Silver Linings. Mary Brady

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      “The Murphys have offered their living room to us. They’ve also invited you to dine with us,” he said, his breath coming out in puffs of steam.

      All she could do was stare at him, panic-stricken. She could not let this thing grow bigger. She needed to get this, whatever it was between Hunter and her, settled. He would work in the Morrison and Morrison office and she would work alongside him if she got the chance.

      One thing she knew for sure, she was not going in there to talk about her personal life. She loved Shamus, but she didn’t want to bare her secrets to him.

      “I thanked him and Connie and assured them we’d be fine. I did tell them I’d ask you before I refused for both of us.”

      “Thank you.” She put both hands on the steering wheel and squeezed hard. “I mean, I was trying to figure out how to diplomatically refuse that offer.”

      Hunter straightened and sprinted in his familiar long-legged stride back to the house and up the steps. Connie met him at the door and waved to Delainey. Connie looked her usual lustrous self. She might not be the reason Shamus quit, but there was probably little to be gleaned from a glimpse so far away.

      Shamus, what’s wrong? she wondered as Hunter strode back to her car and climbed in the passenger side.

      “The diner it is,” he said as he pulled the door closed.

      “We don’t have to go there, either. I brought food. I thought we could go someplace private and talk in the car.”

      He looked over his shoulder to the blankets in the backseat where Brianna’s booster would have been if she hadn’t left it with Christina.

      “Little Cove Park?” Little Cove Park was a small inlet where the waves often washed in quietly. There wasn’t a beach, only rocky shoreline and shallow caves, dangerous when the tide was in. A lighthouse stood on the right side of the cove on a point of land reaching out into the ocean.

      Many a picnic had been had at the small park by people of all kinds, especially high schoolers, sometimes with groups as big as twenty or thirty. Kids would pair off and disappear out into the darkness around them, but never Hunter and her. They used to joke that they were the fire tenders and the whole group would fall apart without their help.

      There would be no one at the cove today.

      Ten minutes later she pulled into the deserted parking area, where the snow of the weekend lay plowed in small mounds. In a moment she would be alone in a parked car with Hunter Morrison.

      She shut off the engine.

      Suddenly, she had no idea why she’d thought she could do this at all. Two days ago her life was on track. Today she felt as if she had no anchor and she definitely could not just sit there and start talking. She got out of the car and Hunter did the same.

      The rubber soles of her boots gave her barely enough traction to keep her upright as she navigated the slippery, crunchy snow. She headed for the shoreline. Hunter’s footsteps crunched across the packed snow as he followed close behind.

      She stopped a few feet short of the rocky drop-off and gazed out at the never-ending motion of the Atlantic Ocean. Hunter stopped beside her but she didn’t dare look at him.

      The setting sun behind them painted a pink cast on the swells as they rose and fell and then flipped over into white caps that crashed into the jagged shoreline. The rocks below had been cleaned of snow by the salty water but could still be slippery, so she did not venture down as she used to do in the summer when she was a teenager.

      The beam from the lighthouse shone fragmented across the water. The cold wind whipped at her, and exhilaration swept away all other emotions. The last time she was here in the winter she was still pregnant with Brianna.

      After that, it was too cold in the winter to bring the child and they always had so many better places to spend time together. They could go to the sled hill after a snow or the pottery studio and shop, where they threw and glazed ugly pots and globs that vaguely resembled dinosaurs, and the owner fired them anyway. Of course, there was also baking cookies or learning to sew with her mother.

      And when she wasn’t with her daughter, she craved to be. The hours she had to spend at work were a painful reality she knew she needed to weather.

      Time to herself seemed frivolous these days and she never seemed to have enough hours in a day to come to a place so hypnotic, so meditative, to think, to hope.

      Was that why she’d come today? To think? To hope?

      No, she’d come to reckon the path before her, to smooth out bumps, to build bridges if she could.

      Hunter put a hand on her shoulder. In the faltering light, his dark blue eyes seemed stormy, his face concerned. It was then that she realized she was shivering, her teeth were chattering and she hadn’t bothered to put her hat or gloves on before venturing out in the freezing wind. More, the sun had set and twilight would be short and the darkness harsh.

      Hunter held her arm as they made their way back to the car. Once inside, she rubbed her palms together and put her hands over her complaining ears.

      “Start the car.”

      “What?”

      He pointed to the keys still dangling from the ignition lock.

      “Oh.” She turned the keys and the engine came to life. Warm air poured from the vents. They had been out near the water for less than ten minutes. Not nearly enough time for the engine to cool or for her to figure out what she had to say.

      After a minute or two of listening to the heater fan, she worked on relaxing the hard knot in her chest. “Hunter, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

      “Did you bring a chicken wing or two?”

      She snuffled. “For the awkward silent moments? No, but my sister packed a bag for our dinner.”

      “How is Christina?”

      “She’s doing well.” How much was appropriate to share about her family, her feelings, her plans, Brianna? So she tossed the ball to him. “How was Chicago?”

      “Big, exciting at times. Very different from Bailey’s Cove.”

      “Wow, that was so not an answer.” She took a chance and looked at him. His brows furrowed as if thinking of something unpleasant. Was that how he remembered her?

      “Why aren’t you an attorney?”

      “Well, I guess I asked for that.” She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to stop the landslide that was heading rapidly directly toward her. “Can we back up for a bit?”

      He grabbed a blanket from the backseat and handed it to her. “Are you hungry, Delainey?”

      No, she was not hungry. Her stomach was churning and her head ached. The last thing she wanted was food—no, the second last. The last thing was to sit here and confide in a man she no longer knew.

      “Sure. I could eat.”

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