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She was right. I wished Claire was the type of person who would sue so that it would be easier to hate her. Then again, if she was, she wouldn’t have been invited to dinner in the first place. My mother was more of a people person than I was, but she didn’t tolerate jerks.
Neither did Claire. So why the hell did she kiss me? Why was she bothering with me when I’d made it clear I wanted nothing to do with her?
Not true.It seemed I was full of lies this morning. Ever since I’d seen her wrapped in a towel at her rental house, I’d wanted everything to do with her. Instead of resenting the fact that she was a rep for Markham, I should have been grateful because it gave me a solid reason to follow my own rule—don’t get involved with outsiders.
“I don’t understand why you’re so against the Markham resort,” my mother said gently. “You’re not an idiot—”
“Are you sure about that?” I scrubbed a hand over my face. I’d been messing up lately, the worst of which was with Lyra. She didn’t deserve the judgmental words I’d flung at her after dinner. It was despicable that I’d used the circumstances behind Sophia’s birth as a weapon. Lyra might forgive me for that, but I never would. I prayed Sophia would never find out. I’d rather have walked barefoot over hot coals than hurt that little girl.
“You have your moments,” my mom said diplomatically, “but I want to understand why you are so against the Markham resort. If it’s not Markham, it’ll be another corporation. And if not now, then in one year or five years or even ten years.”
“Maybe,” I said grudgingly, “but that doesn’t mean I have to roll over and let them fix something that isn’t broken.”Hey, that’s pretty good.I’d have to remember that line when I talked to the next commission member.
“Something doesn’t have to be broken for it to be improved. Take me and Paul. I certainly wasn’t broken without him, but I’m better for having him in my life.”
That was true. When my parents married and began sharing life’s burdens and responsibilities, her smiles became brighter and more frequent. Paul made her happy. Even as a preteen, I’d recognized it.
But she was comparing apples to oranges. Or more like apples to olives, which were fucking disgusting.
I shook my head. “That isn’t the same.”
She gave me a sidelong glance. “Isn’t it?”
Is she still talking about the resort or something—someone—else?Damn it.My mom was a verbal ninja, and I wasn’t ready for this conversation. The air inside the waiting room was suddenly stifling.
“Do you want coffee or something?” I asked.
“No, thanks. Any more caffeine, and I’ll be twitchy.”
I kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll get you some water, then.”
I trotted down the stairs and pushed my way out the first exit I came to, which happened to be right next to the dumpsters. So much for a breath of fresh air. I walked around the building, hoping a few laps would help clear my head.
My mom’s words echoed in my mind—“Something doesn’t have to be broken for it to be improved.”Out of all the arguments I’d heard in favor of the resort, that was the only one that made any sense to me. It was like the Sunwheat IPA—perfectly fine, but with a slight change, it was better than fine.
A massive resort wasn’t a slight change, though. And while I could go back to the old Sunwheat recipe, it wouldn’t be so easy to undo the building of a resort. Once the islands’ landscape was changed, it was a done deal. So while my mother’s words made sense, my vote was still no. It was too big a risk—anunnecessaryrisk. Because things were fine. Better than fine. Things were great.
Her double meaning wasn’t lost on me, either. How could it be when she’d made the direct comparison to her and Paul? But Claire and me becoming a couple was a nonstarter—she didn’t live here. Just like her first visit, her time in the Carolina Banks was temporary. So the question of whether I’d be better for having her in my life was pointless.
I circled the building again. Claire shouldn’t have kissed me, damn it. More to the point, I shouldn’t have kissed her back—shouldn’t have pulled her body against me when the only thought in my head wasmine. This was why I hadn’t kissed her all those years ago—it put impossible notions in my mind. She wasn’t—and never would be—mine.
No, I definitely needed to stay the course, to squash the resort proposal and send Claire on her way. My momentary wavering was only because I was running on little sleep and hyped on caffeine, not to mention that I’d been in the antiseptic-smelling, overly sterile waiting room for hours. That was enough to make anyone question what they knew to be true.
My new strategy when Claire came up in a conversation with my mother—which was bound to happen—would be to smile, nod, and say nothing. Then after Claire was gone, the problem would solve itself.
I returned to the waiting room, and a few minutes later, the doctor came to let us know the procedure had gone well. I immediately sent a group text to my siblings and headed into the recovery room. Paul was groggy and confused, which the nurse told us was normal for coming out of anesthesia. By the time we got the all clear to leave, it was nearly dark. Getting Paul in and out of my truck and into the house was a shit show. I was glad I’d done my research and planned to be there to help, because he was a nightmare on crutches. There was no way my mom or the girls could have helped him get around. My mom fretted over Paul, and Sadie hovered anxiously at her heels, whining. The dog knew something was up, and she didn’t like it.
I knelt down next to her and stroked her silky fur. “Don’t worry, girl. He’ll be good as new soon. Better than before.”
I wasn’t the only one who had planned ahead for the surgery. I’d made a list of all the available takeout, while my mom had frozen several prepared meals, which was probably the healthier option.Sorry, Paul.I popped a casserole in the oven, and Alec showed up to relieve me after we ate. He was going to sleep there in case they needed something in the middle of the night.
I took Alec aside. “He should be able to get to the bathroom with help, but there’s a bedpan—”
“Dude.” Alec grimaced. “It won’t come to that.”
“But if it does—”
“It won’t. Dad would rather piss himself than let me help him onto a bedpan.”
