Broken Rules: A Stand Alone Romance Page 13

  “You’ve never shown me this,” Savannah said, handing the box to Nonna.

  “Some places are too painful to visit, so we’ll have to make this a quick trip. This is from Thomas. If ever I had a soulmate, it was him. We adored each other, although his parents never supported our match. He was from old money out of Stockbridge; whereas, I was just the daughter of an immigrant bus driver.

  “When he was called away to war, he promised to write to me, but he never did. I thought he had met someone or had realized his parents were right. I never heard from him. Then a year after the war ended, I was reading a paper about a young man who had hung himself. It was him. Without thinking, I raced across town to his house and confronted his mother. She was sitting on her living room floor, heartbroken and gripping a stack of letters.” Nonna closed her eyes against the memory and took a deep breath before she continued. “Come to find out he had written to me and often, but he had sent my letters along with his family’s assuming they would get to me. But of course, I never received them. And when he came home, and discovered I was married, he was too heartbroken to go on.”

  Savannah gasped. “Oh Nonna!”

  Tears shone in her faded blue eyes. “Love is so powerful. There is no greater force. But it is also infinite and that is what Thomas couldn’t see. There was more love out there waiting for him. And there is love out there waiting for you. Don’t give up on love like Thomas and I did.” She pointed a gnarled finger at Savannah. “Unless he isn’t worth it. You’re not broken up over an idiota like some of the men you’ve dated?

  “Nonna!”

  “I’m too old to mince words.”

  “Trust me, you’d like him.” Savannah wiped the tears from her eyes. “Did you and Nonno love each other?”

  The old woman’s eyes crinkled at the edges when she smiled. “With all my heart...when he wasn’t driving me crazy.”

  Savannah stood up and wiped her cheeks. “You’re right, Nonna. I won’t give up.”

  Her grandmother smiled. “That’s my gal.”

  Savannah tucked the blankets up around Nonna’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight, Nonna.”

  “Goodnight, Savannah.”

  “You’re my woman.”

  “You’re my gal.”

  Savannah stretched, feeling the warm morning sun on her face. She sat up, and breathed deeply. The screened walls invited the fresh smell from her grandmother’s perennial garden that bloomed brightly, even amid a wild tangle of weeds.

  Straightaway, her mind filled with concern for Damien. She swung her legs off the daybed and stood. Tiptoeing past Nonna, she headed into the kitchen. Amanda should be there within an hour. She put the coffee on. Nonna was not a morning person. A trait Savannah had inherited. They would both prefer to stay up late and watch movies and sleep the morning away. But that morning Savannah couldn’t delay. Damien might be waiting for her at her house. She remembered her nonna’s words...Never give up on love.

  “Nonna,” she called, leaving the kitchen and crossing the living room to her grandmother’s bedside. “It’s time to wake u—” Savannah drew a sharp breath.

  Nonna’s cheek was ice cold.

  “Nonna!” Savannah pulled the blanket down and pressed her hand to her grandmother’s still chest. “No,” she cried and dropped to her knees. “Please, Nonna. Please don’t.”

  She didn’t know how long she sat there, holding her nonna’s cold hand and praying for her to breathe, to live, but eventually, Amanda came in.

  Savannah looked up and met the nurse’s gaze. Her face crumpled. “She’s gone.”

  Amanda dropped to her knees and pulled her close. “Oh, Savannah, I’m so sorry.”

  Her heart ached. “She died in the night. I was just out there, sleeping. If I had known, I would have lain with her. I would have held her.” A sob burst from her throat. “She wouldn’t have died alone.”

  Amanda held her close. “She wasn’t alone. She had her gal close by.”

  “But I didn’t get to say goodbye,” she cried.

  Amanda pressed a kiss to her forehead and rocked her gently. “This isn’t goodbye. She’s a part of you. You’ll never lose the sound of her voice or the smell of her soft perfume.”

