Too bad. She had no desire to be psychoanalyzed at eight o’clock in the morning on her vacation. But since she loved Brenda, she would withstand the torture. “I don’t know, Bren. I’m not even sure what’s going to happen now that we’re back home.”

  “Did he kiss you good-bye last night?”

  Her face heated at the memory. “He did.”

  “Then it’s official. You’re a couple. Call him and join him for lunch or something.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, just do it. What have you got to lose?”

  Her dignity! She bit her lip. It wasn’t that, she was just afraid of being rejected. She’d seen the heartache her mother went through when her father had enough of her and moved on to the next plaything of the year. Since then, he’d switched wives as often as the school year.

  “Maybe I’ll just wait for him to call.”

  “No. Put your big girl panties on and call him,” Brenda paused. “Look, Carly. I know you’re scared. Your parents weren’t a great example, but don’t let their choices ruin your future.”

  The words were so close to Damien’s. Two people saying something similar was more than a coincidence, wasn’t it? “Thanks, Bren.”

  “If you guys get married, I want your first born to be named after me or Adam.”

  Carly burst out laughing. “Whatever.”

  “Hey, I gotta go. My times up.”

  “Love you, Bren.”

  “Love you, too, Carly girl.”

  Carly stared at her cell phone. Should she give Damien a call? It was the twenty-first century after all. Women were no longer waiting for the men to make the first move. She bit her lip and dialed his number before she could change her mind.

  His voicemail picked up.

  She bit her lip. “Hey, it’s Carly. I was wondering if you wanted to get some lunch. Call me back if you can get together. Bye.”

  She let out a groan, pounding her face with her pillow. Voicemails were the worse.

  DAMIEN PASSED THE COFFEE shop where he first met Carly. He wished he could stop in and grab a cup or at least see her smiling face. Since he got back from Montana, his boss had swamped him with work. He hadn’t been able to come up for air yet, which was why he was heading in on a Saturday.

  He ran a hand down his face. How he managed to operate on a few hours of sleep was beyond him. Exhaustion was now his middle name and there seemed to be no end in sight. He couldn’t take this pace. It was like Max was upset he took a vacation. Yet, what was a guy supposed to do when his best friend needed help?

  His Bluetooth chimed alerting him to an incoming phone call. Adam’s name flashed across the dashboard screen.

  “Hey, man, what’s up?”

  “Wanted to call and say thank you for all you and Carly did.”

  Damien’s insides dipped at the sound of her name. “Not a problem.”

  “How’ve you been?” Adam’s voice came out cautiously.

  His brows wrinkled. “I’m exhausted. Max has been ruling with an iron fist these last few days. I’m tempted to quit.”

  “Wow. Why don’t you?”

  “I just can’t quit because I’m too busy. That sounds like an oxymoron.”

  “When’s the last time you’ve talked to Carly?”

  “What do you mean?” His voice came out quick and defensive. Did Adam know something?

  “A little birdy may have told me you two are dating now.”

  He wished. There’d been no time to even text her. “I haven’t talked to her since I dropped her home Thursday.”

  Adam’s whistle pierced the air. “That’s not good, man. If you had a chance, I’m pretty sure you’ve lost it now.”

  “You think?” He gripped the wheel. “She knew I worked a lot.”

  “Yeah, but some things have to change when you enter a relationship.”

  His mind scrolled back to his ex. Her chief complaint had been his work hours. He gulped. Would Carly think his absence meant he didn’t want to date her? “I’m screwed,” he whispered.

  “Grovel and do it quickly.”

  “I gotta go.”

  “Good luck.”

  Damien took in his surroundings. He had another five minutes before he’d be at work. Time enough to call Carly and pray she didn’t hate him by now.

  “Hello?”

  The sound of her voice curled through him. “Hey, it’s Damien.”

  “Oh.” Ice coated her words, hardening her voice.

  He winced. “Sorry I haven’t called in a while.”

  “You mean since we’ve been home? I hadn’t noticed.”

  Oh, yeah. She’s angry. “My boss had a ton of work waiting for me. I’m just not taking a breather on my way in.”

  “Huh, and you couldn’t pick up a phone and say that? Or text? Or respond to voicemails?”

  “Voicemails?” He would never ignore a message from her, regardless of how busy he’d been. He’d assumed she relaxed the rest of her Spring Break and had resumed classes this past week.

  “Please, I’m not ignorant.”

  No, but he was. He had no missed calls from her nor any waiting voicemails. “Carly, please don’t be mad. I’ve had no missed calls. I really want to finish this conversation, but I just pulled up to the office. I promise you I’ve been busy and that I will call you later.”

  “So busy you couldn’t call, yet you managed to squeeze in a phone call now. Tell me, Damien. Is work always going to be an excuse for why you’re never around? Because I was fine dating myself until you came along.”

  “Carly.” He had nothing. No rebuttal. No words because she was right.

  “Call me when you’ve got it together.”

  Silence greeted his ears. She’d hung up.

