The knocking stopped, but Elena remained pressed against the door for several minutes, listening to the sound of her own heartbeat. When she finally moved, it was to collapse onto her grandmother's faded floral sofa, surrounded by the ghosts of her past.
Nothing had changed. The same crocheted doilies adorned every surface, the same family photographs lined the mantelpiece, and the same overwhelming scent of lavender and old books filled the air. But Elena had changed. The girl who had grown up in this house who had dreamed of a simple life with the boy next door was gone, replaced by a woman who wore designer suits and closed million-dollar deals without blinking.
Her phone buzzed. A text from her assistant: Board meeting moved to Thursday. Reynolds case needs your review. When are you coming back?
Elena stared at the message. Three days ago, that question would have had a simple answer. She'd planned to be here just long enough to settle her grandmother's affairs and put the house on the market. Clean, efficient, final. But seeing Marcus again had complicated everything.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. This time it came from the back door.
"Elena? It's Mrs. Chen from across the street. I saw your car."
Mrs. Chen had been her grandmother's closest friend, a tiny woman with an enormous heart who had never missed an opportunity to meddle in Elena's love life. Elena opened the door to find her standing under a bright yellow umbrella, holding a covered dish.
"Oh, sweet girl," Mrs. Chen said, immediately enveloping Elena in a fierce hug that smelled like ginger and sympathy. "I'm so sorry about Rosa. She was so proud of you, you know. Never stopped talking about her successful granddaughter in the big city."
Elena's throat tightened. "I should have been here."
"Nonsense. You're here now, and that's what matters." Mrs. Chen pressed the dish into Elena's hands. "Chicken and dumplings. Your grandmother's recipe. You're too thin."
They stood in awkward silence for a moment before Mrs. Chen spoke again, her voice gentler. "He never married, you know. Marcus. Rosa always thought… well, we all hoped…"
"Mrs. Chen"
"I know, I know. None of my business. But that boy loved you something fierce. Still does, from what I can see. The way he's been taking care of this place since Rosa got sick, making sure the yard was tended and the roof was fixed…" She shook her head. "Some wounds never heal right, Elena. Sometimes they just need the right person to tend them."
After Mrs. Chen left, Elena found herself standing at the kitchen window, staring at the house next door. She could see warm light glowing from Marcus's windows, could almost imagine him inside, probably working on one of his carpentry projects. He'd always been good with his hands, able to fix anything broken.
Except her. He'd never been able to fix her.
The rain had stopped, leaving the world washed clean and smelling of earth and possibility. Against her better judgment, Elena found herself opening the back door and stepping onto the small porch. The boards creaked under her feet the same sound they'd made fifteen years ago when she and Marcus had sat here talking about their dreams.
"I wondered how long it would take you."
Elena spun around to find Marcus emerging from the shadows beside her grandmother's garden. He'd changed into dry clothes dark jeans and a gray henley that clung to his chest in ways that made her remember things she'd tried hard to forget.
"You were waiting for me?" she asked, hating how breathless she sounded.
"I've been waiting for you for five years, Elena. What's another hour?" He moved closer, and she caught the familiar scent of sawdust and something uniquely him. "You look good. Different, but good."
"So do you." The words slipped out before she could stop them.
They stood there, five feet and five years of hurt between them, neither knowing how to bridge the gap.
"I'm sorry about Rosa," Marcus said finally. "She was… she was like a grandmother to me too, especially after…"
"After I left." Elena finished the sentence he couldn't. "Marcus, I"
"Don't." His voice was quiet but firm. "Don't apologize. Not yet. I need to understand why first. Why you left without a word. Why you broke your promise. Why you threw away everything we had planned."
Elena's hand moved again to her collarbone, to the scar he couldn't see beneath her silk blouse. "It's complicated."
"Then uncomplicate it. I've got all night."
She wanted to run again, to retreat into the safety of her grandmother's house and book the first flight back to New York. But something in his eyes a vulnerability he was trying hard to hide kept her rooted to the spot.
"You won't understand," she whispered.
"Try me."