“You hooked up with Amy last night? Is that why she canceled her yoga class this morning? Too sore? I assumed she was hungover, but I guess not.”
“She’s already been down to the inn? Shit.” If Amy cancelled her yoga class, she had to have talked to her cousin. Sam was too late.
“I knew it. All that talk of ‘I only want Cara,’ and ‘Oh, I’m reformed. I’m a nice guy now.’ I knew it.” Sato’s continued laughter started to get annoying.
“Don’t gloat. It was an accident,” Sam insisted, but that only made Sato laugh harder.
“An accident, right. What, did you trip and fall into her? Man, you messed up,” Sato told him.
Sam did mess up. He was fully aware of that. His only excuse was that he couldn’t see well, but he suspected Cara wouldn’t buy it. “Nothing much happened, we just made out a little. And honestly, I didn’t know it was her.”
“What, did you think she was Cara? Yeah, you should tell Cara that even after all these years you can’t tell her and her cousin apart. Women love to hear those kinds of things.”
“It was dark. I didn’t have my glasses!”
“They don’t sound alike either.”
“She was whispering! Fuck, what am I going to do?”
“Well, for one thing, be more observant. For another, keep me posted on the situation. Margaux’s gonna love this twist.”
“That’s not helpful. Quit acting like you’re enjoying this! I’m going to go find Amy and do some damage control.”
He left the kitchen in a hurry, cut through the dining room, and stopped in the doorway. Damn it! He should have talked to Cara before breakfast. He should have told those stupid bird watchers to cook their own damn omelets. There were a thousand things he should have done, but he was too late. Amy was at the reception desk, and, though he couldn’t see Cara’s face, he could tell by her posture that she was not happy. Damn it, Amy.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
“You didn’t make it home last night,” Cara commented when Amy came into the lobby.
“I’m canceling yoga. People can stretch without me.” Amy removed the sign from the desk. “Oh, looks like nobody signed up anyway. This must be my lucky day.” She collapsed on the floor behind the reception desk.
“What’s wrong with you? This is not your usual hangover behavior.” Her cousin preferred to exercise hangovers away, something Cara could never understand.
“You want to hear about my night? I found out that Fabio is cheating on me. We broke up, so I went and hooked up with Sam. Petty revenge, I guess.”
“That’s a joke, right?” Amy didn’t look like she was lying, but how could that be true?
“I wish. Can you believe it? I mean I know long distance relationships are tough, but I’d rather he dumped me than cheat on me. Fucking asshole.”
“I meant the other part.” Cara must have heard wrong. She and Sam were meeting to talk later, a talk she’d deliberately scheduled for a time when her cousin couldn’t interrupt them. He wouldn’t have hooked up with Amy last night, would he? After the way he looked at Cara, the way he’d been flirting, the way he’d opened up to her? No, it couldn’t have happened.
“What, Sam? Yeah, you know me. I like to burn bridges and I wanted to make myself feel better. I thought about Matteo, but I didn’t want to go all the way into town and deal with his stupid dogs. It wasn’t a big deal. Although Sam did tell me he was in love with me. Can you believe he pulled out such a lame line?”
“No. No, I can’t.” Amy’s words stabbed her in the heart.
“It was kinda funny actually. I mean, obviously he didn’t mean it. I guarantee a guy like Sam says the same thing to every girl he manages to get in his bed. It’s part of his charm.” She deepened her voice. “‘Oh baby, I love you, I want you, I need you.’ Then the next day it’s all, ‘Oh baby, you gotta go before my roommate wakes up. I’ll call you, I promise. Oh wait, I can’t. I’m not allowed to use the phone.’ C’mon, you know his type.”
“I guess I just thought he was different.” Cara replayed every interaction she ever had with Sam in her mind. All this time she thought they were growing closer. All this time she thought they were building a strong bond, and maybe she meant something to him. Obviously, she didn’t. Amy was right all along. He only wanted one thing and he’d take that wherever he could get it.
