Page 112 of Fish Out of Water

“I do, Mother.”

“Sucha miserable life.” Madeleine shook her head, her withering gaze still trained on her son.

“I agree,” Robbie said. “It is a miserable life the two of you lead.”

Somewhere behind them, or around them, the party was still going. The more danceable pop and hip-hop had since morphed into classical pieces, prompting lovers and friends alike to slow dance with each other.

“Robbie, please be sensible,” Madeleine said. “We already know you don’t care about all the money, but the inheritance… think of all the things you could use it for. You could even give it all away if you really wished to. We’ll be dead and gone, so it’s not as if you’ll have anyone looking over your shoulder to make sure you use it in a way we would approve.”

Robbie swallowed hard. Jake had no idea exactly how much in cash assets Robbie would receive when his parents kicked the bucket, but it had to be more than enough for multiple people to live comfortably on for the rest of their lives. The ways in which a man like Robbie might use itcouldchange a lot for a lot of people.

The Eatons were good.

“Tempting,” Robbie said, “but I don’t want your tainted money. Throw it into the ocean, for all I care. You know as well as I do that it’s worth nothing to you if you’re not alive, and noone else wants to be associated with the Eaton name even when you’re long gone.”

Jake fought back a brief smirk. Three could play this game, apparently.

“I’ll make better use of this shameful family legacy than you ever could, with or without the inheritance. And I’m tired of waiting for you to give me permission. I’m staying, and I want nothing to do with your family again. Do you understand?”

“Robert,” the other Robert said, his voice rising enough to make people around them stop and look, “don’t act like such a child. You’ve always had a penchant for whining when you don’t get your way, but this is on another level. Please, act your age.”

Fire rose in Jake’s chest again, burning his throat and pressing against his lungs. “Do you even love your son?” he asked, taking a pointed step forward. It was too late to take anything back now. He might as well go all the way.

“Pardon me?” Madeleine looked at Jake with an expression that told him he was being given one last chance. Perhaps hehadn’tsaid what she knew she’d heard.

“Do you have even an ounce of love for your son?” Jake asked again, more slowly, more clearly, this time.

“Howdareyou speak to my wife in that manner,” Robert snapped, rising from behind the long fold-up table.

“Then you don’t,” Jake said, shaking his head. “I didn’t think so.”

He reached out, grabbed Robbie’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. It was warm and familiar, soft and gentle. Never had he missed such a simple touch more.

Everyone was watching now. When Madeleine stood up, pushing her chair back so hard that it teetered and fell into the sand, the music stopped. The cocktail shaker stilled, the breeze died down, and even the sea itself flattened into a sheet of unbroken water.

“You should mind your own business,” she said coldly, “instead of inserting yourself into family matters.”

“Unlike you,” Jake continued on entirely unfazed, a sudden wave of confidence washing over him and making him squeeze Robbie’s hand even tighter in reassurance, “Idolove Robbie. I care about him; I want the best for him. I want—” he paused, looking to the man beside him to make sure he was all right with this.

Robbie didn’t have any sort of readable expression on his face, but when he met Jake’s eyes, his own eyes softened, his slightly furrowed brow relaxing.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with him right here in Eventide, where we belong. And I swear to you, Mr. and Mrs. Eaton, you won’t get in our way. Nothing you do or say can pull Robbie back in now—not your obscene inheritance, not your big, ugly house, and certainly not the fact that you’re family. That doesn’t mean anything anymore—not with the way you abuse it.”

Madeleine’s merlot lips pursed into the tightest line possible. They creased, her chin dimpling, and her forehead miraculously formed lines. Jake had never seen someone so angry before, and for just a moment, he feared he’d gone too far.

“Very well,” she said darkly. “We are in agreement: no money, no estate,nothing. If you cut yourself off today, Robert Alan Eaton the 3rd, you are no longer part of our family. This is what you want?”

Robbie gave a single nod. “Yes, this is what I want.”

“And yet you still wish to live in a town we practically own?”

“You won’t own it if we can help it,” Isabel said from behind Jake and Robbie. Jake whirled around, pulling Robbie with him. “You know the anonymous buyer for the bookstore?”

“Yes,” Robert said, “but how doyouknow about that?”

“That buyer is me—and some of my friends. It’s a big commitment, but it’s one more business the community holds instead of you, Robert.”

Robbie’s lips twitched. If he had started laughing—or crying—Jake wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised, but he held it together, instead squeezing Jake’s hand back with a grip so viselike it made Jake’s bones ache.