by Ellis, C. R.
A knock at the door sounded, and we both whipped around to look through the window.
“It’s me,” Sophia called, answering our unasked question. Helen quickly opened the door, and I realized why Sophia had knocked. A Siamese cat was purring and weaving around her legs. “We, uh, made a friend. Is she yours?”
“Muffin, how did you get out there?” Helen chastised, leaning down to pick the cat up.
“Muffin here followed us down the block. When she followed us up to the door we were hoping we weren’t about to have to turn her away,” Sophia explained.
“Yep. This butterball is ours. Thank you.”
We all walked back into the living room, and a quick nonverbal conversation with my sister confirmed that she was okay, or at least was ready to rejoin the conversation.
For the next couple hours, Sophia, Helen, and I talked about our lives—about our hobbies and jobs and even a couple stories from our childhood, though I steered clear of those once I realized how difficult they were for Helen to hear. I had more questions—like who my father was—but I couldn’t bring myself to ask any of them. Yet.
Eventually, Helen’s husband, Alvin, arrived and insisted we stay for dinner.
In addition to his badass cooking skills, Alvin seemed like a great guy. He was smart and funny and made sure to keep the conversation flowing. He took a genuine interest in Sophia and me, and even got Milo to give him some tips on mixing the perfect mojito.
By the time we finished dinner, I could tell Alvin and Helen were truly happy together, and that made me happy for them. As weird as it was to feel this at ease with my mother, I wasn’t questioning it.
Alvin and Milo disappeared to find more wine when Sophia tipped the first domino that would bring everything to a screeching halt.
“Okay, so wait a second. When you messaged me on Facebook, you said it was important that we speak right away. What was that about?”
“Ah!” Helen exclaimed, jumping up to grab her phone. “I told you that things fell apart with my ex-husband, and I wasn’t exaggerating. Our grief consumed us both in different ways. I blamed myself for what happened, and he…he blamed my parents. At the time, I wrote it off as his natural way of grieving; something he’d work through over time. But he only became more obsessive. When I told him I wanted a divorce, he fell apart completely. He swore he’d make things right."
Helen paused, and I mulled over her last statement. Make things right?
"I was trying to start my life over; I couldn’t let his issues be my issues anymore, so I didn’t give his rants much thought," Helen continued. "For a while, I thought he was moving on too. Then a couple months ago, when he found out I had remarried, he had some kind of breakdown. He left me a drunken voicemail swearing ‘they’d be sorry’ and would know his pain.”
"They?" I asked.
She scrolled through her phone and pulled up a photo before handing it to us. “My parents. After the divorce, I knew he was struggling, and that, in his mind, my parents were to blame for losing Michael and for our marriage collapsing. I had no idea he was so unstable. Before that voicemail, I’d just assumed his resentment stopped at my parents. But when he mentioned you two, I knew I had to warn you both. I didn’t want to believe he would try anything, but I couldn’t take that chance.”
We leaned in to get a closer look at her photo, and I nearly fell out of my chair when recognition dawned.
Slim build. Black hair with a handful of gray around the temples. Gray eyes.
I knew him.
The soon-to-be brand new owner of Serenity Hotel.
Greg Adams.
Chapter 24
Elliot
The next morning, I spent the entire two-hour flight home replaying every conversation and exchange I’d had with Greg, trying to figure out how I’d missed the signs.
It all made perfect sense now—how he just ‘happened’ to run into me that first day, why he wanted to know stories about my childhood the second time. All that bullshit about vetting people he did business with on a personal level.
He’d said all the right things. Exploited my vulnerabilities and preyed on my love for Serenity.
And it almost worked.
But I’ll be damned if I let him get away with this.
The car had barely come to a stop in Serenity’s parking lot before I was out and running toward the door.
“Elliot, you can’t go in there! Your grandparents are in a meeting with Mr. Adams,” called Nana’s assistant. I ignored her and shoved the door to the conference room open anyway.
My grandparents and their longtime attorney were seated across from Greg, and all four heads immediately swiveled my direction.
“Elliot? What’s going on?” Pops asked, pushing up from his chair.
“You can’t sell Serenity to him,” I blurted, adrenaline pumping through my veins.
“What are you talking about? Of course we can. We are selling to him.”
I shook my head and pulled out the photos Helen had given me. “You can’t. He’s Helen’s ex-husband, and he doesn’t want to keep Serenity intact—he wants to destroy it.”
“He’s who?”
“Is this true?” They exclaimed in unison.
“You’re too late, Ms. Kincaid,” Greg said, a smug smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “The deal’s already in motion.”
I looked to my grandparents, whose stunned, yet defeated expressions told me he wasn’t lying. Their lawyer’s face was drained of all color as she desperately flipped through the paperwork in her hands.
My heart took a swan dive, and I fought the urge to leap across the table and tackle Greg to the ground.
“Don’t do this. Hurting us won’t absolve your pain. You have to know that.”