“Players gonna play, right? But I don’t want to talk about that, I’m embarrassed. Why do I do such stupid things? And what the hell happened with Fabio? I thought we were soulmates.” Amy leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Tears ran down her face, and Cara was torn between the desire to comfort her and the desire to punch her.
“Cara, what am I going to do? I went to call him and tell him that I wasn’t going to wait around for an invitation any longer. I was coming to Italy so we can be together, and he was out cheating. I can’t even scream at him or slap him or anything. He’s gone.” Amy began sobbing, great heart-wrenching sobs, and Cara forced herself to put aside her own feelings. Her best friend needed her.
“Stand up, Amy,” She pulled her cousin to her feet and hugged her tightly. “I’ll help you come up with revenge on Fabio later. For now, go back to bed, curl up, and I’ll have Sato run down and pick you up some chocolate cake. Okay?”
Amy tearfully nodded and left. Cara watched her go, then turned around to see Sam watching them from the dining room door. Their eyes met, and she shook her head and turned away. He was the last person she wanted to talk to right now. He’d betrayed her trust. He’d tricked her. Or maybe it was her fault. She had read him wrong, just as she had read Phil wrong.
Maybe she should thank her cousin for showing her the truth.
Chapter Seventy
Email from Amy O’Connell to Fabio Basile:
Really? That’s what you choose to focus on? Really? Please, tell me more about American women. I’d love to hear it. Jackass.
Email from Amy O’Connell to Fabio Basile:
You’ve never done anything spontaneous in your life, but let me quote you from our last Skype: “I’m about to do something daring and reckless.” And you were with a crowd of women. And I saw one of them wrap a very lovely arm around you and pour a shot into your mouth. And it couldn’t have been later than what, 9:00 a.m. for you? So don’t pull this holier-than-thou crap. You want to do something daring and reckless? Well, have fun. But you can’t stop me from doing the same.
Email from Amy O’Connell to Fabio Basile:
“You weren’t supposed to see that.” Seriously, that’s your explanation? Oh, ok then. I guess I’ll just forget about it. Please, have a fabulous time day-drinking with a bunch of drunk girls. Sounds lovely. I’ll just pretend I’m blind. Or maybe, when you’re out cheating on me, DON’T ANSWER YOUR PHONE! This is on you.
Email from Amy O’Connell to Fabio Basile:
Fine. If that’s the way you want to end things, fine. Have a great amazing life without me. I’m sure it will be wonderful. I’m sure you’ll get everything you deserve.
Chapter Seventy-One
“You need to help me kill Tyrell,” Amy muttered.
Cara looked up from her plate. “He just brought us food. I think we should keep him a bit longer.”
“But he also just walked through the lobby whistling. How dare he be in a good mood when my life sucks? If you won’t let me kill him, can we at least punish him?”
“Maybe.” Cara thought about it. Not about actually punishing Tyrell, obviously. He didn’t even know anything was wrong. But the O’Connell cousins needed to do something to change things up. They had both lost something—Cara, the hope for a relationship, and Amy an actual relationship. “I have an idea. I’ll give you tomorrow night off. Paddy will cover for you, if we tell him about Fabio. We can go to the mainland. Find a club or something?”
“Or go see a movie? I think I’ve had too much to drink lately. That would be fun.” Amy smiled wanly. Her eyes were still red. Cara knew she’d been sneaking to the bathr
oom to cry on and off all day.
“And we’ll try a new restaurant. What’s the opposite of Italian? You need the least Italian evening possible.”
“Brazilian, I think. Or at least, that’s what a certain soccer fan I used to like would say. But we’re not going to find a Brazilian restaurant in this part of Minnesota, or even a Brazilian man.”
“We could road trip to Duluth, find a Brazilian stripper and sleep in the inn’s van,” Cara suggested. They had done two of those three things in the past. “Let me check with Paddy and make sure he’ll cover the desk.” She knocked on Paddy’s office door, but although she knew he was in there, he didn’t answer.
