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Nate Kingsley is a local whiskey distiller I’ve known forever. Our families had a little Capulet and Montague thing going on back in the day, and until recently, there was still some bad blood there. While I don’t love the idea of Milly dating a Kingsley, I do want her to be happy. And if Nate is brave enough to take on that job, well, more power to him.
I tip back my glass. “I’d say good for her if she didn’t look so down.”
“I’ve asked her about it, but she keeps saying she’s fine.”
“She told me that love is a bitch.”
Beau lifts his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t Milly always say that? She isn’t exactly a softie.”
“True.”
We watch her and Stevie together for another beat while we finish our cocktails.
“I’m just praying Uncle Larry doesn’t share that story about his blushing bride,” Beau says, nodding at our uncle, who’s now chatting up Stevie.
“How she was a virgin on their wedding night?”
“Who tells people that shit?”
“Uncle Larry.”
“You’re right.” I swallow a big slug of whiskey, wincing at the burn. “I should go rescue her.”
“Wait.” Beau puts a hand on my arm. “I know you’ve only been back a few days. But I wanted to let you know we’re ready for you to return to work when you are. If you are. I’m open to talk about it anytime. You know that, right? The offer stands for you to head up guest relations again, same as it did nine months ago. We didn’t hire anyone new because we wanted to keep the position open for when you came back.”
“You knew I’d come home?”
Beau lifts a shoulder. “Had a hunch.”
I hesitate. Sip my whiskey. “How’s Gregory been doing?”
Gregory, the interim head of guest relations, is a hard worker, very detail oriented, but he’s young and doesn’t have the kind of experience someone in his role typically would. I knew he’d need a lot of hand-holding.
I probably should’ve checked in on our guest relations team while I was on my bender. But I needed a break, a real one, and I knew if I sat down to answer a single email, I’d get sucked right back in.
“He’s done well, all things considered. It was a huge stroke of luck that you’d already implemented a lot of your strategies for the team, so really Gregory’s been in a kind of holding pattern since you left. I’ve helped out, and so has Emma. Samuel too. We haven’t gotten any complaints.”
I let out a silent sigh of relief. I hated the idea of leaving everyone in the lurch, but I had no choice. It’s good to know shit didn’t hit the fan while I took the time I needed.
“Have you given coming back to work with us any thought? Like, at all?” Beau presses.
“I have. Of course I have, Beau. Blue Mountain is in my blood.”
“So?”
I let out a breath. “I did enjoy a lot of what the job entailed. I’d consider returning. But it can’t be like before, Beau. I can’t work the way I did.”
“Okay.” He dips his head in a nod. “What do we need to change?”
“I’d need more help for starters.” I train my gaze on Stevie. She catches me looking and smiles. “Another assistant. And I wouldn’t want to work weekends.”
Beau winces. “Weekends are our bread and butter. As head of guest relations . . .”
“Right. Welp, that’s something we could talk about. But five days a week, max. Obviously I’d be happy to work more for special events and stuff.” I shrug. “Guess I just want to get my priorities in the right order. Because as much as I love the resort, it can’t be everything, you know?”
“Dude.” Beau puts a hand on my shoulder. “I had no idea you felt that way.”
“You had a few issues of your own to figure out. And I wasn’t exactly forthcoming about my feelings. Truth be told, I’m not sure I knew how burned out I was until . . .”
I don’t finish the sentence. I don’t have to.
Beau gives my shoulder a squeeze. “I did have shit to figure out. But as Blue Mountain’s CEO—and more than that, as your brother—I should’ve been paying attention. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.”
“And I know what you mean when you say work can’t be everything.” He looks at Annabel, who’s chatting with Mama by the fireplace. “Life is better when you’ve got people to come home to.”
It is. I’ve had Stevie in my house for all of twenty-four hours, and I already don’t dread going home the way I used to.
A hand grips my windpipe and squeezes. It’s really gonna suck when she leaves.
“Stevie’s great,” Beau says, lowering his voice. “I’m happy for you, Hank.”
Squeeze gets firmer. Pulse gets faster. “Thanks. I should probably—”
“Go get your girl. I don’t need to tell you not to fuck it up, right?”
