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If only—
I shove the thought from my head. Can’t go there.
“Thanks, Mama. And Samuel, you think you can hook us up with a cooking lesson with Chef Katie?”
“Be happy to.”
“I can set the scene for the lesson,” Millie offers. “Make it pretty for y’all.”
My chest swells. My family may be a gigantic pain in my ass most of the time, but they come through when it counts. I’m lucky to have them.
“That’d be great. Really great. Thank you, guys.”
Hank grins. “Don’t think we aren’t winners here, too. We get you out of our hair for a bit. I’d say that’s a win-win for everyone.”
“Hey. I’m a fucking great boss.”
Mama shoots me a look. The same one she’s been giving me for as long as I can remember. “Language, son.”
“I’m sorry, Mama. These fools make it all too easy to forget my manners.”
The five of us sit and talk about what needs to be done around the resort for another hour. By the time we’re done and dinner is cleaned up—I do dishes, Hank dries, Samuel talks, and Mama and Milly have another glass of wine at the island—it’s nearly nine and dark outside. My family leaves one by one until Milly’s the only one left.
She’s typing furiously on her phone, a small smile working at her lips.
“Who’re you texting?” I ask. I try to get a better look at her phone.
“Nobody.” She hits the button on the side of her phone, blanking the screen. She stands. “It’s nothing. Are you really mad I told them? About you and Annabel? You know they would’ve found out anyway.”
I arch an eyebrow. “You sexting with that nobody?”
“I vastly prefer phone sex to sexting. Are you mad?”
I decide to let the texting go. For now, at least.
“Nah. I just—I don’t want to get everyone’s hopes up.”
She picks up her wineglass and drains it, then heads to the sink where she sets it down. “What’s wrong with hope?”
Tilting my head, I give my sister a you-know-why look. I nudge her out of the way and get to washing her glass.
“The impulse control.” I turn on the water. “What if me making out with Bel is a symptom of that?”
Milly leans her hip against the counter and crosses her arms. “What if you making out with Annabel is just your friendship blossoming into something it was always meant to become?”
I wince at how hot the water’s gotten, then reach for the knob to turn on the cold tap. “I’m done talking about this.”
“All right.” Milly holds up her hands. “But I feel like it’s my job as your sister—your friend—to tell you not to give up on yourself just yet.”
I drop the sponge and set the glass on the drying mat beside the sink, then turn off the water. Drying my hands on a towel, I turn around to face my sister.
Milly looks at me with her eyes narrowed. I look back.
“What?”
She keeps looking for another beat, like she’s deciding whether to say something.
“I wouldn’t wish what happened to Daddy on anyone, Beau. But in the end at least, he had his family around him. He had us. We’ll be there for you, too, but I hate to think of everything you’re missing out on by holding yourself back.” She straightens. “I think you’re gonna regret it.”
“You saw the way I acted the other morning, Milly. Whether or not I regret the choices I’ve made is a moot point. What if I’d hurt Nate Kingsley? What if I hurt someone else?”
“One, you didn’t hurt Nate. And two, what if you’re hurting someone by holding back?” She pats me on the shoulder. “I’m gonna leave you to chew on that. Night, Beau.”
I kiss her cheek when she wraps her arms around my neck. “Night.”
Something to chew on—not happening, sweet sister.
What I do work out are meeting times with my CFO and COO for the next morning. I also make a note to go over a few spreadsheets with our accounting team and put a call in to my head of marketing. I schedule meetings with Chef Katie, Samuel, Hank, and our web developer.
I’ll put out any fires and get everyone on the same page.
And then, for the first time in years, I take time off. Because it’s what Bel wants.
I’ll do anything for her while I still can.
Chapter Fifteen
Annabel
The water is freezing.
I’m wearing fleece-lined leggings underneath my waders, these goofy waterproof overall things. Wool socks underneath the rubber boots they gave me at the tack shop back at the farm.
But even through all those layers, I still feel the chilly press of water against my legs and butt as I make my way into the stream.
Sucking a breath through my teeth, I must make a face because Beau laughs.
“If you don’t like it, we can stop. But I promise this gets more fun.”
