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“Well, how did it go down?”
I explain the details. “…and they were supposed to be asleep, to boot. So the whole thing is really just a bunch of things that lined up to lead to a dangerous situation.”
“Plus, Abigail was there when it happened.”
I pause as a fraction of guilt is lifted. “You know something? I hadn’t thought of that.”
He shrugs. “Seems to me that everyone had a role in her accident. What I don’t understand is why you haven’t tried to straighten things out with Lily.”
“It feels like it’s been too long, you know? Like trying to scrape the mold off the cheese left in the back of the refrigerator. You know it’s past its time and trying will only make things worse.”
He smirks. “That was a hell of a line of bullshit. What’s the real reason?”
I don’t want to say it, because it feels like she found something better to do with her life. “Because she took a fabulous new job in Manhattan. She’s moving back to the city, and there’s nothing I can do to stop her. And Abigail hates her, which won’t help anything. Not to mention the fact our resort could put her parents’ B&B out of business, so they hate me. It’s probably for the best that we stay apart.”
“That’s a line of bullshit you sound like you believe, and that’s a pity, Cormac.”
I frown. “It’s not bullshit, Beau.”
He stands. “I have to go. Meetings to have and all that. Think outside the box and call Lily and fix this. You love her.”
I glare up at him. “Call Elsie and try not to sleep with her.”
He huffs a laugh. “You’re only this defensive when you think you can’t get what you want, which means I’m right. Take a chance, Cormac.” He shuts the door behind himself.
I hate Beau knows me so well.
-
36
Cormac
Saturday afternoon, and I’m home with the kids. For some reason, I keep expecting to see Lily peek out from the kitchen with snacks she made for them. It’s stupid, really. As much as Beau was right about me, I couldn’t make myself call her. Or text her. There is little worse than feeling like a pest, and I’d feel like an intruder or an instigator if I bother her now. Neither barging my way into her life when I’m not wanted, or restarting something everyone else doesn’t want, has any appeal whatsoever.
This just sucks, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I hate this feeling.
“Here,” Aiden says, handing me a drawing.
It’s not bad, but it’s confusing. “Are those…mice?”
He huffs. “Elephants. Franny said it’s good.”
“Itisgood,” she insists. “But if you don’t have something with them to show how big they are, it’s hard to tell if it’s mice or elephants. Mom says it’s suspective.”
“Perspective, sweetie.”
“Like I said.”
But Aiden crumples it up. “Doesn’t matter. It’s ruined.”
I snatch it away and straighten it out. “It’s not ruined yet. Why don’t you add some trees that are the same size as the elephants?”
“Okay.” He lays back down on the living room floor, set on adding the trees.
Franny passes him the brown crayon, then looks up at me. “Daddy?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
