Sophie Love

A lifelong fan of the romance genre, Sophie Love is thrilled to release her debut romance series: FOR NOW AND FOREVER (THE INN AT SUNSET HARBOR – BOOK 1). Sophie would love to hear from you, so please visit www.sophieloveauthor.comwww.sophieloveauthor.com to email her, to join the mailing list, to receive free ebooks, to hear the latest news, and to stay in touch!

Copyright © 2016 by Sophie Love. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright kak2s, used under license from Shutterstock.com.

BOOKS BY SOPHIE LOVE

THE INN AT SUNSET HARBOR

FOR NOW AND FOREVER (Book #1)

FOREVER AND FOR ALWAYS (Book #2)

FOREVER, WITH YOU (Book #3)

Chapter One

Emily ran her hands down the black silky material of her dress, smoothing out the creases for what must have been the hundredth time that night.

“You seem nervous,” Ben said. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

Her eyes darted down to the half-eaten chicken on her plate, then back up at Ben, who sat across from her at the beautifully laden dinner table, his face lit by candlelight. For their seven-year anniversary, he’d taken her to the most romantic restaurant in New York.

Of course she was nervous.

Especially since the small Tiffany’s box she’d found hidden in his sock drawer weeks before had not been there when she’d checked that evening. She felt certain that tonight was the night he would finally propose.

The thought made her heart hammer with anticipation.

“I’m just not that hungry,” she replied.

“Oh,” Ben said, looking slightly perturbed. “Does that mean you won’t be wanting any dessert? I’ve had my eye on the salted-butterscotch mousse.”

She most certainly didn’t want dessert, but she had a sudden fear that perhaps Ben had hidden the ring in the mousse. It would be a corny way to propose, but by now, she would take any way at all. To say Ben was afraid of commitment was an understatement. It had taken two years of dating before he’d even been okay with her leaving her toothbrush at his apartment – and four years before he finally decided she could move in.

If she so much as mentioned children, he turned as white as a sheet.

“Please, order the mousse if you want,” she said. “I’ve still got my glass of wine.”

Ben gave a small shrug, then called over the waiter, who swiftly removed his empty plate and her half-eaten chicken.

Ben stretched his hands out and took both of hers in his.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” he asked.

“Not yet,” she said, smiling slyly.

He smiled in return. “In that case, you look beautiful.”

Then he reached into his pocket.

Her heart seemed to stop beating. This was it. It was really happening. All those years of anguish, of Buddhist-monk-level patience, were about to finally pay off. She was about to prove her mother wrong, her mother who seemed to revel in telling Emily that she’d never get a man like Ben down the aisle. Not to mention her best friend, Amy, who had recently developed the tendency after one glass of wine too many to start imploring Emily not to waste any more time on Ben because thirty-five definitely wasn’t “too old to find true love.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat as Ben pulled the Tiffany’s box out of his pocket and slid it across the table toward her.

“What’s this?” she managed to say.

“Open it,” he replied with a grin.

He wasn’t bending down on one knee, Emily noted, but that was fine. She didn’t need it to be traditional. She just needed a ring. Any ring would do.

She picked up the box, opened it – then frowned.

“What … the hell…?” she stammered.

She stared at it in shock. It was a one-ounce bottle of perfume.

Ben grinned, as if thrilled with his handiwork.

“I didn’t realize they sold perfume either,” Ben replied. “I thought they just sold overpriced jewelry. Want me to spray you?”

Suddenly unable to contain her emotions, Emily broke down in tears. All her hopes came crashing down around her. She felt like an idiot for even letting herself think he might be proposing tonight.

“Why are you crying?” Ben said, frowning, suddenly aggrieved. “People are looking.”

“I thought…” Emily stammered, dabbing her eyes with the table cloth, “with the restaurant, and it being our anniversary…” She was unable to get her words out.

“Yes,” Ben said, coolly. “It’s our anniversary and I bought you a present. I’m sorry if it wasn’t good enough, but you didn’t get me one at all.”

“I thought you were going to propose!” Emily finally cried, throwing her napkin down on the table.

The hum in the room stopped as people stopped eating and turned and stared at her. She no longer cared.

Ben’s eyes widened with fear. He looked even more scared than he did when she mentioned the possibility of starting a family.

“What do you want to get married for?” he said.

Emily was hit by a moment of clarity. She looked at him as though seeing him for the first time. Ben would never change. He would never commit. Her mother, Amy, they’d both been right. She’d spent years waiting for something that was so obviously never going to happen, and this miniature bottle of perfume had been the straw to break the camel’s back.

“It’s over,” Emily said, breathlessly, her tears suddenly stopped. “It’s really over.”

“Are you drunk?” Ben cried incredulously. “First you want to get married – and now you want to break up?”

