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And they were talking to each other.
Holy crap.
Her head was pounding and her mouth was dry.
“Sweetheart.” Nigel looked over at her, a smile on his face that immediately disappeared. “Are you okay? Do you have the flu?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m hungover. Why are you here, in Beaver Bend?”
“I wanted to surprise you. I thought we’d spend your last few days here together. I can meet your father, see where you spent your early childhood.” He strode toward her, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Hi, darling. Hungover, huh? That’s not like you.”
She stared at him, thoroughly bewildered. “Oh, wow, that was sweet. I wish you’d told me though.” Since she had a flight in eight hours that she was now going to have to change since she couldn’t admit to him she’d lied about her return plans.
Sullivan was backing up, rubbing his jaw, and looking about as irritated as she’d ever seen him.
“Sullivan, wait,” she said, shifting around Nigel. “I need to talk to you.”
“I think we’ve said everything we need to. Enjoy your time with your boyfriend.” He lifted his chin in Nigel’s direction. “Nice to meet you, man. Have fun in Minnesota. Stop by Tap That for a drink, it’s on me.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. I wouldn’t mind seeing the local pub.”
Edwina felt like she was choking. Like she genuinely couldn’t get any air into her lungs. She couldn’t go to Tap That with Nigel and have Sullivan serve drinks to them. She just couldn’t. It was two worlds that didn’t belong together colliding.
Finn came running over. “Daddy, can we—
Sullivan cut him off. “Finn, we’re going to Grandpa’s. Get your shoes on.”
“But—
“Now.”
Finn made a grumpy sound but Sullivan just reached down and picked him up. Finn started crying in angry protest, not because Sullivan was being rough in any way with him, but because he hadn’t gotten his way. Sullivan calmly ignored the tears and just carried him down the driveway. He didn’t look back.
It felt like her heart was breaking. She wanted to comfort both father and son. She wanted to run after them and make them both belong to her, forever.
“What’s the local dish?” Nigel asked.
“What?” she asked, staring at him blankly. She couldn’t seem to think.
He laughed. “I think you need some coffee. And a shower. You look like you had a rough night’s sleep.” He ran his finger down her nose. “You have a sunburn. Do you have aloe?”
Something clicked inside her at his tender touch.
What the hell was she doing?
She was with Nigel. He’d come all the way to Beaver Bend to make her happy. He cared about her. He was committed to her.
Sullivan had walked away.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Thank you for coming, that was very sweet.”
It was.
He was good to her. It was a fine relationship, if not filled with fireworks.
She refused to look at Sullivan. She refused to blow things with Nigel.
She was thirty-two-years old and she needed to be practical.
