by Isabel Jolie
“Gabe came over,” I admitted. It wasn’t like I wasn’t going to tell her everything, anyway.
“Ah. How’s that going?”
“It’s not.” Her steps slowed. I stared straight ahead and plowed onward, maintaining our pace. “He’s leaving this afternoon to move back to New York.”
“Are you okay?”
My cheeks heated as a memory of last night surfaced. His body over mine, the feel of him inside me, the fullness. His repeated “love you, love you, love you” as he lost all reason. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel his strength and heat, the muscles flexing in his firm ass—
“Poppy?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. It was always going to be a temporary thing. I’m not meant for a big city. His legal team has advised him they need him back in New York. I’d bet he’s at a new firm before month’s end.”
“How was Hilton Head?”
I smiled at her, enormously grateful for the change in subject. “So good. Suzette rocks. She took me all around. We got some good ideas for what we want to do in our place here. Some good design ideas, too. You should have seen Suzette in action. She’d speak to the chef, and within minutes we’d be getting a guided tour of a kitchen and discussing restaurant layout and what was working and not working. Since we aren’t confined by existing parameters, I love that she pushed for us to do this research.”
“Are you breaking ground soon?”
“Technically, we’ve already broken ground. The lot’s been cleared. But our little celebration is happening next week.”
“How long do you think before you open?”
“Baird says six months, but I’d think nine is more realistic.”
“Probably smart. One thing I know from years of listening to my dad, construction projects rarely go on schedule. And there’s permitting, too. So, what are you going to do in the meantime?”
“Bartend at Jules. And…just because they’re building doesn’t mean I won’t have a ton to do for launch. If this goes well, we plan to open in other locations, so I need to pay close attention and learn as we go.”
“I’m so proud of you. You had a dream, and you’ve pursued it and made it happen. That’s pretty kick-ass.”
I let her words sink in. I’d always seen Luna as so successful because she was in grad school. My lack of college degree had always felt like a big hole, like I’d screwed up or failed in life. But I hadn’t. I’d simply followed a different path. A path that allowed me to create one business, sell it, and move on to another business.
Thanks to her sunglasses, Luna remained unaware my eyes got all glassy as a waterspout of emotion erupted. “So, the goal is three miles today, right? You got your magic watch set?”
She smiled. “Yeah, it’s tracking us. Did I tell you that Tate’s become friends with the head of police? Or I think they call it Public Safety here. He’s single. His name is Logan. Nice guy.”
I didn’t say a word. Just plugged forward, pumping my arms.
“Too soon?” she asked. I knew without a doubt if I slowed down she’d try and hug me or something. Didn’t want that, but I also didn’t want her worrying about me.
So, I forced a smile, and said, “Just a smidge.”
Later that day, I drove over to pick up Gabe and drive him to the dock. He planned to leave his boat in its slip at the marina on the island, and to take the ferry back to the mainland. As I turned the corner into his drive, he sat on the steps, forearms propped on his thighs, waiting. Freshly showered, he showed no sign he lacked sleep. Rather, an underlying energy buzzed—the energy of someone moving on to something new. Without a smile and barely a nod in greeting, he placed one suitcase, a carry-on, and his computer bag onto the cart.
“Is that it?”
“Yep. I never brought much.” Made sense. This was never a permanent move. All the toys he bought, like the surfboard and paddle board, would remain here for vacationers.
“Did you lock everything up? Take out the trash?”
“Shelley will send a crew by to clean up behind me.” Right. Of course. That’s how the rich do it.
“Well, you ready?”
He slid onto the seat beside me, and I pressed the pedal as he wove his fingers between mine. A low wave of emotion rolled in, and I choked it down.
“I didn’t like waking up this morning without you in bed.”
“Well, gonna have to get used to that.” I smiled a stupid smile and regretted my words when he studied me, probably searching for that emotion I squelched. “Sorry, bad joke. Luna and I had agreed to an early walk time. How’s your ankle?”
His jeans covered up his injuries from yesterday.
“It’s fine. My leg hair covers up the scabs. I look good as new.” His sexy smirk came out, and I focused on the road. I waved at a few people I recognized gathered outside on the lighthouse lawn. We came upon a slow cart, and the driver waved for me to pass. Instead of passing, I slowed down. We had time. We weren’t in a rush.
When we arrived at the marina, I pulled right up to the side, so he could easily unload his luggage. While he handed it off to the ferry personnel, I parked and met him over near the line for passengers.
“Sit with me for a bit?”
“Isn’t this your ferry?” I asked, puzzled because the proper process would be to queue up.
“I can get the next one.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. And, for him, it probably wasn’t. As a pilot, he planned to fly himself back, so he didn’t have to deal with the drudgery of a flight schedule like the rest of us.
He claimed the narrow wooden bench next to the ticket collector. I sat down beside him, and he wrapped his arm around me. I rested my face against his chest, below his neck, and breathed in his fresh soap scent. My arm wrapped around his waist. A few people standing in line watched us, probably because there wasn’t much else to look at. The ferry horn sounded, and everyone in line gathered their things, preparing to enter the departure deck.
“You know, you never took me for a ride in your plane.”
