She asked the last more of herself as she climbed into the truck. The passenger’s window was open, and she continued speaking to Trace as she pushed the key into the ignition and started the engine. “You had such potential, you know?”
Trace lifted a brow. “Potential?”
She turned and met his gaze. “Yeah, potential. You know, that thing that happens when you drag yourself from the trenches and keep going. You had yourself on a great track. You’d suffered and sacrificed and worked your ass off. You took this job for next to nothing for the mere possibility of gaining work from it.”
Delaney looked through the windshield at the café and gestured to it. “That place is potential personified. You took it from an eyesore that everyone in town wanted to rip apart to a gorgeous place where they can gather together.”
Trace sat there, speechless. He’d been so focused on getting the building done, he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate how far it had come. How far he’d come.
How far he and Avery had come. Together.
“Or, well,” Delaney said, “you almost got it there.” She tipped her head, turning her gaze on Trace again. “The way you almost reached your own potential.”
The knife in his gut twisted.
Delaney put the truck into gear and laid her arm over the seat to back out. “It’s a shame, Trace.” Her gaze was sad but sincere. “Because you made Avery really happy. Like cheek-cramping, four-year-old-on-a-playground happy.”
Delaney backed out and continued down the drive, leaving Trace swimming in turmoil.
Avery stared out at the moonlight on the ocean from the cozy corner of the breakfast nook in her cottage and lifted the hot chocolate to her lips.
Warmth and rich chocolate coated her mouth and drenched her tongue, and Avery let her eyes slide closed so she could savor the beauty of it. The only thing that could make this better was a hit of Bailey’s Irish Cream.
And Trace.
Her phone vibrated against the table, pulling Avery from that impossible fantasy with a painful jerk. She ignored the message, but her mind drifted to all the texts, voice mails, and e-mails she’d gotten from people not just all over Wildwood but from all over the county and beyond, fussing over the fact that she’d put her website and her space at Wildly Artisan on holiday status.
As for rumors that she was giving up on Wild Harts, those she quashed immediately, explaining she was taking time away to finalize details and recharge for the opening.
Which was true.
Sort of.
She’d done a lot of work in that direction, but she hadn’t tackled the most important task—replacing Trace. That still felt too . . . too permanent? Too disloyal? She only knew she hadn’t been able to deal with the thought of having someone else go in and finish what Trace started.
He chose to leave.
Her cell vibrated with another e-mail. Avery groaned and rubbed her eyes.
The outpouring of interest created a strange mix of gratitude and anxiety—gratitude for the interest and the business, anxiety that she wasn’t fulfilling every order. But it was good to know that even after everything that had happened, there was still an overwhelming interest in her bakery and café. She wished she could share that with Trace.
With a focused, deep breath, Avery forced the anxiety to quiet, reminding herself like she had every five minutes during the last three days that her mission in life was not to make everyone else happy, but to make herself happy first.
If she were to truly make herself happy first, she’d already have hunted down Trace and hashed out what still felt like an ugly knot between them until she could fall into his arms and he would catch her.
“You can’t make him stay,” she reminded herself. “You can’t make him love you.”
And she shouldn’t even want him to.
She’d been doing this round-and-round game for three days, and she was ready to trade heads with anyone who had more control over their thoughts than she did.
Her computer chimed with her scheduled Skype call from Delaney.
Avery breathed a sigh of relief, hoping her sister could break this cycle, and clicked into the software. Her sister appeared on the screen with a tired smile. “Hey there. Before we start, I do not want to know how amazing the beach is. I do not want to know how beautiful the weather is. And I do not want to know how relaxed you are. Deal?”
Avery frowned. “Trouble with the pub?”
“No, I just want a vacation. Want my boy all to myself for a few days.”