  Savannah nodded through her tears. She knew Amanda spoke the truth, but, at that moment, it did nothing to soothe her heartache. Pulling gently free from Amanda’s embrace, she sat again beside her nonna and held her hand.

  “I’ll call the hospital,” Amanda said before she left the room.

  Savannah couldn’t speak. She forced her head to nod while she continued to look at her grandmother’s beautiful, peaceful face. She leaned close and whispered. “I love you, Nonna. You’re my woman.”

  In her heart, she heard her nonna say...you’re my gal.

  Chapter Nineteen

  One month later

  Savannah took a deep breath as she stood outside the back entrance of The Cove.

  She knew she wasn’t ready to go back to work, but her grief wouldn’t pay her mortgage. With a deep breath, she pushed open the door.

  “Savvy,” Brandi cried out, rushing toward her and throwing her arms around her. “You can’t imagine how much I’ve missed you.” Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small wrapped gift. “I hope this is the right thing to give you.”

  Savannah smiled, feeling hollow inside. She pulled away the flowered paper, revealing a small frame with a picture of her and Nonna.

  “It was taken three years ago at my college graduation party. Nonna got tipsy off the mimosas and told us her words to live by. Remember?”

  Savannah smiled, and for once in a long time, the act was real. “I do remember. She told us to stay busy living because one day we wouldn’t be so busy.” She smiled at her friend. “Thanks, Brandi.”

  Brandi hooked arms with her as they headed toward the bar. “Have you heard from Damien?”

  Once again, Savannah’s heart sank. She shook her head, incapable of speaking her answer.

  “Damn it. Sorry! I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

  Savannah smiled weakly. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

  “My girl’s back!”

  Savannah turned toward the bar where Roger stood waving her over. “Get over here where you belong.”

  When she circled around to where Roger stood, he opened his arms. Surrendering to his warmth, she fell against his solid strength. He wrapped his arms around her. She closed her eyes and expelled a long breath, resting her cheek against his chest.

  “You’re gonna be all right, Savannah.”

  She nodded. “If I can just stay right here forever, I will be.”

  “That will put a damper on both our love lives.” He pulled away a little and crooked his thumb beneath her chin. His gaze shone with affectionate warmth. “I mean it. You’re gonna be fine. You’re Savannah freaking Honey.” He flashed his gorgeous smile at her. Then he crossed to the register and grabbed the TV remote from the tip jar.

  “I know what will cheer you up,” he began, “today is the final leg of the Hempel Cup Series.”

  Brandi came behind the bar and folded Savannah in a warm hug. “We’ve been playing it in your honor, despite demands to put the Red Sox on.”

  Savannah smiled. “I love you guys.”

  “Group hug,” Roger said, pulling them close.

  “Don’t leave me out of the love,” Wally blurted, appearing at the bar.

  “Wait,” Roger said, thrusting out his hand, stopping Wally in his tracks. “What are you wearing?”

  “Just my whites,” Wally said defensively.

  “Those aren’t whites anymore.”

  Savannah took in the colorful smears blotting Wally’s kitchen uniform. He lifted his shoulder. “Today is barbecue sauce day.”

  “You can keep the sauce to yourself.” Roger said before blowing Wally a kiss. “But I still love you.”

  Wally pounded his chest with his fist, then pointed to Roger. “Right
back atcha, man.” Then he turned to Savannah. “Welcome back, doll face.”

  “Thanks, Wally.”

  “We’re open,” Heather called from the hostess desk. Then her eyes brightened when she saw Savannah. “Yay! Welcome back!”

  “Thanks,” Savannah said. She took a deep breath.

  An instant later, Esme appeared at the bar. Her feminine pink lips contrasted beautifully with her shaved head. “I heard you were here!”

  “Hi darlin’,” Savannah said, smiling. “You’re hair has grown in a little,” she observed.

  Esme’s face beamed. “My sister’s hair has, too.” Tears flooded her eyes. “She’s in remission, Savvy!”