“Would you really go?”
“Well, yeah, it sounds fun. I mean, not the way Reed made it sound, but it seems like something that’s good to check off the list.”
“My mom has been promising to go ever since I got my license. She always seems to have a reason to not fly.”
“Oh?”
“Well, mainly she refuses to go with me and my dad. Says it’s too likely we’ll all go down together, and that would leave Lauren with no one.”
“Very considerate of her.”
“Yeah.” Gabe pressed his lips to the top of my head, and I felt it as a light pressure, but the gesture poured through me, warming me up from deep inside. “You’d really go with me?”
“Well, I would have.”
“You could go today. You could come up with me to New York. Can you take a few days? I could fly you back.”
“No, unlike you, what I do can’t be done virtually. And I have meetings to attend. We have photos we’re showing our designer and reviewing architectural drawings. I can’t…I need to be here. It’s too important. When do you plan on coming back?”
“I’m not sure. I have interviews scheduled on Friday.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. Dinner with one of the partners Thursday night. Full day of interviews on Friday.”
“Wow. Look at you. That’s amazing. No one knocks you down for long.” I sat up and patted his chest.
“I have connections.” He shrugged like it was nothing at all. I laid my head back down against him as the last of the two o’clock passengers boarded the ferry.
“Is the lawsuit gone?” I hadn’t fully understood his predicament, but it had stressed the hell out of him.
“No. But I have meetings tomorrow and Wednesday. I’m hopeful. Either it’ll go away pretty soon, or it’ll be one of those things hanging over my head for years to come.”
“That sounds awful. I hope that’s not the case.”
“You and me both. But w
e’ll see. I might have to pay some fines. My lawyers say prison is highly unlikely.”
“Well, why not go ahead and pay the fines and be done with it?”
“Because it doesn’t quite work like that. And I’m innocent.” The raw anger in his tone had me searching for a change of subject.
“Well, let me know if you want me to check in on your place or take care of it. My offer still stands.”
“Why don’t you move into it? It’s silly for you to be paying rent.”
“And, what, I’d be your kept woman, living in your place and available to you whenever you wanted?”
“Poppy.” He forced me off his chest and lifted my chin until my gaze met his. “It would never be like that. I get you want to do it on your own, but it’s okay to lean on others.”
“When you need to, yep. But I can afford my rent. Besides, there are memories of you everywhere in that house. I’d be sad every day.” Getting over him was going to be hard enough. Thank god I had the excitement of a new business to fill my time. With a gentle nudge, he returned me to my original position resting on his chest.
The rhythmic thumping of his heart settled me into a comfortable lull. An early passenger for the three p.m. ferry arrived. He dropped a heavy carry-on on the brick pavers, and it landed with a thud. The older man lifted a book with worn edges, opened it, and read. Eventually a family lined up behind him, and then a couple of Delphina’s servers. We waved to each other, and I ignored their curious stares.
“You gonna take this one?”
He let out a heavy sigh, but his arm remained solidly around me. “I suppose I should. I’d like to land before dusk.”
“I’ve heard it’s challenging to land at dusk.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“I think when I was reading about John Junior.”
“You weren’t even born then.”
“Yeah, but my mom subscribes to People magazine. She saves every issue.”
“Hhmm.”
“But whenever she remarries, she throws out her supply. She’s yet to meet and marry a man who agrees to move boxes and boxes of old magazines.”
“How many times did you say she’s been married?”
“Five times in total. My dad was number two.”
“Any of them you liked?”
“Not really. When all you care about is whether they’re willing to marry you and whether they can pay bills, well, there’s a wide spectrum of men out there who can meet those two criteria. I wish she’d expand on her required attributes.”
“Are you close to her?”
“Haven’t spoken to her in a couple of years.” She’d been mad when I didn’t make it home for her most recent wedding. Knowing the way news traveled around our small town, as soon as Ben figured out I was an OnlyFans girl, I’d expected the phone to ring. It hadn’t.
The ferry horn sounded, and I closed my eyes, attempting to memorize the feel of him against me. His heart thudded in his chest, against my ear, and his arm wrapped warmly around me. His protective hold and his strength, it was all perfect.
“Can I…when I come back…do you think we can still see each other?”
“Like, date?”
“Yeah. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
“I think we can be friends. I’d like to be friends. But whether we say goodbye now or weeks from now, it’s going to suck. Might as well do it now. Rip it off like a Band-Aid.”
He lifted me off his chest, and his thumb wiped below my eye. I hadn’t meant to cry. I sniffled, and he pressed a soft kiss on my cheek, then my nose, then my other cheek.
“I meant what I said last night.”
“You said a lot of stuff.” And a lot of it had been when we were joined. Heat of the moment kind of stuff.
He lifted my chin and forced me to look into his forest green eyes. “I do love you, Poppy. I meant it.”
My lips quivered, and I raised up, struggling to hold a waterfall of emotion in.
“Poppy, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. Because through my eyes, sure, you’re attractive. A knockout. But you’re so much more.” He brushed loose hair behind my ear. “You deserve the world. Never forget it.”
