by Lush, Tamara
Max turns and kisses my temple. His lips linger on my skin.
“Well, that was an interesting conversation. You’re staying on Paradise?” he murmurs in my ear.
I nod and grin. “Sorry, I kind of blurted it out.”
“You used the word we.” His eyes flicker over my face, and I swear his expression is incredulous.
“I did.”
Cara and Jonathan let out loud awwwws. Jonathan’s wife proclaims dinner’s ready, and we should all move to the terrace.
It leaves me no time to gauge Max’s reaction to my random, impromptu statement. I publicly proclaimed us a couple. With a future. To his oldest friends.
And we haven’t even exchanged I-love-yous. The closest we’ve gotten to that are panting declarations of lust while naked.
For the rest of the night, I’m forced to laugh and joke, all while wondering if I’ve screwed up. My heart pounds uncomfortably as we eat and chat. Maybe Max only wants me for sex. Maybe this is a temporary, extremely pleasant, fling. Maybe I’ve misread the entire situation.
Have I made assumptions about Max’s feelings and jeopardized everything?
Hours later, we’re saying goodbye to everyone in the driveway, standing side-by-side. The few guests left filter indoors, and we walk the few steps to the car. He slides his arm around my waist and kisses my temple. I look up at him, and he meets my gaze with the most endearing smile in history.
“You’re staying.” He says it as a statement. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
I stand on my tiptoes and brush my lips over his. My insides turn into melted chocolate as he cups my neck.
Twenty
Max
I might be thirty-five, the owner of a multimillion dollar business, and the broker of some of the biggest hotel property listings in the world.
But I’m not gonna lie: sitting across from my old man at the kitchen table while talking business makes me sweat.
“What makes you two think you can run this place?” Dad growls.
Dad might have single-handedly gone from being a singer in an ‘80s punk rock band to the owner of a once-successful island resort, but he’s now behind the times. Before we closed for the renovation, the place was threadbare, tired, and musty. Bookings were down. Mom and Dad tapped into their retirement savings to make payroll.
“You know, that’s the trouble with you,” I fume, annoyed at our breakfast conversation about the resort’s future that’s practically turned into hand-to-hand combat. “You built this yourself, and yeah, you get credit for that. But your opinion isn’t the only correct one. You’re not always right.”
Somehow, Natalia is a lot more composed than I am and rests her hand on my forearm. This is her gentle signal telling me to shut the hell up.
“I’ve been helping run the resort since I was seventeen. And even if Max hasn’t been here for the day-to-day stuff, he’s a great businessman. You paid enough for that MBA of his, didn’t you?” Natalia smiles.
“Sure as shit did,” Dad grumbles.
“Angus,” Mom interjects, staring hard at Dad, “Why don’t we let them try? It can’t be any worse. We’ve overspent on the renovations. Let’s not dip any more into our retirement.”
I blow out a sigh of relief. Now that Mom’s on board, things should move quickly. She’s the only one Dad ever listens to, and frankly, I don’t know why she didn’t step in before now. Probably because she loves this place more than he does—largely due to nostalgia. It’s where she and Dad stayed the weekend they met.
Back then the resort was run-down, too. But Mom and Dad lovingly restored it. Then the place slipped into disrepair again. That’s the cyclical nature of family-owned hotels, I’ve noticed.
Dad smirks at me and rubs his bicep, where a faded Black Flag tattoo peeks out from under his T-shirt sleeve. For an old guy, he’s still pretty muscular. His rebellious nature and punk rock ethos oddly served him well in business; I wish he wasn’t so combative with his own children. While raising us he probably thought it toughened us up, and maybe he was onto something.
“I get it,” I say, bitterness thick in my tone. “You and Mom relied on me, and I failed.”
“You were so sure you could sell it.” Dad’s voice is almost accusatory, and a hot poker of shame jabs into my gut. He’s always been hard on the five of us. Tougher, I think, on Damien and me.
