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Damn it, why didn’t I memorize her number? I could… I could call her barbershop!
I shove my chair back, and David fumbles with his own phone. “Call Grandma. She’ll be able to get in touch.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” Grandma first, then the barbershop.
But when I dial our grandmother’s phone number, it rings out. They still have a landline, so I try the house—no answer. My grandfather doesn’t have a cell phone, and no one answers at the barbershop. Why does no one answer at the barbershop? She should be there. David doesn’t have anyone else’s number in Heart’s Cove. I could call the hotel, maybe? Four Cups?
“I need a phone charger.” I glance behind me, at the bar lining the far side of Rita’s. Someone in here will have a charger, and I’ll be able to call Mia and explain everything.
But I’ve only taken a single step toward the bar when Vince walks through the door.
“Here we go,” David mutters behind me.
Vince’s smarmy smile spreads over his lips, and he strides toward us. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Faker. I fucking knew you paid her to show up to Thanksgiving. A woman like that doesn’t voluntarily spend time with a guy like you.”
I freeze, the panic in my veins solidifying to something much, much worse. “What?”
David, who had stepped around to my side of the table, spins to face me. “What?”
Vince just laughs. “It was all a lie. All those daddy-daughter moments you had with Bailey—fake. All those moments of PDA and Des being the gallant hero carrying Mia inside after they fell in the pond—fake. The touching—fake. The kisses—fake. The moon-eyes—fake, fake,fake. Every bit of it.” Vince leans in, his face growing hard. “And now Grandma is in the hospital because of you, you asshole. Because you didn’t have the balls to just show up to Thanksgiving alone like you should’ve.”
This time, both David and I speak at the same time. “What?”
“She passed out when she heard you lied to us all, Des, and now she and Grandpa are both admitted to the hospital. You probably gave her a heart attack. Mom’s blowing her lid.”
I don’t even answer. I just grab my jacket, toss a few bills on the table, and take off at a sprint for the nearest taxi. All my stuff is in the hotel room. Doesn’t matter. I’ll deal with it later—somehow. The whole point of coming to Lovers’ Peak one last time was to sell the house and organize shipping for all the belongings I’d kept in storage, but none of that matters now.
All that matters is getting on a plane and getting back to Heart’s Cove.
Because I messed up bad. I messed up so bad, I might not be able to fix it again.
37
MIA
I’ve been sittingin the hospital waiting room for hours. Des’s phone is still going straight to voicemail, and I don’t have anyone else’s number. Arthur was so distressed by his wife’s fainting spell that he had to be admitted to the hospital too, so I had to take Maude’s keys, go to their home, and rifle through their things to find Wendy’s phone number. Then I came back here and started my long vigil, feeling like the worst person in the world.
I caused this. A nice old couple is in the hospital because of me.
A commotion happens down the hall, and I stand up from the uncomfortable waiting room chair to take a look—and my heart stops.
Des comes striding down the hallway like a runaway train. Nurses and orderlies scurry out of his way and scowl as he passes, but the force of him is too strong to be stopped. I grow roots and stand where I am, ready to be chopped down like an old tree.
I deserve whatever anger he has for me. I deserve it all. I hurt his grandparents—me. Because I was too much of a coward to face him, because I couldn’t look him in the eyes and tell him I cared and I didn’t want him to leave.
Des comes closer, his dark eyes terrible. His jaw is covered in scruff, like he hasn’t shaved since the last time he was in the barbershop. That’s crazy. It means it’s been nearly two weeks since he shaved, when he’s usually clean-shaven. He looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him. His jaw is tight and a muscle in his cheek jumps. His shoulders are larger than life, his body looming larger and larger with every step.
Finally, when he’s three feet away from me, I find my voice. “Des, I’m so sorry—”
His lips collide with mine, those big, warm hands curling around either side of my neck. I’m so surprised that I let out a squeak against his mouth, eyes widening as he kisses me harder. Then he pulls away, gaze flicking between my eyes, and says, “Are you okay?”
My head is spinning so hard I don’t know which way is up. “What? Yes, I’m fine. But Des, your grandmother—she—I—it was my fault, because I said—I told her, and you were gone…”
He kisses my forehead, and I snap my lips shut.
What in the world is going on?
A door closes behind me, and we both turn to face the doctor exiting Maude and Arthur’s room. The doctor is a tall woman with dark-brown skin and hair streaked with silver. She studies Des for a beat. “Are you the grandson?”
