from under the mounds of cream satin. “Emma McGregor, pleasure to meet you, too.” She looked around a little nervously. It was perfectly obvious why she was here. “Mitch said you might be able to help me.”
Lisa gave a little nod and offered her a wide smile. “Mitch Holden? Sure, I’ll help you. Love your accent, by the way.” She walked out from behind the white, wicker counter. “What can I do for you?”
Emma hesitated. “I’m hoping you’ll help me get rid of this wedding gown.”
“Do you want me to buy it from you? Sell it for you? Or donate it?” Lisa held her arms for the dress and gave it a shake, letting it fall the way it should and reaching for a hangar to put it on.
She hung it against a mirror and examined the bodice and skirts.
“I’m…I’m not really sure. It’s just taking up space now.”
Lisa gave her a sympathetic smile. Of course. The whole of Marietta would have heard about the mad Scotswoman turning up in her wedding dress by now.
Lisa turned from the dress. “It’s gorgeous. A popular style and shade of cream that will complement a lot of skin types. I’ll certainly be able to move it on – as a second hand dress, obviously.”
Emma nodded. Being in the wedding store was intimidating. It reminded her of picking her own dress and the excitement she’d felt. Now, she just wanted to get out of here.
Her eyes caught sight of something on the glass-topped counter. And her stomach did a complete flip flop. It was instantly recognisable. An ultrasound picture. The first one she’d seen since her miscarriage. A thousand little centipedes had just started to march down her spine.
Lisa caught her gaze and moved back to the counter. “Oh, sorry.” She gave the kind of smile that only someone in her position could, her hand on her stomach. “We’ve had some really good news.”
Emma kept her face neutral and voice steady. She leaned over to do what she should ?
? admire the little image “It’s a great picture,” she said, “you can see the little outline really clearly. Your baby looks as if she was having a little kick.”
Lisa beamed. “Yeah, it does look like that, doesn’t it? Adam and I are over the moon.”
She turned back towards the dress. “Now, what would you like me to do with this?”
“Give it away. Donate it. I’m not looking for any money.” It was awful. Lisa was lovely. But she just needed to get out of here.
“Are you sure, Emma? It’s a lovely dress. You could make a few hundred dollars. It must have cost you enough.”
Emma shook her head. “I don’t care. Donate it to someone who you think needs it. There must a bride somewhere around Marietta that can’t afford the dress of her dreams.”
Lisa reached over and squeezed her hand. “There are lots of people like that. Don’t worry. I promise I’ll find your dress a good home.”
“Good luck with your pregnancy. I hope it’s all plain-sailing for you.”
Her voice was starting to shake a little.
Lisa gave her a smile. “Thanks a lot.”
Emma gave a little nod of her head as she pushed the door open and let the fresh cold air sweep around her.
She lowered her head and started to walk down the street quickly – before anyone could see the tears that were falling.
Chapter Nine
‡
The snow started to fall as soon as they set foot outside.
Emma held her hands out and looked up. “I didn’t believe that anywhere else got as much snow as Scotland, but Marietta seems to be giving to be it a run for its money. My mum used to get really crabbit when it snowed all the time.”
Mitch laughed at her expression. He loved her turn of phrase – the way she said some things so naturally and he had to try and decipher them.
“Didn’t she like snow?”
“I think she used to, until my sister and I tried to build a snow man in the living room.”
He stopped walking. “What?”