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“I’m not sure,” I responded, gripping my fork and knife as if I could use them to ward off any follow-up question. “I can work remotely for a while, so I don’t have to rush back.”
“It must — ”
“Holden,” Sissy cut in again, laying her hand on his forearm, “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to make sure you saw the email I sent you about properties in Savannah. I’d love your opinion on some of the parts of the city they’re located in. We’re not as familiar with the city as you are, and I want to make sure I find the perfect home for us.”
“You’re moving to Savannah?” I blurted out, every ounce of horror I felt on display.
“Not moving per se, but I hate that Macon has to do so much driving back and forth.” She pouted, the very picture of loving concern. “He’s been working so much for the firm lately that I thought it would be good for us to have a place to stay in the city. Macon’s transitioning to the firm full-time soon anyway since his time at the DA’s office is almost over.”
My heart rate had reached hummingbird-on-meth speeds. I couldn’t seem to catch hold of any single thought out of the dozens that were racing through my head.
“By the way,” Sissy continued, oblivious to my inner turmoil, “I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you for wearing that romper. I could simplynever; they hide nothing.”
I hated that anything she said even gave me pause, but I felt my cheeks heat and had a moment of doubt about my body. Then I remembered that I was speaking with one of Satan’s most precious minions and shut that shit right down.
“Yes, I’m expecting my Nobel Prize any day now,” I mumbled, earning another kick to the shin. I sighed, wondering how long it was going to take everyone to eat so we could leave.
Sissy easily drew Holden into a conversation about renting vs. buying — Sissy wanted to buy, naturally — and I felt strangely disappointed that Holden seemed to fall for her antics. She thrived under the spotlight of attention, and Holden appeared more than willing to provide her with it.
Sorcery. It was a kind of sorcery. I turned to look at Macon, who was still wearing that boyish half-grin as he spoke to Daddy and Mr. St. James, and I felt sorry for him. He always seemed to see the good in people — that was probably why he had fallen under Sissy’s spell. I knew she had the ability to make you feel like you were the center of the world, and she was undeniably beautiful. She had a unique ability to charm people so much that they couldn’t see the shark just below the surface.
Macon really was so handsome. It was like all the goodness inside him shone right on through to the outside. I wasn’t still pining after him, either. Yes, I might have compared some of the men I’d dated to him, but Macon was just a measuring stick — a tool I used to judge others against, and nothing more.
Maybe it was just theideaof Macon St. James that appealed to me? I didn’t know. The truth was that I had never reconciled Macon the ideal with Macon the real man. In my mind, the fact that he had cheated on Cam with Sissy was entirely Sissy’s fault. I had never really apportioned him his fair share of the blame. Then there was the fact that he was now engaged to Sissy and looking genuinely happy about it. He did not look like a man filled with regrets.
Averting my gaze from Macon, I looked around the table thinking what a strange sight it was to see my family sharing a table with the St. Jameses — two very different groups of people. I felt like Alice must have after she fell through the rabbit hole. I could only hope that I made it out as unscathed as she had.
7
Istretched my legs, dipping my toes into the warm sand, and sighed. The sound of waves crashing into the shore lulled me into a peaceful doze, helped along by the sunshine cocooning me in its warmth. It was a beautiful day — not a cloud in the sky — and I was inexplicably the only person on the beach.
Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, a loud pounding tore through the silence, disturbing my tranquility. I sat up slowly, bringing a hand up to shade my eyes as I looked for the source of the noise.There!Someone had the gall to be working on the only boat tethered to the small wooden dock down the beach from me. I scooted forward on my towel for a better look and was not disappointed. The man was shirtless, his exertions as he hammered at the boat making the muscles in his back and shoulders bunch and flex. The sun reflected off his sweaty, brown hair, which the sun had kissed with streaks of gold. Suddenly, this interruption didn’t seem so unwelcome. I reached for the mimosa resting in the sand next to my towel, fully prepared to enjoy the show, when the man turned around to reach for a bottle of water perched precariously on the side of the boat. To my horror, the face that was revealed belonged to Holden St. James.
“Sutton!”
I jackknifed out of the covers at the shrill, insistent sound of Mama’s voice, my breath coming fast. “Wake up! We’re already running late!”
“I’m up!” I yelled, rubbing my hands over my face like I could scrub the memory of that dream out of my head.
“Well, praise be,” Mama responded, opening the door just wide enough to stick her head in. “Breakfast is getting cold. Come on down so we can talk about the day.”
“Are there pancakes?” Mama made the absolute best buttermilk pancakes on this planet, and probably the entire universe.
She nodded, smiling at me. “Is my baby girl home?”
I returned her smile despite still feeling frazzled and horrified by my dream. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Daylight’s a-wastin’,” she called out, already retreating down the hall.
I blinked, trying to let my brain catch up. I was in my childhood bedroom, not relaxing on the beach. I groaned thinking about the turn that dream had taken. It was just like Holden St. James to ruin a perfectly good dream.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I stood, stretched my arms above my head as far as I could, and let out a yawn. When we got back from dinner last night, I had gone upstairs, changed into my pajamas, slid under the covers, and called Maxine, knowing she would still be up. We’d proceeded to dissect dinner and her date while watchingThe Great British Bakeoffuntil the early hours of the morning. At the time, it had been exactly what I needed after a stressful day, but now I had some serious regrets. Whereas Maxine was at her best on a few hours of sleep, I required a full eight hours to be a functioning human.
“Who gets up early on a Saturday?” I muttered, shoving my feet into the bright yellow sunshine slippers Maxine had gotten me as a joke. “There better be bacon too.”
I made my way out of my room and down the stairs, the hushed voices of my parents getting louder the closer I came to the kitchen. Judging by the uses of my father’s full name, they were having a disagreement — one I was willing to interrupt for Mama’s pancakes. I stepped into the room and silence descended, both parents pausing in their movements to look at me as if my arrival were unexpected.
“Morning, Daddy,” I greeted him, shuffling to the table and dropping into an empty chair. “Mama, this looks and smells delicious. Thank you.”
