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“Well earned, I’d say. That’s a lot of rooms.”
“It wasn’t bad with so many people.”
“Looks like most of your family showed up,” Knox said, nodding to the guys who were at the shore now, horsing around.
“I’m related to all four of them,” I said. “The two who aren’t Henrys are Norths and they’re my new stepbrothers, one of them a brother-in-law too.” I chuckled at the convoluted family tree we Henrys and Norths made.
“I’ve met Hayden’s husband, Zane.”
“The other one is Cole. His wife is Sierra.” I pointed her out. “Our dad married Cole and Zane’s mom, Faye.”
Knox stood up straighter and glanced around, as if looking for the older couple. “They didn’t get roped into painting, huh?”
I grinned at the phraseroped into. “Actually, I suspect they would’ve been here helping, but they ended up babysitting Hayden’s son and some other grandkids.”
He leaned forward on the railing again. “I guess you had a big enough crew to get the job done.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t hear us. We weren’t a quiet bunch. We wouldn’t have turned down more help.”
He looked at me as if to gauge whether I meant it. Maybe, if he’d shown up, I would’ve grumbled to myself, but today was about Ava, and I liked to think I would’ve lived and let live—or painted and let paint.
Turning back to the scene below us, where Zane had swept Hayden up in his arms and was holding her over the water, threatening to drop her, Knox said, “I was downtown for most of the day with my laptop. Spent the morning at the bakery, grabbed lunch at the diner, then found a bench on the square and tried to get unstuck on my book but mostly people watched. A frustrating day overall. Painting would’ve been more fun and more productive.”
I was surprised he’d shared that much with me. God knew we’d never been buddies. My doing, of course. “Ava said your story’s good,” I offered.
“She read my first one. I appreciate her taking time to read a newbie like me.”
“She loves writing, talking writing, reading writing. I’m sure she enjoyed it,” I said. “Maybe see if she has suggestions for getting unstuck.”
“She volunteered to read what I have, which isn’t much. I keep telling myself I did it once. I can write another one. I suspect the first one went so fast because I didn’t know any better.”
“I don’t know how you guys do it,” I said, letting the thoughts I’d had toward Ava’s writing surface.
“Just like I don’t know how you create the dishes at Henry’s. Creativity’s weird, I guess.”
Not everyone understood the creativity involved in being a good chef, and I couldn’t help appreciating his comment. Maybe even almost starting to like him. It wasn’t that hard if I didn’t look at him as someone who was interested in Ava beyond friendship.
Yeah, I might be slow and stupid. Just look at how I’d handled things seventeen years ago. It’d be nice to be able to say I was less stupid now.
My gaze wandered to Ava again, sitting sideways on a lounger, sharing the chair with Everly. Chloe was on the one next to them, with Shawna at the foot of it, and all four of them were leaning in, likely talking about whatever it was women found to talk about anytime they were together.
“Why don’t you come down and join us?” I said, knowing Ava would be happy to see him. If I had to remind myself a time or two that she’d be onmylap and going home withme, chalk it up to old habits dying hard. I could bury the one-sided hatchet, especially for her.
Knox eyed me like he was waiting for the punch line. “You sure about that?”
I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Fair question. I’ve been an insecure asshole where you’re considered. I’m sorry for that.”
He looked at me again, not convinced.
“I know Ava would like it if we made peace.” I extended my hand to seal a peace accord.
“This isn’t just because you breathed in paint fumes all day?”
It took about a second and a half for me to realize that was his way of being funny. I relaxed my shoulders a degree, grinned, and shook my head, continuing to hold my hand out.
He studied me for a few more seconds, then shook. With a laugh, he said, “Wouldn’t mind getting to know the parts of you that aren’t an asshole.”
“Might be a couple parts,” I said, chuckling. “Might not.”