Shaking my head, I swear out loud, and Nat rolls her eyes.
“When I came here, all I wanted was to make you proud, you know that?” I’m almost shouting now. “To sell the resort for millions and let you and Mom live in luxury after working your asses off. And I let you down.”
“It’s not a great market right now; don’t beat yourself up,” Nat says quietly. She’s a peacemaker, like Mom.
“Max, you tried.” Mom’s two dozen silver bracelets on her right arm jangle as she pours more coffee for Dad. “And you have nothing to be apologetic for. We’re going to face this as a family, like we always have.”
Dad shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. I swear he’s spent the past forty years existing on strong, black coffee. “We’ve got two options. We can keep going with the renovations and keep running the resort my way. But truthfully, my way is bleeding cash, and I don’t want to be ten years older and penniless. Your mother doesn’t like eating cat food.” His grim joke makes us all chuckle. Dad inhales and reaches for Mom’s hand. “Or I can step aside and let you two handle it.”
“Please, Dad? I think Max and I can make a profit, especially with the new renovations. We’d build on what you and Mom did.” Nat scoops her long hair into her hands and twists it into a knot. Today she’s a platinum blonde, and it’s a huge improvement on the blue she sported at the wedding.
Dad nods slowly. “Okay. Okay. I’ll let nearly forty years of my life go. For now. Doesn’t mean I won’t be around if you need anything.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “If I’m going to take out a second mortgage on my New York condo to float this resort, you’re going to have to agree to let us make the decisions. I can’t have you swooping in and second guessing us.”
“You’ll see, Dad. We’re going to make it the best resort in all of Florida,” Nat squeals. She, Tate, and Remy have always been able to ignore Dad’s bluster. Damien and I were the ones to take it to heart, and it’s probably why we both got the hell out.
Dad fixes me with a glare. Goddamn is he stubborn. “It’s all yours.”
As I extend my hand across the table and shake his hand, a lightness settles in my chest.
I’m coming home to Paradise Beach.
We drink our coffee in a thick silence. My mind spins with all the possibilities, all the things Nat and I need to do. First off, though, I need to call my New York office and tell them I’m not coming back for a while. Maybe a year. So much shit to arrange.
Mom pours my dad another cup, and her gaze lands on me.
“How’s that nice girl from the wedding? Remy mentioned you’ve been spending a lot of time with her.”
“Guess a man’s got no secrets here on Paradise Beach,” I mumble.
Natalia giggles and rises from the table. “I know where this conversation’s headed, so I’m going back to the resort.”
“I’ll see you shortly,” I say.
“Be glad your mother only hassles your brothers about getting married and not you,” Dad grouses good-naturedly.
“Well, that’s true,” Nat says brightly, sliding an arm around Dad and kissing his cheek. “But only because you don’t want your little girl getting married.”
“Goddamn right,” he says. “You’re not even allowed to date till you’re forty.”
Nat lets out a snort-laugh that echoes and bounces off the kitchen cabinets. If anything, Nat’s the least romantic of us all, has been ever since a guy from high school broke her heart. We don’t talk about him, ever. And if he ever sets foot on Paradise Beach again, I think Dad might kill him with his bare hands. If Tate doesn’t first.
When she leaves, Mom slides into a seat next to Dad, her eyes twinkling. Dad looks like he always does: vaguely sour, a little cynical. On the verge of laughter.
Jesus, take the wheel. This conversation is headed in one direction: when I’m going to settle down.
“Her name’s Lauren,” I say.
“I know.” Mom looks positively gleeful. Even Dad’s allowing himself a little grin, which is rare.
“She’s decided to stay here on the island for a while. Told me the other night.”
“I see,” says Mom.
“Her ankle’s healing nicely.”
“Poor thing. I felt so bad for her, but she was really a good sport about the scooter. You two almost looked happier than the bride and groom at the wedding.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s because my donkey-head brother insisted on falling in love before flying off to a war zone. How could he be anything but miserable at his own wedding?”