“He’s probably on the phone,” Amy shrugged. “Wait till he comes out. Meanwhile, I’m going online and finding us the best male strip club in Duluth.”
Cara laughed. “That’s probably the first time that sentence has ever been uttered. Make sure it has a safe parking lot for the van so we can get wasted.”
A few minutes later, the door to the office opened and Paddy came out, but he didn’t acknowledge Cara’s greeting. He walked past them into the lobby where he stood staring at the empty fireplace.
“That’s weird,” Amy said.
When Paddy turned back toward the desk, Cara noticed something different about his face. One side was sagging, as if he was a slowly melting wax version of himself. “Uncle Paddy, are you okay?”
He appeared confused. “Cynthia? What are you doing here?” His voice came out slow and slurred.
“Is he drunk?” Amy whispered, but then Paddy’s leg seemed to give out and he slowly toppled over sideways. “What the hell?”
Cara rushed to her uncle’s side while Amy grabbed the radio and called Tyrell to come assist immediately.
“I think he’s having a stroke,” Cara called out. She and Amy had attended numerous first aid trainings, and she recognized the signs. Paddy was a little young for it, but that was what killed his father in his early sixties. “Amy, check the dining room, see if Dina is working tonight.” One of the local EMTs moonlighted as a waitress, and fortunately, she was there.
After a quick assessment, Dina confirmed their suspicions. “Cara, you’re right. It’s probably a stroke. We need to get him to a hospital immediately. Time is the most important thing here.”
“What should we do? Does he need a helicopter evacuation?” Amy had a look of fear on her face that Cara was sure she matched.
“Actually, it’ll be faster if you can take him in a speedboat. I can call ahead and have an ambulance waiting at the mainland docks. I’ll notify the hospital too, so they can get him a CT scan immediately.”
Chapter Seventy-Two
Sam missed all the drama, since it occurred during the middle of the dinner service. At some point, he noticed one of his waitresses had skipped out, but it was near the end of the season and their six thirty seating wasn’t busy anyway. He assumed she had gotten sick or something and handed off her tables. He planned to have a private word with her later about checking with him first.
After he sent the last plate out, Amy walked in with a serious expression on her face. “Leftover dessert?” he offered, but she shook her head.
“I just wanted to update y’all,” she gestured for the kitchen staff to gather around. “I heard from Cara. They made it to the hospital. Dina was right. It was a stroke. We’re super lucky she was here. She said time is of the essence in stroke treatment.”
His stomach dropped. “Wait, Cara had a stroke?”
Amy responded with a glare. “Sam, what is wrong with your brain? Paddy did. He collapsed right out there in front of your dining room doors. We pulled your waitress to treat him and take him in. How do you not know about that?”
The truth was he had been too caught up in his own thoughts to notice anything going on around him. Although he normally maintained a tight focus while working, on this particular evening he had been distracted by how he would deal with the fallout from last night’s disaster, so much so that he wasn’t paying attention to anything else.
He turned to his line cook and told him to supervise the rest of the cleanup. “Which hospital? I’m going to help.”
“Ummm . . . you know you aren’t a doctor, right Sammy? There’s nothing you can do, and anyway, you know the ferry schedule. There are no more runs to the mainland tonight. Finish what you’re doing here. Cara’s taking care of Paddy, and I’m sure she has it under control.”
“I’m not going for Paddy. I’m going for Cara. Someone needs to take care of her.”
“And you think you’re the right person for that job? I’m doing it. That’s why I’m staying here running this damn place. I’m taking care of her by doing everything so she doesn’t have to worry.”
“Technically, isn’t this your shift anyway?” he asked, and immediately regretted it.
“This is not the time to argue with me, Sammy,” she told him in a dangerously angry voice.
Amy was not someone he liked to cross, but for Cara’s sake, he would.
“I’m not arguing with you, I’m ignoring you. You may be in charge of the inn, but you’re in my kitchen, and I make the decisions here. I’m going, and you can’t stop me. Francisco, the kitchen’s yours.” Sam hurried out before Amy could say anything.
