Chapter Two

 

 

“Ms. Philips?”

Harper turned from her view of the beach and her second margarita to the check-in clerk at the door between the inside bar and the patio.

“Yes?”

“You room is ready—no rush, I just wanted to let you know.”

The margarita had mellowed her anxiety, which was just what the doctor had ordered. Harper placed a tip on the table and asked Jeff to send the bill, what wasn’t covered by the voucher, to her room. “212,” she told him. It had become her favorite number.

He lifted his hand in acknowledgement.

“I’m ready,” she said, following the clerk back to the front desk.

The clerk’s jet-black hair bobbed as she handed over the plastic key card and retrieved Harper’s luggage from the room. “Do you remember how to get there? The elevator to your left.”

This was really happening, Harper thought. “Thank you.”

The sound of her heels clicked against the tile as she passed the eight-foot Christmas tree topped with a blue sequined seahorse in the center of the lobby. Blue and silver packages had been decoratively placed beneath the tree.

She hadn’t bothered decorating her home this year either. They would never have a family, or children, to unwrap gifts beneath a tree. Things that she and Todd would never do again became a longer list until it was easier to accept that he was gone and she walked alone.

Harper got off the elevator on the second floor and rolled her suitcase down the tiled hall. The hotel was only five stories but had amazing beach views. Her suite was on the corner and gave her a panoramic vista from two sides. Tranquil aqua blue all round.

Last year she hadn’t cared about anything but the bottle of scotch in her suitcase and an unfamiliar place to drink it in. This year she admired the bamboo and wicker beach furniture and the thick throw rugs over the cool tile, the turquoise blue bedding to her left and the white desk and kitchenette to the right.

She caught a view of her image in the mirror over the desk and winced. She’d lost ten pounds in the last year and her pale cheeks were thin. Her dark blonde hair was clipped back in a non-nonsense bun. The pink lipstick seemed too bright on the wan palette of her skin.

Had she made a mistake coming here?

Her phone rang and she knew it would have to be Felicity, her best and only friend, really—grieving and sorrow acted like barbed wire in actual relationships.

“I’ve arrived!” Harper announced.

“And is it lovely and tropical?” Felicity asked. “I’m staring at the rain from the window of my flat with a cuppa imagining you with your toes in the sand!”

“I’ve only been here an hour and just got to my room. Sand in toes to come, I promise.”

Felicity, adamantly single, had been there to help Harper navigate some of the obstacles of suddenly being on her own, after her life plans had been derailed by Todd’s cancer at 33.

She and Felicity worked at the same accounting firm and her friend had been more help than Harper would have ever dreamed she’d need. “I’ll bring you back some sand and shells.”

“And a cabana boy,” Felicity teased. Her tone turned serious. “Did you change your mind about the black dress?”

“No.”

“You’ll scare him away, looking like you’re on your way to a bloody funeral! Is there time to buy something with color? And toss the heels for some flip-flops to show off that pretty pedicure.”

“How will he recognize me, if I look different?”

Felicity snorted. “You’ll be in the buff, then?”

It’d taken Harper six months of harboring her secret before she’d finally admitted her sin to Felicity. Her friend had done her best to absolve any guilt and encouraged Harper to return.

Harper hadn’t bought her ticket until two weeks ago, having been undecided all this time.

“Felicity!” She exhaled and sank to the edge of the bed. “I shouldn’t do it. I should stay at the hotel bar and drink margaritas. Maybe read a good book on the beach.”

“You can’t back out now,” Felicity said. “Just go see.”

“What if he doesn’t come?”

“Then you find another handsome American to ring in Christmas morning with. It could be a new tradition.”

Harper rolled her eyes. “We are supposed to meet at six.”

“Turn on your location app so that I know where you are—ish.”

“I will, I will. Wish me luck, Felicity. And Happy Christmas!”

“Luck—we will talk tomorrow or the next day, just to let me know you are all right?”

“Of course.” They ended the call and Harper went into the bathroom. The oval sunken tub was bigger than her dorm room in college. She turned the faucet and decided to soak for an hour, lathering with coconut lotion from the hotel.

She applied her makeup—no pink—but a soft rose bronze. She fluffed her hair to keep it wavy, to her shoulders.

The black dress, sleeveless, was still black. Her heels, too. Last year, she’d gone barefoot most of the night, dancing on the beach.

In London, she’d need a wrap for her shoulders, but here she’d be fine with her arms bare. No hose, or slip.

Eyeing her frumpy image made her depressed. “You are no seductress, Harper Philips.” She shook her head and sat on the bed, the mattress dipping.

What if she was making a big fool of herself?

He probably wasn’t there, and all of this was for nothing.

She’d been so torn about whether or not to come here—but then realized with fleeting self-awareness that she’d told herself a lie—the truest part of her being had always known she’d come back one more time.

Just to see if what she and this man had created between them was real.

She’d dreamed of a bustling family, a large garden, a home to grow old in—only for it all to disappear. How many times would life need to kick her in the teeth before she realized that dreams were for children?

 

 

Jacob paced his living room one last time before checking his phone. Ten minutes until six. Would she be there?

Was he making a fool of himself?

He’d been looking forward to this moment since his angel left a year ago. It was a five minute walk from his apartment to the bench.

“Let’s go!” he said aloud, giving himself a pep-talk.

He left the one-bedroom apartment and hurried down the outside entrance. There was no elevator on the two-story cement block building but he didn’t mind the stairs at all. Outside, the quaint downtown square with all its bars and restaurants was lit with gold, red, and green. A gigantic two-story high tree flashed with golden strings of lights.

It had gotten dark around five, but he could see just fine. Laughter sounded from the restaurants and the groups of people enjoying Christmas Eve on the beach. He passed the stage where a band would play from seven to ten.

Wanting to be prepared, he’d made a reservation for Christmas dinner.

He hunched his shoulders against the salty breeze. Would she be here?

His heart raced as he took the last few steps around squealing children to the Romanesque pillars and open roof covering six canoe-shaped benches that faced the ocean. They’d agreed on the center bench.

Pulse erratic, he wanted to find her so badly that he groaned aloud to see that the benches were all full. And their bench? He clenched his fist.

An older couple snuggled at one end and a younger couple with two kids occupied the other.

He hadn’t thought about this when he’d considered meeting here tonight.

Of course other people might use the bench! It was a busy holiday evening and he was not the only one, dang it, downtown.

He scanned the other five benches. All filled with happy people that weren’t his angel.

Where was she?

The idea that she wouldn’t come deflated him to the core and his knees gave. He stumbled back and leaned against the pillar.

Jacob checked the time. 5:57.

Could he get the family to move? Tell the older couple to scoot over? Explain to them all that he’d had a date set for a year, and that he really needed that seat?

The older couple got up and he sighed with relief.

Until a shadow to his left also hurried toward the bench and he almost cried out for them to stop. And then he saw her from the side. Slender, pale arms in a black sheath. Sexy stiletto heels that crunched against the sand.

Loose blonde hair to her shoulders.

Jacob’s body crackled with electric hope. Joy. Longing.

It was her!

She’d come.

He crossed the ten steps from where he’d been watching just as she sat, perched, glancing around as if nervous.

Jacob stepped into her line of sight.

Her lower lip trembled and she sucked it in before releasing it.

“Hi,” she whispered.

The world around them fell away as Jacob lifted her up.

Words collided non-sensibly in his brain and so he did the only thing he could think of.

He kissed her.

Buried his hands in her soft hair, cradled her gently to him, and kissed her.

She stiffened at first, but then relaxed into his embrace. She tasted like mint and salt and the memory of their night together came back with a rush.

His angel.