  A knot formed in Savannah’s throat. “Oh, Esme,” she said, her voice breaking. She pulled her friend into a fierce embrace. “That’s by far the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”

  “Hey, Esme!”

  Pulling apart, both Esme and Savannah turned to see Joe standing at the bar. He wore a soft expression on his face. “I’m really happy to hear about your sister. I really am.” The warmth fled his eyes. “But you’re killing me. Stop crying and making everyone else cry, and get back to work.”

  “You have no soul,” Savannah shot at him.

  Joe grinned. “You’re right. I have a business instead. Back to work...everyone!” He paused at the entrance to the dining room. “Welcome back.”

  She smiled and took a deep breath. She was glad she had decided to return to work. Surrounded by friends who loved her, she could lose herself to the rush of The Cove and shut out her grief.

  A short while later, the bar was slammed, and her brain was chock full of food and drink orders. The energy of the rush pulsed through the entire restaurant. That was all there was—customers, sweat, and tips.

  But it didn’t last.

  The lunch rush slowed down, and all the pain came flooding back.

  Nonna, Damien, and her desperate, shattered heart.

  Savannah looked around at the laughing faces, and her ears started to ring. She tried to lick her lips, but her mouth was dry.

  “Everyone, quiet down!” she heard Roger yell. She turned to look at him. His gaze was on her.

  “Savannah, the race is almost over.”

  She glanced up at the TV. Sails stretched taunt in the wind. Keels sliced through the surface of vibrant blue water. This was her favorite race. She usually took the day off and watched it with a margarita.

  “Take a seat,” Roger said, coming to stand beside her. “I’ll man the bar.”

  “I’m good,” she said, turning away from the TV. She couldn’t feign interest or pleasure, even for her friends.

  “Can I get you another round?” she asked a couple of girls who looked like they were up from Connecticut with their nautical themed Ralph Lauren dresses.

  “I’ll take another blueberry ale,” answered the one with tiny anchors on her dress.

  Savannah forced her mouth into a smile. “You got it.”

  Despair pressed on her heart. Her hand moved as if of its own accord as she reach for the frosted pint glass in the cooler.

  “Working Girl is in the lead,” she heard one of the commentators say.

  The glass slipped from her hand. She whirled around, her gaze now transfixed on the race. She listened to the commentators.

  “A great team. They’ve done well from the start.”

  “What an upset if they take the title from the reigning champs. The Bluefin has dominated this race for the past four years.”

  “Working Girl is gaining speed...”

  “Are you okay?” Roger asked, appearing at her side.

  She brushed past him, moving to stand directly in front of the TV. Her heart hammered in her chest, drowning out the commentators. She turned to the bar. “Everyone shut up!”

  “She takes this race very seriously,” she heard Roger apologetically explain to their patrons.

  She held her breath, watching, waiting.

  “The owner of Working Girl is a newcomer to the scene.”

  Her heart swelled. A tremor of wonderment shot up her spine. She turned to the register and seized one of the order pads and scribbled out words she longed to shout from the rooftop. Instead, she folded the paper, turned, and threw her arms around Roger’s neck. Then she rushed to the end of the bar to where Brandi waited for her drinks.

  “There’s my girl,” Brandi said when Savannah smiled at her. “You look like you’re feeling better.”

  Savannah reached over the bar and pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m going to be fine, and so are you.” She pulled away. “I promise.” Then, she kissed Brandi’s cheek before she turned and grabbed her bag from the cabinet beneath the register.

  “I love you all,” she yelled.

  Her eyes flooded with tears. She placed the folded note on the bar. Then she spun on her heel and raced from The Cove.

  Chapter Twenty

  Savannah pressed her face against the tiny window as her plane descended toward the bright strip of Florida coastline. Her heart raced at a relentless pace caused by both excitement and fear.

  What was she doing!

  She had walked out on her job, her life, her friends—on the mere hunch that her MIA boyfriend had bought a sail boat, hired a crew, and entered the Hempel cup race all to alert her to his secret whereabouts.

