“He’s not a good partner, honey.”
“What did he offer?” Riven asked.
“Half the contract?—”
“Oh, how generous.” I could cut her sarcasm with a spoon. “I mean, did he at least apologize? Was there crawling and begging?”
Snorting, I shook my head, bending back over my cookie’s snowboobs. “He’s emailed me twice, and yesterday I got a text from him.”
And each time, I remembered the way Sylvik had told me he believed I could run my own event planning company, if I returned to the west coast. The idea was scary and exhilarating and flattering but…I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave Eastshore.
My hands were full of the piping bag as I carefully finished this cookie, and thus I couldn’t stop my sister from sliding my phone from my back pocket. She hummed as she opened the text chain.
“You didn’t respond. He texted you about an hour ago, too.”
“Of course I didn’t respond. I don’t know what to tell him.”
Mom’s fist pounded the table. “Tell him to go to hell! What’s the most recent text say?”
I could see Riven’s surprise at our mother’s vehemence, and she glanced at me as if asking permission. Or if I even wanted to hear it. I shrugged and reached for another cookie.
“Brooke-bear, I know you’re seeing these. You owe me an answer at least. My offer is a good one, and you know it. You BELONG out here in L.A., not some dumpy little East Coast town. You have talent, and it’s not fair to deprive all these brides of it.” My sister snorted derisively this time. “He’s good.”
“He’s manipulative,” Mom growled.
“Yeah, but he’s also right.” I felt Riven move to stand beside me, even though I pretended interest in the cigar I was piping into this snowman’s mouth. “Youaretalented, Brooke,” she said quietly. “And you love wedding planning.”
She was right. “I do,” I whispered. “I love any event planning. I love the excitement and the pride of seeing it come together.”
“You can do that on Eastshore,” Mom pointed out.
It was nothing I hadn’t been thinking in the last weeks, but now I sighed and straightened and met my sister’s eyes. “I don’t know. I worked hard in L.A., I built a name and a reputation. That was mydream.I mean—” Jerking my chin toward the phone she still held, I referenced Ethan’s message. “He’s got a celebrity asking formyvision. That’s a big deal.”
“It is,” she agreed quietly, solemnly. “Youdidwork hard, and you deserve your success. You deserve a lot more than being dumped by a partner with half your talent. But this could be a triumphant comeback.”
Across the counter, Mom sounded shocked when she asked, “You’re not seriously considering going back to him, are you?”
“Nothim, Mom,” I corrected dully. “Just the job.”
Was I?
I hadn’t lied; I was proud of what I’d accomplished, and proud that I wasn’t a complete fuck-up like Ethan thought. Proud that he still needed and wanted me.
But did I need and want him?
Did I need or want that business back? That was the dream I’d worked so hard to build, but was it still my dream?
Or was there something else, something right here on this island, that I needed and wanted even more?
I stared down at the piping tip in my hands, considering the wedding I was planning right now, the wedding I needed to focus on. And the male who was helping me plan it.
Sylvik.
And I realized I couldn’t return to L.A., to my old life, without knowing for certain why he’d kissed me. Once I was sure of that answer, I could choose a future. If he’d just lost control and been overcome by the—theprimalpart of the Solstice Hunt, and had chased me because I’d run…
Well, if that was the case, then maybe Iwouldtuck my tail between my legs, run back to California, and try to forget how amazing that kiss had been.
Chapter Seven
