Also like Jo.
You need to stop comparing yourself to your sisters, Phee scolded in my head.
I plunged my hands back into the dishwater. “What was your grandmother like?” I asked.
Trey started drying the wineglasses, another tiny, shared intimacy. Like playing house. “I don’t remember her. When I was born, my father and grandfather were barely speaking to one another. I remember he went to her funeral. My father.”
I was greedy for these glimpses of the bits he usually kept hidden: his corded forearms beneath his rolled-up sleeves, the childhood he’d tucked away at fifteen. For the private Trey, who sometimes felt like mine.
“You didn’t go with him?”
“I was at boarding school.”
Until his parents died, and he came to live with the grandfather he’d never known. No wonder our family had seemed like a haven.
A terrible tenderness welled in me for the boy he’d been then, the boy I remembered, moody and charming. For the man he had become, lonely and loyal and kind. The jitters I’d felt on the porch were back, like I was on the threshold of something more than here and now. Something solid, sustainable, and lasting.
Apparently I had expectations after all.
“I talked to Aunt Phee. About my business loan.”
His quick, dark eyes focused on my face. “How did that go?”
“It was... Actually, it went great.” I told him, the sentences spilling out. With the financing from the loan, I could fill my current orders, expand my operation, hire more help. Spend more time developing new products and custom designs. I could move to Bunyan or stay in New York.
He listened, a slight flex between his brows. “What are you going to do?” he asked when I was done.
I was relieved. And disappointed. I wasn’t looking for declarations or promises. I’d been home barely three weeks. We’d been together—an acknowledged couple, having sex—for seven days.
And you’ve been in love with him your entire life, a voice whispered in my head. So, yeah, okay, it would be nice if he expressed a desire for me to stay.
“I don’t know.” I took refuge in Phee’s words. “It’s a lot to think about.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “You could make a real difference in this town. If you moved your business here.”
I exhaled. So he wasn’t opposed to the idea of me staying. “Or I could fail miserably.”
A glimmer of a smile. “Have a little faith.”
“In Bunyan?”
“In yourself.”
How could I think logically when he said things like that? “It was almost easier when I didn’t have a choice,” I confessed.
“You’re lost in New York,” he said. “Here you could be somebody.”
“One of the March sisters.”
“One of the smart, successful March sisters.”
“New York is the fashion capital of the world. If I can make it there, I can make it anywhere.”
“That’s what Jo used to say.”
“I am not Jo,” I said through my teeth.
“No,” he said quietly. “No, you’re not.” I don’t know what my face did, but his changed swiftly. “Christ. I didn’t mean it like that.”
