He shifted his gaze from the small crowd on the portico and caught sight of Molly Callahan, Tessa’s niece by marriage, playing tag with several other children, oblivious to how the rain stained their fine dress clothes. His lips tugged upward at the sight, and he wished he could abandon his dark mood and join them.
He searched the group of children for his nephew, Kitt, and wasn’t surprised when he didn’t see the little boy among them. Ever since his father’s death two years before, Kitt had become a very serious child. Running through the rain wasn’t something he’d take part in.
Burke moved his eyes back to the portico and found his nephew seated at Great-Aunt Lenora’s feet, the old woman’s hand absently stroking his hair. She leaned down and said something to the boy, but he didn’t respond.
Burke’s heart twisted anew. Not for his own loss but for his nephew’s. Would Kitt never laugh again?
Then again...would he? Between his brother’s death almost two years ago and now Tessa’s defection, he didn’t think there was much to smile about these days. His eyes continued to scan the group gathered on the portico, the kids scattered around the lawn, and the guests huddled in the tent, drawing into the center to avoid the rain that was blowing in through the open flaps.
It wasn’t until he saw her approaching that he realized he’d been looking for her in particular.
Erin. His brother’s widow, braving the downpour to get to him. Funny that no one else had bothered.
When she reached his side, she held out an umbrella, and he almost—but not quite—laughed at the sight. She’d picked her way across the grass, letting the deluge soak her, and hadn’t opened the umbrella. What good would it be to either of them now?
“Aunt Lenora says you should come in out of the rain.”
He could only blink in reply. Erin took a step closer.
“Burke, I’m sorry. But she’s not coming back. There’s no point in standing out here, waiting for her.”
“I’d rather be out here than in there—” he gestured toward the tent “—where they can all stare at me.”
Erin took his hand, the warmth of her fingers startling him. His own were chilled straight through to the bone.
“No one’s staring, Burke. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Her words penetrated, and he laughed, an empty, bitter sound. “I’ve just been stood up by my fiancée on my wedding day, which was already ruined by this freak rainstorm. I kind of think I have something to be embarrassed about.”
Erin’s eyes sparked. “Well, I imagine standing out here in the rain like an idiot only makes it worse.”
His jaw sagged. “You know, most people would be feeling sorry for me right about now.”
She sighed. “I do feel sorry for you, Burke. But I don’t pity you. Tessa’s not a cruel woman. If she didn’t want to marry you, then I suspect she had a good reason. Now, are you coming in out of the rain or not?”
He swallowed, shifting his gaze from Erin and to the arbor that had looked so festive and fresh only an hour earlier. Now, the boughs of greenery were sagging, dripping water in rivulets down the white columns. The flowers had lost quite a few petals, beaten from their stems by the rain and littering the ground in a soggy mess.
“I have nowhere to go,” he said, more to himself than to Erin. He’d lived for so long without a home that he hadn’t realized how much he was looking forward to finally settling down.
All of his possessions were boxed up in Tessa’s garage. He was supposed to move in with her after their honeymoon. He felt a pang at the realization that he wouldn’t have a home after all.
“You can stay at the Moontide,” Erin told him. “Aunt Lenora already said so.”
“I can’t stay at the inn,” he replied, almost defensively.
Erin frowned. She was a mess, the rain having washed her mascara in black lines down her cheeks. He felt a twinge of guilt that she was standing out here, in the rain with him, when no one else had bothered.
“Why not?” she demanded.
He couldn’t explain it to her, couldn’t give voice to his feelings on the subject. There were so many reasons for him to stay away from the bed-and-breakfast. Despite the fact that it had been his permanent home for four years as a teenager, he had never felt like he belonged there. And even less so now, knowing it was the house where Erin and Gavin had made their home, even though his brother had been deployed in the army for much of that time. Maybe it shouldn’t have mattered, given that the inn was over two centuries old and had housed hundreds, maybe thousands, of guests during its lifetime. What was one more?
But it wasn’t that simple. Not for him.
While this internal argument ensued, Erin’s fingers tightened on his, the heat of her skin briefly bringing some feeling back into his own.
“It’s either the inn, or we ask Allan to put you up in the Delphine.”
This snapped some sense back into him. “I am not going to ask my fiancée’s father to put me up at the resort he owns after she ditched me.” He coughed. “Ex-fiancée,” he corrected.
Erin frowned. “You said it yourself, you have nowhere to go.”
He closed his eyes at the reminder. How had he ended up here? Just an hour ago, he’d had everything he ever wanted—he’d been about to become a husband, hopefully within the next year or two, a father, and he’d finally felt a sense of belonging. At peace. Settled.
But now all his dreams had washed away with the coming of the rain...and Tessa’s desertion.
The Delphine and the Moontide were the only two hotels in town. The Lodge had boarded up its doors last year. So he could either drive an hour outside of town and use his credit card to put himself up at a motel on the outskirts until he could figure out his next move, or he could go begging Allan Worth for a free room at the Delphine.
He was sure his father-in-law—correction, his ex-fiancée’s dad—would have let him stay in the suite he and Tessa were meant to have for their wedding night, but no way did he want to set foot in that room now. Nor did he want to stay at the Delphine at all, where the staff and Tessa’s family could take note and whisper about him behind his back.
That only left the Moontide.
Erin stood there patiently, letting him sort through his options before she spoke up once more.
“It would make Aunt Lenora happy,” she pointed out. “She’s always said that the years you lived there were some of her happiest.”
He hadn’t lived at the Moontide since he was eighteen years old. Other than a handful of visits, he hadn’t spent any length of time at the bed-and-breakfast since he and Gavin had lived there as teenagers.
“She’s missed having you under her roof,” Erin added.
He swallowed, not daring to voice the question that rose unbidden.
And you, Erin? Did you ever miss me?
He quashed the thought as quickly as it came. There was no point in thinking along these lines. He had spent several long years burying that question as deeply as he could. The only reason it surfaced now, he told himself, was because he was feeling vulnerable and betrayed. But he would not even consider the subject because it no longer mattered.
His heart protested, whispering, It does matter. It’s always mattered.
But he ignored his heart’s cry and tugged his hand free of Erin’s.
“All right. If Lenora has a room to spare, I’ll come to the Moontide.”
Erin looked at him so intently that he shifted away from her.
“But