Anger flared in his cloudy irises as he pushed his chair back and stood. “What I know is that I would be a father and a husband if not for these two,” he said, looking across the table. “Instead, I fucking buried my son and watched that loss destroy my wife. My marriage. I’m supposed to just stand by and watch while they retire and happily live out their lives like they didn’t rob me of everything I loved? I don’t think so. I knew it was a sign when I heard that Helen’s parents were planning to sell their beloved business. This pain inside me, it can’t be absolved. But that doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy seeing you all experience even a fraction of what I’ve suffered.”
Nana let out a sob and reached for Pops’ hands, heartbreak rippling through them both before my eyes.
“I’m so sorry. But you know this won’t change anything. Michael wouldn’t want you to do this,” I tried, swallowing down the lump in my throat summoned by my half-brother’s name.
“Don’t you dare say his name,” he hissed, pounding his fist on the table. “You have no goddamn right to say that, and you sure as hell have no idea what he would want.”
He stepped toward me, and I instinctively flinched. Pops moved in our direction, prepared to step between us.
But a voice behind me stopped both men in their tracks.
“But I do,” my mother called, stepping into everyone’s line of sight. “I know it’s not what our son would want, Greg.”
Just like that it was as if all the air had been sucked out of Greg’s body. The anger in his eyes morphed into liquid pain, like seeing Helen and hearing her words were both soothing and breaking him all at once.
“How can you say that? How can you defend them? They ruined our lives. They deserve to suffer. I thought you’d understand. That you’d want this.”
Helen took another step in Greg’s direction. “I do understand. I understand that you’re still hurting. That you’ll forever have scars on your heart like the ones on mine. But I’ll never want this. And it won’t lessen the pain.”
Greg stood and began pacing around the room.
“Could we, uh, have a moment in private?” Helen asked, looking from Nana and Pops to me.
We filed out of the conference room, and with one last l
ook of reassurance from Helen, I pulled the door closed behind me.
My grandparents looked utterly confused as we sat on the bench outside the conference room, so I quickly started a recap of the last twenty-four hours. By the time I finished explaining everything, their expressions had morphed into complete devastation.
“We had no idea,” Nana cried, close to tears.
Pops looked over at the conference room door and sighed. “She ought to hate us, and I can’t say I’d blame her.”
I shook my head. “She’s got a good life now. I don’t think she hates you.”
“What about you, Elliot?” Pops asked. “Do you hate us?”
“I could never hate you. I hate what happened, but I know that, given Helen’s abrupt departure, y’all had every reason to believe keeping me in the dark was the right move.” I turned to them and grabbed their hands in mine. “You guys raised me. You were the only parents I ever needed, and I want you to know how grateful I am for everything you sacrificed, for everything you’ve done for me to give me the best life possible. I love you both so much. Always.”
Their response was interrupted by the door flying open and Greg storming off without a word, though he looked less angry and more…conflicted.
Helen followed closely behind, coming to a stop in front of us. “I’m not sure how much good that did, but he said he’d think about it. I’m sorry I wasn’t more successful.”
Nana and Pops immediately stood and pulled her into a grateful, albeit somewhat stiff, embrace.
“We just appreciate that you tried.”
“So…what now?” I asked, shifting nervously.
To say this was awkward would’ve been a drastic understatement.
“Now, we wait. For the lawyers to find a way to stop it…or…” Nana trailed off, and we all understood her implication. Or for Greg to pull the plug. Or not pull the plug.
“Will you stay?” Pops asked Helen. “Or do you have to head out now?”
“My flight back to Denver isn’t until tomorrow.”
“Would…would you join us for dinner?” Nana asked.
Helen gave a small smile and nodded. “I’d like that.”
They all looked at me, and I swallowed the unexpected lump in my throat and nodded. “I’ll, uh, call Soph. We’ll be there.”
* * *
The waiter brought out a lemon raspberry cheesecake, and Sophia and I shared a look while our grandparents rearranged the table to accommodate our dessert. The dinner had gone shockingly well, with only a handful of awkward moments. But after an hour and a half of small talk about mostly superficial topics, tension crept in. We’d covered the basics and exhausted all conversation routes that didn’t delve too deeply or touch on our…unique family history.
My expectations for the evening had been low from the onset. I harbored no illusions that sharing a single meal would turn us into one big happy family. But it did lay the foundation for a potential path to healing. Whatever our version of healing would look like.
While Nana began cutting into the cake, Sophia leaned closer to me to whisper, “Is it just me or is it…”
“Weird because it’s not that weird?” I finished, giving her a nod. “Yep.”
Soph shrugged. “Guess we should be glad. I’m still in shock this is actually happening.”
I started to agree, but froze when I heard Pops talking about Bryce’s renovation plans for the inn.
I automatically pulled my phone out of my pocket, hoping to see his name on the screen. Instead, I had four new work emails and a text from Carleigh.
“Still haven’t heard back from him?” Sophia asked, interpreting my heavy sigh.
I just shook my head. After leaving Serenity that morning, I went on a mission to find Bryce, to do whatever it took to fix us, but a work emergency derailed my plans and kept me busy all day. So I settled for a text, asking if we could talk tonight.
“Maybe he’s busy and hasn’t checked his phone.”
“Maybe.”