Dad clears his throat and rises from the table. “I’d love to stay here and gossip during your quilting bee, but I gotta take the truck in today for an oil change.”
“Thanks, Dad, for being in touch with your feelings.”
Mom continues to smile at me, studying my every move as I drink my coffee, as Dad wanders out, guffawing.
“That’s a first for him, not doing his own oil change,” I say.
“Your father’s always been a work in progress, dear.”
I chuckle.
“Let’s get back to the topic of Lauren.”
My shoulder lifts toward my left ear. “I think we might have a future.”
Mom is full-on beaming now, and I hold up my hand.
“Don’t anticipate a repeat of Damien’s shotgun wedding. No need to order the flowers yet. I don’t know why it had to happen so fast with him. But Lauren and I are taking things slow. Well, slow-ish.”
“What does she do for a living? Can she do it here on Paradise? I didn’t quite understand when she and Kate talked about it.”
I wave my hand in the air. “She’s a social media star.”
She blinks, and I can tell she’s confused. That’s been part of the problem with the resort—that Mom and Dad don’t see how essential social media is for our brand. Not like I know anything about it, either, but Natalia does.
And that’s when a jolt of awareness hits my brain.
Lauren.
I snap my fingers and point at Mom. “You gave me an amazing idea. Maybe she can help us with the resort. Do social media for us. Or something. We’re going to need a multi-faceted marketing plan. Lauren would know about those things. She’ll be perfect. We’ll be a team. I need to pick her brain about algorithms and hashtags.”
Mom ignores my flash of brilliance. “Why don’t you bring Lauren over for dinner? Perhaps next week. I’d like to get to know her better. Remy will be back.”
“Where’s Remy going? And when’s he coming back?”
“He’s doing a canoe trip in the Everglades with some friends. He’ll be back in a few days.”
That’s Remy, always doing something outdoorsy. Hopefully he’s not too deep in the Florida swamp to get texts, because we need to start planning Ma and Dad’s anniversary party next month. My mental to-do list is growing by the second, and I’m itching to return to the office so I can log everything into my laptop organizer.
“Yeah, I’d like her to get to know you two, but I want to keep it to the four of us for right now. I think the entire family is a little difficult to handle all at once, and she got enough of us at the wedding.”
“I spent time with her the night before the wedding. I thought she was delightful, Max.”
“She’s more than delightful.”
“Dear, I worry, though. I know she travels for her job. Are you sure you’re not going to get tangled up in another situation similar to Adriana?”
I clench my molars at the mention of my ex’s name. “There’s a huge difference between Adriana and Lauren. Adriana was a liar. Lauren isn’t. I don’t think Lauren could keep a secret if she tried.”
“If Lauren’s job takes her all over the world, how are you going to make something permanent with her? Especially if you’re traveling all over for your own work?”
I drum my fingers on the table. “Dunno. We haven’t gotten that far. Right now we’re taking it a few months at a time, and now that I’m staying, she will too. I think.” I pause, thinking about what she’d said the other night at the dinner party. We hadn’t talked about it in detail because we’d both been exhausted after staying at Jonathan’s house late and had fallen into bed. “I adore her. She makes me feel like I’ve hit the jackpot. And I do want to put down roots. It’s time, you know?”
“Don’t take too long to let her know how you feel, and don’t leave her wondering. Maybe if you’d expressed all your feelings early on, Adriana wouldn’t have—”
“Adriana had someone back in Australia. Expressing my feelings wouldn’t have changed the fact she kept a secret from me. Adriana blamed me for being a workaholic when she had her own issues. Lauren and Adriana have nothing in common. When I met Lauren…” My voice trails as I recall how she captivated me from the moment I saw her walk into the resort. How that connection turned into something electric when we started talking. And when we kissed for the first time? And the second time? And every time? Jesus. Like nothing I’ve ever felt for any other woman.
“When you met Lauren…?” Ma probes.