“No,” Emily said. “I’m just not blind anymore. This – you, me – it was never right.” She stood up, discarding her napkin in her seat. “I’m moving out,” she said. “I’ll stay at Amy’s tonight, then fetch my things tomorrow.”

“Emily,” Ben said, reaching for her. “Can we please talk about this?”

“Why?” she shot back. “So you can convince me to wait another seven years before we buy our own home? Another decade before we get a joint bank account? Seventeen years before you so much as consider the thought of getting a cat together?”

“Please,” Ben said under his breath, looking at the approaching waiter carrying his dessert. “You’re making a scene.”

Emily knew she was but she didn’t care. She wasn’t about to change her mind.

“There’s nothing left to talk about,” she said. “It’s over. Enjoy your salted-butterscotch mousse!”

And with those final words, she stormed out of the restaurant.

Chapter Two

Emily stared at her keyboard, willing her fingers to move, to do something, anything. Another email popped into her inbox and she looked at it blankly. The sound of the office chatter around her swirled in one ear and out the other. She couldn’t concentrate. She felt like she was in a daze. The complete lack of sleep she’d gotten on Amy’s lumpy couch was hardly helping matters.

She’d been at work a whole hour but hadn’t achieved anything more than to turn on her computer and drink a cup of coffee. Her mind was completely consumed with memories of last night. Ben’s face kept flashing through her head. It made her feel slightly panicked every time she relived the terrible evening.

Her phone began blinking, and she glanced at the screen to see Ben’s name flashing at her for the umpteenth time. He was calling, again. She hadn’t answered a single one of his calls. What could there possibly be to talk about now? He’d had seven years to work out whether he wanted to be with her or not – a last-minute attempt to save things wasn’t going to do anything now.

Her office phone began to ring and she leapt a mile, then grabbed it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Emily, it’s Stacey from the fifteenth floor. I have it down that you were supposed to attend the meeting this morning and wanted to check in to see why you hadn’t.”

“SHIT!” Emily cried, slamming down the phone. She’d completely forgotten about the meeting.

She leapt up from her desk and ran across the office toward the elevator. Her frantic state seemed to amuse her co-workers, who began whispering like silly children. When she reached the elevator, she slammed her palm against the button.

“Come on, come on, come on!”

It took ages, but at last, the elevator arrived. As the doors slid open, Emily went to rush inside, only to slam straight into someone coming out. As she drew back, winded, she realized the person she’d slammed into was her boss, Izelda.

“I’m so sorry,” Emily stammered.

Izelda looked her up and down. “For what, exactly? Slamming into me, or missing the meeting?”

“Both,” Emily said. “I was on my way there right now. It completely slipped my mind.”

She could feel every eye in the office burning into her back. The last thing she needed right now was a dose of public humiliation, something Izelda took great pleasure in dishing out.

“You have a calendar?” Izelda said coolly, folding her arms.

“Yes.”

“And you know how it works? How to write?”

Behind Emily, she could hear people stifling their laughter. Her first instinct was to wilt like a flower. Being made a fool in front of an audience was her idea of a nightmare. But just like in the restaurant last night, a strange sense of clarity overcame her. Izelda wasn’t some authority figure she had to look up to and bend to the whims of. She was just a bitter woman taking her anger out on anyone she could. And those colleagues whispering behind her back meant nothing.

A sudden wave of realization washed over Emily. Ben wasn’t the only thing she didn’t like about her life. She hated her job, too. These people, this office, Izelda. She’d been stuck here for years, just like she’d been stuck with Ben. And she wasn’t going to put up with it anymore.

“Izelda,” Emily said, addressing her boss by her first name for the first time ever, “I’m going to have to be honest here. I missed the meeting, it slipped my mind. It’s not the worst thing in the world.”

Izelda glowered.

“How dare you!” she snapped. “I’ll have you working at your desk until midnight for the next month until you learn the value of being prompt!”

With those words Izelda brushed by her, bumping Emily’s shoulder, as if to storm off, the matter clearly settled in her eyes.

But it wasn’t settled in Emily’s.

Emily reached out and grabbed Izelda’s shoulder, stopping her.

Izelda turned and grimaced back, brushing Emily’s hand off as if she’d been bitten by a snake.

But Emily did not give ground.

“I didn’t finish,” Emily continued, keeping her voice completely calm. “The worst thing in the world is this place. It’s you. It’s this stupid, petty, soul-destroying job.”

“Excuse me?” Izelda cried, her face turning red with anger.

“You heard me,” Emily replied. “In fact, I’m pretty sure everyone heard me.”

Emily glanced over her shoulder at her colleagues, who stared back, dumbfounded. No one had expected quiet, compliant Emily to snap like this. She recalled Ben’s warning that she was “making a scene” last night. And here she was, making another one. Only this time she was enjoying it.

“You can take your job, Izelda,” Emily added, “and stick it up your ass.”

She could practically hear the gasps from behind her.