  He sighed. Was he really using work as an excuse not to get close? To have to trust that she’d want to be with him and no one else? It was like he’d taken three steps backwards since returning home. Not only did he ruin his chances with Carly, but probably ticked off God. Hadn’t he made a pact to be more attentive and intentional with his time?

  I’m sorry, Lord. I’ll do better.

  But how?

  He stared at his phone and pressed the restart button. She’d mentioned voicemails. What was she talking about? He glanced at the car clock. He had a few more minutes before he needed to have his butt in his office chair. Moments later, his phone refreshed, and ten voicemails awaited.

  “Ahh.” Why, oh why did cell phones do this? It was time for an upgrade.

  He pressed the one from Carly’s number. The sound of her sweet voice flooded through his Bluetooth. She’d wanted to do lunch.

  “I blew it.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Carly walked up the hill toward her home. Using public transportation and her own two feet helped her stay in shape. Of course there was the added benefit of saving money. That and it was the only time she exercised. There was nothing appealing about sweat.

  She turned the corner and stopped short. Damien sat on the stairs leading to her front door. Her heart dipped as she took in his appearance. Shadows darkened his eyes and weariness etched into his brow.

  He looked exhausted.

  Maybe his boss really did dump a bunch of work on him. Had she been too hasty? She straightened her spine, tilting her chin up. No, he still could have told her instead of ignoring the voicemails. Those many, many voicemails that had an air of desperation to them. She hadn’t wanted to face the so obvious rejection.

  She strode forward intent on stilling herself against any plea or apology. He’d lost his chance.

  “Carly.” Damien jumped up, sliding his hands into his suit pocket. “How are you?”

  “Fine.” She wanted to applaud herself at the cool tone. She would not give in.

  “Could I come in? Talk to you?”

  She folded her arms. “You can say what you want out here.”

  “All right,” he said on a sigh. “I’m sorry. I should have taken the time to let you know how work was going. We had a big deal we were trying to close. I immediately slipped into focus mode and blocked everything out.” He stepped forward. “I blocked you out.” He trailed a finger down her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  The urge to lean into him almost overpowered her good senses. Almost. She took a step back, breaking the physical contact. How dare her heart forget the hurt that laced through her at every unanswered phone call. You do not miss his touch. You don’t even miss him.

  She bolstered in her resolve. “Don’t worry.” She lifted a shoulder in a no-worries shrug. “I won’t get in your way any longer.” She attempted to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm, stilling her movements.

  “Carly, wait. Please. I want another chance.”

  She stared at his hand and he let go. He shuffled back a step and watched her. Right, this was when she said “all was forgiven.” Not. “And why do you want another chance? So you can ignore me? You can’t treat me like some toy, take me out when you feel like it and put me back on the shelf when you have better things to do. I’m a human being.” She pointed at her chest, anger and hurt clogging her throat while tears clouded her vision.

  “I told you I’m not the marrying kind, but you made me...” she stopped, afraid she said too much.

  Damien stepped forward, wrapping his hand around hers. “You’re lovable. Don’t let my behavior say otherwise.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m truly sorry. It won’t happen again. I didn’t even know I had voicemails until you brought it up. Please give me another chance.”

  She wavered. Was it possible he didn’t get her voicemails? Should she have texted him instead? She shook her head. She couldn’t...wouldn’t give in. “No. You’re not who I thought you were.”

  She broke away and ran up the stairs, closing the door to him and to what could have been.

  DAMIEN STARED AT THE wall in his living room. It was over. His breakup with Carly had to be the fastest in history. Why had he thought God was giving him another shot at love? Maybe even marriage? The spell of the proxy wedding had him believing in new beginnings, but it had all been a farce.

  The hurt and anger on Carly’s face wouldn’t leave him. The tears that had threatened an appearance, but never spilled over had made his gut ache with regret. Why hadn’t he called her and said he was busy?

  If only he could go back in time.

  When they’d returned to California, he’d wanted to keep their relationship going. Yet in the light of day, it seemed impossible. She was a teacher, and he was a stockbroker. She colored anywhere she could, and he stayed in the lines. Sure opposites attracted and all, but they didn’t keep a marriage going.

  He knew that all too well. And maybe, just maybe, that had been the fear in the back of his mind. That he would fall so far in love with Carly that marriage would be the inevitable next step—with a divorce quickly following.

  So, he’d thrown himself into work. The workload Max had for him was merely an excuse. Only now, now that Carly had effectively shut him from her life, regret filled his entire being. A relationship no longer seemed like a noose but a lifeline. Why did he let fear dictate his life? Capitulating to what-ifs had him repeatedly making mistakes. But how to fix it? Maybe he just needed to focus on what he could fix.

  He stared at the dark furniture and black wallpaper. He’d been living in a cloud of darkness for too long. It was time to bring light back into his world. He grabbed his laptop and found the nearest furniture store. A couple of coats of paint and brighter furniture should help him forget he couldn’t have the one thing he wanted most: Carly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Carly walked around Charlotte’s station, examining her sculpture. Trash art was her favorite medium to teach. Some of the students thrived in the subject, others like Charlotte, seemed to hate Carly’s very existence for suggesting it.