By the time we finished our dessert, I could barely focus on the conversation around me. Bryce consumed my mind, and I couldn’t bring myself to care what happened in any other area of my life.
“Oh, shoot, I just remembered I have a study group thing, and I’m El’s ride,” Sophia said, checking her watch. “We better go or I’ll be late.”
“You do?” I asked, right as she kicked me under the table. “Oh, right.”
Sophia and I stood, searching for the right words to say to our mother. Nothing felt right.
She seemed to be struggling too, eventually offering us a tentative smile. “Girls…I’m so glad you came to Denver, though I wish it had been under better circumstances. It was really wonderful to see you both. To…get to know you,” she said awkwardly, twisting her hands together with uncertainty. “I wish I didn’t have to go back so soon.”
Without hesitating, I gripped her hands and returned her smile. “Thank you for coming. For everything, really.”
“Would it be okay…do you think…we could keep in touch?”
I leaned in and gave her a quick, slightly awkward hug. “I’d like that.”
Once we finished our goodbyes, Sophia and I spent the first few minutes of the ride in silence, digesting the last couple hours. When I realized she wasn’t going to our apartment, I gave her a side-eye.
“Okay, what’s with the abrupt departure? Your study group meets on Thursdays, and you just missed the turn for our place.”
Checking her rearview mirror, Sophia switched lanes and shrugged. “We’re getting a drink.”
It wasn’t like my sister to go out drinking during the week—or go out at all, really—but after the last forty-eight hours, I wasn’t about to question it.
Still, she was suspiciously quiet the rest of the drive.
Everything clicked when she pulled into the bar’s parking lot.
“Sophia,” I said, slowly turning toward her with a brow raised. “This is Sipology.”
“Yeah…didn’t you say they have a good happy hour? I’m in the mood for a martini.”
“I also said this is the bar Bryce always goes to…”
She smiled coyly. “Oh, is it? Totally forgot that part.”
“Liar.”
“That’s a funny way to pronounce ‘thank you,’ but okay.”
“God, you’re such a smart-ass sometimes.”
“You’re welcome!” she called, throwing her door open and hopping out. “Now stop stalling and go get your man.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice.
Chapter 25
Bryce
“Believe it or not, I didn’t come here to watch you eye-fuck your customers, Xander,” I snapped, cutting my cousin a glare over the rim of my beer glass. After seeing him hit on three women simultaneously, get their numbers, then disappear with two of them for twenty minutes, I was past the point of regretting my decision to come to Sipology.
“Maybe you should. Watch, I mean. You might learn something,” he countered with a smirk.
“Like what? The art of being an asshole? No thanks.”
He shrugged, unaffected by the insult. “Suit yourself. Look, man, I get that you’re all hung up on Elliot and ‘it’s complicated,’ or whatever. But it’s not like y’all are together together. Who says you can’t have some uncomplicated fun in the meantime?”
“I change my mind, go back to eye-fucking every other chick you see. At least then you won't be saying shit that’s likely to get you punched.”
He held up his hands and wisely walked to the other side of the bar without another word.
After a few minutes alone with my beer, I thought about checking in with my neighbor, Mrs. Spector, who was babysitting for me, but decided against it. Peyton was already down for the night before I left, so chances were that was still the case.
Plus, I’d been avoiding my phone as much as possible for the last two days. I told myself giving Elliot space was the best move, for both our sakes, but
each hour that passed without seeing her tortured me.
Two shot glasses were pushed across the bar toward me, and I looked up to see Laci, Sipology’s only female bartender, give me a grin.
Before I could open my mouth, the smell of pickles assaulted my nostrils. “Laci, I didn’t order this,” I said, pushing the shot glasses back to her.
She nodded toward the opposite side of the bar. “I know. She did.”
I scanned the line of bodies along the bar, my eyes on the hunt for silky blonde hair and topaz-blue eyes. A mile-wide smile and a body carved straight from my wildest fantasies.
But my heart found her before my eyes could. It took control and drew me toward her before my brain even realized my feet were moving.
She abandoned her bar stool to meet me halfway and threw her arms around my neck before I could even get a word out. Her hug was crushing, like she was trying to meld our bodies together, but I didn’t mind. I breathed in the scent of her fruity shampoo and brushed my lips against the shell of her ear. “El, I’m so—”
The rest of my apology was lost, trapped between our lips. With my arms woven around the small of her back, I welcomed her kiss like I’d been waiting my whole life for it. A soft moan vibrated from her mouth into mine, and I had to pull back before I escalated our kiss to something that made Xander’s eye-fucking episodes look innocent.
“El, I’m sorr—”
“No, Bryce, I know it wasn’t your fault,” she said, cutting me off and shaking her head. “I’m the one who’s sorry. You weren’t the reason I didn’t meet Helen. She went to my grandparents herself.”
I frowned. “What? El, what happened?”
“I went to Denver with Sophia and Milo, and Helen explained what happened back then. Then Nana and Pops filled in the other gaps later. Bryce, I’m so sorry for not giving you a chance to explain.”
“Wait. You went to Denver?! Hang on, let’s…go somewhere…” I let my sentence hang, unwilling to have this conversation wedged between random Sipology customers.