That did it. My big, fat mushy heart let out a torrential downpour of tears, and there was no way I could squelch it or stop it or do any of the things to keep it together like a normal human being. I stood, pressed my lips to his fast and quick, and ran.
One long boardwalk stretched from the parking lot, along the side of the harbor, out to the Cape Fear River. I clopped my way down to the very end and climbed up on the railing, right next to a sign telling me not to sit on the railing. A woman and her young child stood nearby. The mother saw my disaster of a face and tugged on her child’s hand to move farther away, giving me space.
The ferry passed through the channel, and I stuck my arm high into the air, waving like a lunatic, with buckets of tears to match. Gabe stood on the top deck, leaning against the metal railing. He held out his phone. It took me a minute, but I recognized the movement. He snapped pictures. A memory catcher. I plastered on a smile and waved my arm back and forth until the muscles ached and the ferry disappeared across the inlet.
Chapter 29
Gabe
* * *
“Scott, I can’t tell you how much it means to me you’re giving me this chance.” I looked him square in the eye. He twirled his remaining scotch in the glass and settled back into his chair, signifying the interview component of our lunch had ended, and we were back to family friends.
“Happy to do so. I know how much you’ve always meant to Caroline. And as you know, my daughter is my everything.” His tone brought back memories of his firm greeting when I’d picked up Caroline for a random debutante event back when we were in school.
“Yes, sir. As she should be. She’s a one of a kind. How is her interior design business going? I always forget to ask her about it.” The interior design business had been her connection to my mother. I supposed my mother had probably been her mentor.
“Gabriel…you can’t forget to ask a woman about her business. Let me give you a little premature father-to-son advice. At this stage, Caroline is so over the moon with you she probably overlooks it, but you need to make them think you care about how they spend their day. You may not, really. I mean, trust me, fabric, wallpaper…” He waved his hand and scanned the room as if looking for some other item to throw into his description. “It bores the hell out of me, but you’ve got to ask and listen. It’s important.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.” If I’m ever in a relationship with your daughter. “Now, tomorrow morning, I’ll meet with—”
“Gabriel, you understand I wouldn’t be giving you this chance if it weren’t for Caroline, right? I expect you to treat her well.”
What the hell did Caroline tell him?
He slipped his black American Express into the leather folder and signed the bill, then stood and excused himself for the restroom. I watched him walk away. He nodded a greeting to a couple of the tables.
Caroline and I ended years ago. We’d gone on dates in high school. I’d taken her to some dances. We’d had drunken hook-ups in college. We’d dated for a few years after college. But we’d both had relationships since then. She’d had serious relationships since then, had lived with a guy for a while. This had to be miscommunication between his daughter and him. It had to be.
After saying goodbye to Caroline’s father, I stepped off a curb right into a mass of black, disgusting drain water. The deep water soaked my dress socks and my entire right shoe. Squish. Squish. The sound followed me the entire walk home. My foot grew cold. I tried not to think about all the substances in the filthy water that now coated my skin. Fuck.
Back in my apartment, I took off my shoes and socks and dumped them in the kitchen trash. The city lights twinkled outside. In the apartment building along the way, the blue glare of television sets lit up a couple of different windows. The mode
rn furniture in my apartment bore an austere quality.
I set my shower to a high temperature and let the water rain down on me until my skin turned pink. After putting on my pajama pants, I lay down in bed. I pressed a button, and the drapes closed on the city outside. I called Poppy. Voicemail picked up, so I hung up.
A quiet filled the apartment. Subtle sounds infiltrated from outside, but with the drapes down, the noises were almost indistinguishable. I lay on my pillow, eyes open. Inside, in my chest, I ached—a physical pain. I picked up the phone to check the time. Hours had passed. I sat up in bed and opened a drawer. I plugged in an old sound machine. I hadn’t used it in a long time. I set it to ocean sounds. The irony was not lost on me. And no, I still didn’t sleep well.
In the morning, I left my apartment to meet my mom at a nearby breakfast place. A homeless woman with a skinny dog leaned against a building. She held a cardboard sign that read “Please help us.” People on the sidewalk sped by her. As I passed, I bent and dropped a twenty in the old, worn blue and white paper cup she held out.
I pushed open the door of Pershing Square Cafe. A younger woman rushed out and knocked right into me. She never looked back and never apologized. Nice.
“Gabriel. Over here.” My mom waved her arm. I stepped through the crowd of people hovering in the wait area. When I reached her, I bent to give her a hug and a kiss on her cheek. “We’re next for a table.”
Twenty-five minutes later, a hostess picked up two menus and asked us to follow her.
Once seated, I quickly scanned the menu, and prepared my order for the server. Mom dug in.
“How’s it feel to be back?”
“Fine.”
“I bet it’s good to be back in your apartment. Back in your bed.” I refrained from telling her about my poor sleep. She’d probably have a doctor friend prescribing sleeping pills within hours. Or she’d suggest a tea.
“How’ve you been?” I asked her.
“Oh, good.” She went on and filled me in about a home in the Hamptons she was decorating. Our food arrived, and I picked at my omelet. You could see butter residue lingering over the outer shell of the extremely thick concoction. They must’ve used eight eggs.