She shoved past Izelda into the elevator, then spun on her heel. She hit the ground floor button for what, she realized, with absolute relief, would be the last time in her life, then watched the scene of her stunned colleagues staring at her as the doors slid shut and blocked them out. She let out a huge sigh, feeling freer and lighter than she had ever felt.

*

Emily ran up the steps to her apartment, realizing it wasn’t really her apartment – it never really had been. She’d always felt as if she were living in Ben’s space, that she needed to make herself as small and unobtrusive as possible. She fumbled with her keys, grateful that he was at work and she wouldn’t have to deal with him.

She got inside and looked at it with new eyes. Nothing in here was to her taste. Everything seemed to take on a new meaning; the horrible couch that she and Ben had argued over buying (an argument he won); the stupid coffee table that she wanted to throw out because one of the legs was shorter than the others and it always wobbled (but which Ben was attached to for “sentimental reasons” and so it stayed); the oversized TV that had cost far too much and took up too much space (but which Ben had insisted he needed in order to watch sports because it was the “only thing” that could keep him sane). She grabbed a couple of books from the shelf, noting how her romance novels had been relegated to the shadows of the bottom shelf (Ben was always worried their friends would think him less intellectual if they saw romance novels on the shelf – his preferences were academic texts and philosophers, although he never seemed to read any of them).

She glanced over the photos on the mantel to see if there was anything worth taking, when it struck her how every picture that contained her was with Ben’s family. There they were at his niece’s birthday, at his sister’s wedding. There wasn’t a single picture of her with her mom, the only person in her family, let alone of Ben spending any time with them both. It suddenly struck Emily that she had been a stranger in her own life. She’d been following someone else’s path for years rather than forging her own.

She stormed through the apartment and into the bathroom. Here were the only things that really mattered to her – her nice bath products and makeup. But even that was a problem for Ben. He’d constantly complained about how many products she had, lamenting on them being a waste of money.

“It’s my money to waste!” Emily cried at her reflection in the mirror as she threw all her belongings into a tote bag.

She was aware that she looked like a madwoman, rushing around the bathroom throwing half-empty bottles of shampoo in her bag, but she didn’t care. Her life with Ben had been nothing more than a lie, and she wanted to get out of it as quickly as possible.

She ran into the bedroom next and grabbed her suitcase from under the bed. She filled it quickly with all her clothes and shoes. Once she was done collecting her things, she dragged it all out into the street. Then, as a final symbolic gesture, she went back into the apartment and placed her key on Ben’s “sentimental” coffee table, then left, never to return.

It was only as she stood on the curb that it really hit Emily what she had done. She had made herself jobless and homeless in the space of a few hours. Making herself single had been one thing, but chucking in her entire life was quite another.

Little flutters of panic began to race through her. Her hands trembled as she pulled out her cell and dialed Amy’s number.

“Hey, what’s up?” Amy said.

“I’ve done something crazy,” Emily replied.

“Go on…” Amy urged her.

“I quit my job.”

She heard Amy exhale on the other end of the line.

“Oh thank God,” her friend’s voice came. “I thought you were going to tell me you’d got back with Ben.”

“No, no, quite the opposite. I packed my bags and left. I’m standing in the street like a bag lady.”

Amy began to laugh. “I have the best mental image right now.”

“This isn’t funny!” Emily replied, more panicked than ever. “What am I supposed to do now? I quit my job. I won’t be able to get an apartment without a job!”

“You’ve got to admit it’s a bit funny,” Amy replied, chuckling. “Just bring it all over here,” she added, nonchalantly. “You know you can stay with me until you figure things out.”

But Emily didn’t want to. She’d essentially spent years of her life living in someone else’s space, being made to feel like a lodger in her own home, like Ben was doing her a favor just by having her around. She didn’t want that anymore. She needed to forge her own life, to stand on her own two feet.

“I appreciate the offer,” Emily said, “but I need to do my own thing for a while.”

“I get it,” Amy replied. “So what then? Leave town for a bit? Clear your head?”

That got Emily thinking. Her dad owned a house in Maine. They’d stayed in it during the summer when she was a kid, but it had stayed empty ever since he’d disappeared twenty years ago. It was old, filled with character, and had been gorgeous at one point, in a historic sort of way; it had been more like a sprawling B&B that he didn’t know what to do with than a house.

It was barely in passable shape back then, and Emily knew it wouldn’t be in good shape now, after twenty years left derelict; it also wouldn’t feel the same empty – or now that she wasn’t a kid. Not to mention it was hardly summer. It was February!

And yet the idea of spending a few days just sitting on the porch, looking out at the ocean, in a place that was hers (sort of) seemed suddenly very romantic. Getting out of New York for the weekend would be a good way to clear her head and try to work out what to do next.

“I’ve got to go,” Emily said.

“Wait,” Amy replied. “Tell me where you’re going first!”

Emily took a deep breath.

“I’m going to Maine.”