“I felt elated. Still feel elated. Focused. Needed. It’s powerful. With Adriana, it was…good. I didn’t feel that powerful pull like I do with Lauren. Probably because Adriana loved someone else but tried to pretend otherwise. Or maybe I ignored some of her needs because I was working too much.”
Ma blinks several times. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that part of your relationship with Adriana. I’m glad you didn’t become bitter.”
“I didn’t tell you because I was ashamed. You know me. I’m not the bitter type. You and Dad taught me to pick myself up and keep fighting.”
Ma smiles. “I’ll stop giving advice now. I love seeing how happy you are with Lauren. That’s all. The two of you seem perfect for each other.”
I reach for her hands and thread her fingers through mine. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let her get away.”
And after this conversation with Ma, I think I know exactly how to bring Lauren fully into my world.
Twenty-One
Lauren
My thumbs feel like icicles as I tap a text to my father.
I don’t know how long I’ll be in the States. Sorry. Not coming to Ohio. I broke my ankle and am not too mobile at the moment. Staying here in Florida with Kate.
A chill rolls through my body, and I shiver even though it’s a warm night. Darkness has fallen on the island, and I’m waiting for Max to pick me up. We’re having dinner at his parents’ house tonight, only the four of us.
Already my stomach is vibrating with anxiety. In my ten-year dating life, I’ve never gotten to the stage where I’ve met a guy’s mom and dad.
Tonight’s a massive step for us both, and all day, I’ve been in a state of lowkey panic. Sure, I got along with his mom during the impromptu party the night before Kate’s wedding. And his dad was pleasant at the reception.
But the four of us, chatting around the dinner table? It seems so…adult. Don’t get me wrong, I want a serious relationship with Max.
I hope I don’t screw up somehow—especially since Mrs. Hastings is seemingly telling everyone on the island about how Max will be the next one to get married.
Tonight I’m wearing a pink polo shirt and white denim skirt and realize I look extremely preppy. Especially with the white sneaker on my good foot. Max’s dad used to be in a punk rock band. Should I wear black?
Glancing at the building, I wonder if I have time to take the elevator and throw on a T-shirt instead before Max gets here.
I’d come downstairs to wait for him because I was sick of sitting. Th
at’s been the worst part of this whole ankle episode. I hate being static. I swear, when this cast comes off, I’m going to take up running.
My phone pings, and I groan out loud. Haltingly, I walk over to a bench near a palm tree and plop down.
I’m sorry to hear that, my dad texts back. As I’m deciding what to respond, another message from him makes my phone vibrate.
Any chance you could shoot us a little something? Things are tight this month, especially since your mother’s not working. She’s still having problems with her back, you know. I saw your blog from Italy and assumed those designers compensated you well for your coverage.
I swallow the lump of bile clawing its way up my throat. Christ, Dad. Why? Why can’t you put Mom in rehab? How can you let her keep doing this to you, I want to yell. But I don’t. My initial instinct is to shut the phone off and flee—to anywhere. Far from Mom and Dad and their situation.
Which is what I did more than a year ago. When I was living in Chicago with Kate, Dad hounded me daily for money. That’s when I went overseas. I ran. Out of anger and shame.
But there’s no fleeing now, because what I want is here on Paradise Beach. I’d told Max I wanted to stay. Told Kate, too. It’s time to sit with my discomfort and face reality.
I won’t be giving you any money, Dad. You and Mom need help and not the financial kind. I’m going to dinner, maybe we can talk in a phone call tomorrow and not text about something so important.
No more running.
I take a few deep breaths. This conversation with Dad is exactly what I didn’t need before going to eat dinner with the perfect and mentally stable Hastings family.
My phone chimes again.
Give it up, Dad. I roll my eyes.
But when I check the screen, I realize the texts aren’t from him.
They’re from Gio.
Tesoro, we’re having the most fabulous party at the Villa next week. I’d love for you to come. It’s sponsored by a new mineral water brand!