  “You’re doing great, Charlotte.” The purse made of soda cans was quite attractive.

  “It looks nothing like it’s supposed to.” Charlotte glared at her and handed her a sketch of a dog.

  Oh.

  Carly schooled her features so she wouldn’t dash Charlotte’s hopes. “It’s okay. Not every artist can work in every medium. Have fun and when we get to charcoals, know you’ll kick butt.” She offered a grin, hoping to soothe Charlotte’s frazzled nerves.

  “Ms. James. I refuse to believe that. I want to be good at it all.”

  Carly sighed. “Have you heard the phrase, ‘jack of all trades, master of none?”

  “No, but I think I get what you mean.”

  “Don’t burn yourself out or worse, make art into a chore. It should be fun. If you enjoy it, let that be all that matters.”

  “Thanks, Ms. James.”

  She walked away, but the echo of her own words reverberated in her mind. Sculpting with trash art made her happy. It was a way for her to see that anything could become good. Her take on Romans 8:28, “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose.”

  Yet, she had let fear and public opinion sway her from continuing to create art. She took her eyes off God and looked at life from other’s perspectives. What have I done? Damien’s shattered expression filled her mind.

  He wanted another chance and she said no. Truth was, she was too scared to enter into a relationship. Brenda had called her on it, but she didn’t listen. Now, regret filled her heart. Could she take a chance? Ask for his forgiveness?

  Indecision swirled inside. She’d been so intent on keeping herself from repeating her parents’ mistakes that she ended up making the wrong ones anyway. Fear was ruining her life.

  God, I don’t want to be afraid to live anymore. I say that I let You handle everything, but I’ve been walking around with a closed fist. Afraid to let go and trust that You will lead me. Please help me. And please give me another chance with Damien.

  DAMIEN LOOKED AROUND his living room. The cream-colored walls went a long way in brightening up the place. The light tan living room furniture was masculine but not dark. Overall, he was pleased with the changes. He’d even received a few quotes on repainting the outside of his home. He hadn’t completely eradicated the black, but it had been time to tone it down.

  A knock sounded.

  He frowned. No one ever visited him. Maybe it was Max. His boss hadn’t been too pleased when he’d given his two-weeks’ notice. God had sent him a job that gave him time to breathe and leave work at work.

  The doorbell sounded. Damien shook himself from his reverie and headed to the door. He peeked through the peephole and froze. Carly.

  She stood there, looking glorious in a floral maxi, hair swaying with the breeze. He yanked the door open.

  “Hi,” she said shyly.

  “Hey.” He stood there, dumfounded. She was here. What did it mean?

  “Can I come in?”

  “Of course.” Get a hold of yourself.

  She blinked as she took in his living room, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

  “I...uh...bought some new furniture recently.”

  “Oh. I can’t believe your house is really painted black.” She pointed to the front door. “It’s certainly easy to pick out in the row.”

  He chuckled, but his nerves were taut. “Why are you here?”

  She closed her eyes and then met his gaze. “To apologize. You asked for another chance and I just shot you down. I’m sorry.”

  “Forgiven.” The husky tone of his voice surprised him. He wanted to hope that her apology meant she was here to give them another chance, but surprisingly fear rendered him mute.

  “I started sculpting again.”

  “That’s great.” He smiled. “You’ve got talent. I can’t wait to see what you create.”

  Her cheeks bloomed with color. “Thanks for encouraging me.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Really?” Her eyes searched his.

  He prayed the sincerity in his voice rang loud and clear. “Really.” He took a step closer to her. “Is that all you came to say?”

  She shook her head no, and he took another step closer.

  “I want another chance.”

  He kissed her. He couldn’t help himself. Never had he been so relieved to hear four little words. She wrapped her hands around his neck, cradling his head. He pulled her closer, putting every bit of feeling he could into the kiss. Finally, he broke away, breathless but thankful. “I’m so glad you came.”

  “Me, too. I’m done making bad choices.”

  “Amen, Carly James.”

  Epilogue

  A year later

  Carly breathed in the fresh Montana air. She stood on the edge of the beach at West Shore State Park. The waters of Flathead Lake glimmered under the sunlight and the mountains rose behind it, providing a magnificent backdrop. God was definitely in this place.

  She leaned back into Damien’s arms, loving the feel of them. He held her securely, nuzzling his face in her neck.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I love you, too.”

  Her grin couldn’t be contained. Love for this man overflowed and abounded. The past year had been wonderful. Every chance they had was spent together. Damien learned to take more time to relax and enjoy life. He even convinced her to devote more time to her artwork. She had a show at a local gallery coming soon.

  “Carly?”

  “Hmmm.”

  Damien let her go and turned her around. “You know you got all the talent, right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was going to give you a gift made of trash.”

  Laughter welled up inside her.

  His lip curled in disgust.

  “Did you actually attempt it?” At his nod, she continued. “Was it really that bad?”

  “Worse.”

  She bit her lip to hold in a chuckle. “You’re not a child. You don’t have to make me a homemade gift.”

  “Good.” He walked away to the cooler and came back with a bouquet of flowers.

 

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