  Was she crazy? Could it just be an amazing coincidence?

  But the boat was called Working Girl...it had to be him.

  After the plane landed, she grabbed her hastily packed carryon from the overhead baggage storage and followed the line of passengers out the gate. The arrival area was lined with drivers holding signs for the strangers they were picking up. She read the names Phillip Kelley, Brett Williams, Anthony Glidan, Enrique Perez. She continued to scan the crowd, wishing to glimpse Savannah Honey scribbled on a piece of white paper, despite knowing it was impossible. Even if Damien had entered Working Girl in the race to send her a signal, he couldn’t have known what flight she would be on.

  And then she stopped abruptly, causing a tall man behind her to nearly bowl her over. “Sorry,” she said, looking up. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he gave her an impatient smile before moving around her and hastening on his way. She took a deep breath and looked again at what had drawn her gaze.

  A driver with a black suit, a caramel complexion, and a brilliant white smile was holding a sign for Catherine Earnshaw.

  Her heart started to race harder.

  Either someone’s mother was a bigger fan of Wuthering Heights than even Savannah or...

  She took a deep breath and barreled toward the man before she lost her nerve. “I’m Catherine Earnshaw.”

  The man’s smile widened. “Excellent to meet you, Catherine. My name is Max. Shall we go?” he said, reaching for her carryon. “Do we need to stop at the luggage carousal?”

  She shook her head, handing off her bag. “That’s all I brought. Can I ask you something, Max?”

  “Of course.”

  “Who hired you?”

  “An agency, Miss.”

  She chewed her lip for a moment. “Have you been waiting long?”

  “Not at all, Miss. Your flight was on-time.”

  “Then you knew what flight I was on?”

  He gave her a curious look. “Yes, Miss.”

  She cleared her throat. “Of course. I was just making sure I’m in the right place.”

  “If you’re Catherine Earnshaw, then I’m your Max.”

  A quick, nervous laugh fled her throat. “I’ve never had a Max of my very own.”

  Smiling, he said, “Follow me.” Then he turned on his heel and started forward.

  Her feet moved one in front of the other while her heart pounded in her ears, muffling the din of the airport.

  She still couldn’t believe what she was doing.

  What if none of this was real? What if it was just a giant delusion brought on by grief and heartache? What if the sail boat wasn’t a s
ignal from Damien, and instead the owner simply appreciated 80s movies? And what if Catherine Earnshaw wasn’t Damien’s code for Savannah Honey, but a humorous joke from one bibliophile to another? That would mean her Max really belonged to someone else, who was now stranded at the airport.

  Her mind raced as the airport streaked past in a blur. Keeping her eyes trained on Max’s broad back, she fought the urge to turn around and buy a ticket for the next flight to Boston.

  After all, Nonna had told her never to give up on love.

  And so, she would stay her course, sailing on the waters of chance for even the hope of finding Damien at the finish line.

  Palm trees had replaced the pine trees she was accustomed to seeing outside the car window as Max steered the black Lincoln town car onto a coastal road. She rolled the window down when tall masts and billowing sails came into view.

  Her chest tightened. She held her breath.

  And then she saw it—Working Girl. It had to be Damien!

  The car stopped. Without thinking and still without breathing, she flung the car door open, jumped out, and raced toward the boat. Her feet thundered up the metal gangplank and onto the deck. Her gaze darted everywhere, but he wasn’t there. Tears stung her eyes. Desperation gripped her heart. “Damien,” she called out, spinning in a circle. “Damien!”

  A hand flattened over her mouth from behind. She thrashed against the arms holding her.

  “Savannah, it’s me.”

  She froze. His hand fell away. She turned and met his amber gaze.

  “Damien,” she cried.

  His face broke into a smile, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “We’re alone for now, but stop yelling my name. The crew thinks my name is Henry.”

  She threw her arms around his neck. “I don’t care what your name is. I only care that you’re here.” Her voice broke. “That you’re alive.”