Amy had been right about the ferry though, so Sam grabbed the staff phone, desperate to find a ride across the lake. Tim couldn’t leave the bar, Sato didn’t pick up, and he was getting really frustrated. He made one last call.
“Are you kidding man?” Matteo answered on the sixth ring, sounding annoyed. “I just got back from taking Cara and Paddy over there. You’re gonna have to refuel my boat. But yeah, fine, I’ll do it. Meet me at my launch.”
Chapter Seventy-Three
The nursing station gave Sam the room number, and he raced down the hall. He stopped in the doorway to take in the scene—he hadn’t quite come up with what he needed to say yet. There was Paddy on the bed, pale and hooked up to several machines and IVs, either asleep or unconscious. Cara sat in a chair next to him, with her head in her hands, her hair curtained around her face. She looked up when he said her name.
“What are you doing here?” She sounded weary, and she wouldn’t make eye contact. Still angry, probably. He silently cursed Amy.
“I came to help you.”
“Sam, you’re the last person I need help from right now. Go away.” She covered her face with her hands again, so he crossed the room and knelt on the floor in front of her.
“Look at me, please, Cara. I’m begging you.”
She did, and her expression did not give him hope.
“Cara, I’m sorry, about everything.”
The pain in her eyes was so heartbreaking, he couldn’t say anything else. He just reached out, wrapped his arms around her waist, and hugged her. After a moment, her arms came around him too and he felt her start to cry. He held her tightly and let her tears flow.
When she stopped and pulled away, her eyes were red, but her expression had become stoic. “It’s time for you to go, Sam. There’s nothing you can do here. Paddy is going to be okay.”
“I’m not here for Paddy. I’m here for you.” He reached towards her face slowly, touching her cheek, her hair. He wanted to kiss her, kiss her softly and finally tell her how he felt, but she pushed his hand away.
“Sam, stop it! I don’t need you in my life. Amy is my best friend. We talk. I know about last night. I know what you said to her. I know what you guys did. If it hadn’t already been perfectly clear that you and I are always and forever just friends, you telling Amy that you’re in love with her clinched it. You’re an opportunist, Sam. Please, please just go home.”
“No, Cara, you don’t get it. Everything I said to Amy I said because I thought she was you.”
“Do you think I’m stupid? You’ve known us for years. We don’t look that alike, Sam.”
“You do in the dark when I don’t have glasses on and she used your shampoo.”
> “My shampoo?”
“You always smell like strawberries, she smells like citrus. But she came into my bed smelling like you and whispering and . . . damn it Cara, everything I said to her was meant for you.” He paused, took a deep breath, then plunged ahead with it. It was time to be truthful. “Please listen to me. I am so in love with you, and I have been for years. I came back here for you, only for you. All fucking summer you’ve been breaking my heart, and now it’s almost over and I’ve really screwed things up. I’ve been working up the nerve to tell you how I feel, but I’m running out of time and it seems like every time I thought we were getting close, something happened, and I’m tired of being interrupted. I want you Cara, I . . .”
But he was interrupted again. She stopped him with a kiss, and it was everything he had wanted it to be. He rose up, pulled her body to him, tangled one hand in her hair and pressed the other into the small of her back. The kiss went on forever and fire ran through his veins, and he knew there was nothing he wanted more than this moment . . .
. . . and then Paddy coughed politely, bringing them both back down.
Chapter Seventy-Four
Cara looked down at Sam’s hand entwined in hers. Paddy had shooed them out of his room so they could talk privately. There was nowhere to go in the hospital, but they found a bench outside that was at least far enough from the building that the lights were dimmer and they could speak without being overheard. Cara sat sideways across his lap, holding his hand and tracing the scars.
“Burns, all of them. I didn’t used to be very good with ovens,” he explained.
She laughed. His other hand, running up and down her back, sent shivers of excitement through her. “You spent most of the summer saying you wanted to be friends,” she told him. “How was I to know you wanted anything different?”
That Last Summer (Whispering Pines Island Book 1) Page 27