He pressed his lips together. He was starting to figure out exactly what went wrong, and it tweaked his conscience. “I guess after everything that went down with Amanda, I’m having trouble trusting again. Sadie and I broke up because... well, she neglected to tell me something. At the time it seemed like a deal breaker. But now I’m wondering if my trust issues got in the way. I think I might’ve responded poorly.”
“Hmm...”
“How do you know if you can trust someone?”
“Well, only time can tell you that. Trust is earned when our actions line up with our words. That doesn’t mean mistakes aren’t made sometimes though.”
He placed the second anchor and screwed it in. Sadie had proven herself to be a person of her word. She’d followed through numerous times in their brief relationship. He’d never seen any reason to distrust her—except in that one instance.
His mom cleared her throat. “You know what impressed me most about Sadie? And I didn’t even discover it until after you’d broken up.”
“What’s that?”
She gazed at her new ring, letting the light catch and reflect on the walls around them. “When she found an expensive diamond ring inside a book, she didn’t take it to a pawn shop and cash out. She went to a great deal of trouble to track down the owner—someone she’d thought was a stranger.”
It was true. He’d had the same thought a time or two. He picked up the mirror and hung it on the wall, then stepped back.
In the mirror his mom gave him a little smile. “That doesn’t strike me as something an untrustworthy person would do.”
A while later Sam thought about Mom’s words on the short drive home. When he got there he heated up leftover pizza and sat down to watch the rest of the Braves game. It wasn’t until the first commercial that he checked his phone. No new texts but several emails had come in. Some junk mail and...
An email from Sadie with an attached document.
Forty-One
If the romantic relationship in your story does not end happily, then it’s not a romance novel.
—Romance Writing 101
Sadie’s insides were as tangled as a knotted skein of yarn. She clenched the straps of her purse as she navigated the short terminal of the Tucker Island Airport. Her first flight had left LaGuardia at seven this morning, she’d had a layover at Charleston, and now it was after two o’clock. It had been a long day of waiting and wondering.
Because really, she had no assurance that Sam would be happy to see her. For the millionth time since she’d sent him her manuscript last night, she checked her phone for a text or email.
Nothing.
Her stomach sank like a cement block. Well, what had she expected? It would probably take him days to read the story—if he chose to read it at all. And even then, just because she’d had a change of heart didn’t mean he would.
Strangely, the thought of losing him for good was now worse than the fear that they could become her parents.
She whispered a prayer for guidance as she turned toward baggage claim and transportation with the small group that had just deplaned. The others seemed excited to have arrived on the island. A young family, clearly here on vacation and in high spirits. An older couple, likely returning home. As for herself, she was a nervous wreck. She’d hardly eaten, unable to stand the thought of food. The tension grew worse as she neared the exit.
She hitched her duffel bag higher on her shoulder. She’d left Rio in Caroline’s capable hands, and her return flight was scheduled for tomorrow since she had to be at school Monday. She’d flinched at the cost of the last-minute ticket. But the price of staying home, of doing nothing, seemed so much higher. This was something she had to do in person—no matter the outcome. Her breath felt trapped in her lungs at the thought of baring her soul.
She’d tossed and turned all night in anticipation of seeing him again. Funny, now that the manuscript was finished, her biggest concern wasn’t fear of being rejected by Erin and the publishing team.
It was fear of being rejected by Sam.
Tears swam in her eyes. She shook off the negative thought and pushed through the exit door, following a group of travelers. The August heat smacked her in the face. She could feel her careful curls wilting by the second—not to mention her makeup.
She paused, closed her eyes, and drew in a deep breath of air, letting the salt-scented fragrance soothe her. The warm breeze also carried a hint of some sweet-smelling flower that reminded her of the island. The calming effect on her senses slowed her raging pulse.
Okay. One thing at a time. She opened her eyes. She’d have to Uber to Sam’s apartment. At LaGuardia there was a line of cabs, but this was hardly LaGuardia.
The sight of a taxi pulling around the drive made her smile. Wonderful. She wouldn’t have to wait after all. As it pulled to a stop she approached the vehicle.
When she opened the back door, it fell open so quickly she stumbled backward over the curb. She got her footing and gaped at the person rising from the cab.
“Sam.”
