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I want a life with him. I don’t know what that looks like, but I want it.
“It was more than having the winning bid. That explanation is too simple for such a complex issue, Sophie,” she scolds. “They basically pitted the whole town against the turbine plan. We could have gotten more funding, more investors, if they hadn’t poisoned people against us.”
“What evidence do you have that they badmouthed you or the turbines?” I should stop now. There’s no way to win an argument like this. There’s almost no chance this conversation will come to any sort of resolution at all. We’ll just drop it and pick it up again another time.
“Really? You have to ask that?” Grandma starts to laugh in her breathy way. It’s a sound I rarely hear. “It was all over town.” She pauses. “That’s beside the point, though. The fact is, it’s humiliating for us that our granddaughter is working for a family whose actions have cost us a great deal in lost revenue, and a great deal of community respect.”
Great. How’s she going to feel when she learns their granddaughter is a lot more than just a freelance consultant for Oliver Tate?
***
I text Oliver later on, while lounging on the sofa, using Wilford as my personal heater. I don’t mention the convo with my grandma because I’m still hoping it’s just part of their favorite hobby, hating all things Tate, and that eventually, they’ll find a new thing to occupy their time. I do mention Miranda, though, because I just can’t not.
Me:How did things end up with the real estate agent last night?
Oliver:I didn’t meet with her last night, but we had a couple of video chats with some prospective sellers today.
Me:And? Is your dream closer to becoming a reality?Please say no. Please say no.
Oliver:Hard to say. I felt like I was being interviewed to be the people’s nanny, personal shopper, and fiancé all rolled into one. They’re not interested in handing their homes over to just anyone, that’s for sure.
What do I say? “I see?” “So, you’re really going for it?” “You weren’t being honest with me when you said it wasn’t your dream anymore?”
But I can’t do that. I can’t ask him to give this up. He would need to come to that conclusion himself.
Me:Sounds so cool, though! I hope it all works out for you!
There. Isn’t that what friends do? They support each other, even when the other person’s dream kills their own.
I wait so long to get a text back from him that I almost fall asleep on Wilford’s back.
Finally this: Oliver:Thanks. We’ll see. But like I said last night, I don’t really want to buy a house in Capri anymore, except maybe as an investment.
I don’t know what to say.
Me:Well, either way, I hope you get what truly makes you happy.I swallow hard. A swirl of confusion is coating my tongue.
Oliver:Thanks, Soph. I hope that for you, as well.
I think we’re both holding back. What I really want to text him is: Oliver, I love you. But instead, I write:Wilford is doing a potty dance. If I don’t take him out, I’ll have a puddle on my floor. Goodnight, Oliver.
I don’t even check to see if he writes back. I can’t.
Chapter 25
Oliver
I’m a grade-A coward. At least that’s what Alec is telling me through the phone.
I’ve just stepped off the plane at Heathrow, and I’m exhausted, starving, and all things not pleasant. I can’t shake the crankiness that has threatened me ever since Miranda showed up at the resort two nights ago.
I’m on the cusp of some huge changes in my life, and my old ways and my newfound purposes are at odds.
What did I do to work through that? I took a quick jaunt to London to clear my head. Our London location is a posh, smaller resort on the outskirts of the city, with that old-world, British vibe and a great view of the skyline.
Sebastian said to go, so I did. No big whoop.
Except, I didn’t even tell Sophie anything about it.
