Was there a single thing she could have done to make this place more inviting? Was there a single way she could have made this easier for her family? Was there something wrong with the email? Had she not sent enough texts? Had they not seen the new pictures, or the magazine proofs, or the newsletter? Could they have somehow not realized it was time to sign up?
No. Even with every possible inducement, even with each tiny amount of friction eliminated, they didn’t want to come.Nobody in her family except Max had blocked a single day at the inn.
Maybe it was true, Rose allowed, that they’d never felt the same way about this place as her. They thought it was inconvenient to travel here. They were neutral at best on board games. They’d eaten the same meals too many times. But some part of her had thought that they’d do it for her, at least. They had to be somewhere on Memorial Day and Thanksgiving and Christmas, and she’d invited them to be with her. But it wasn’t enough for them that she wanted them here. She wasn’t enough.
Rose picked up one of the stupid floral throw pillows she’d spent hours embroidering and wrapped herself around it. Eleven years ago, when Max was still ruling this place with an iron fist, Rose had come out here for two weeks, fresh off filing for divorce, and tried to rearrange her ideas of how her life was going to go. She’d held her baby cousins and flipped pancakes for her uncles and driven her younger brothers to the movies, telling herself that she had a big family and she was never going to be alone. But there was no guarantee she wouldn’t be, no matter how many cushions or casseroles she made.
Ten minutes was enough time in one day spent indulging her suspicion that there was something fundamentally unlovable about herself. She needed to start dinner and pack. But the same part of herself that had engaged in what she now knew to have been a great deal of magical thinking about her family still wished that someone would come find her.
And Tom did; she heard his voice calling her name, not worried, just confused. She immediately wiped her face, but hisexpression fell when he saw her sniffling. He looked around, then shut and locked the door behind him before coming to sit next to her on the bed.
He put his arm around her and pulled her against him. “What happened?” he asked in that overly gentle voice of concern people used with small children who’d taken a tumble on the sidewalk. Hearing himself, he cleared his throat, apparently deciding that a different character was called for. “Actually, first tell mewho. I’ll drag their ass in here, and that’ll give you a moment.”
Rose forced a laugh at his ominous tone. “That would fix the problem, actually. If you could drag them here.”
“Drag who?”
“My family. Did you see? Nobody signed up. Nobody blocked out any time here.” She laughed again and tilted her head up. “I thought it looked perfect. Max likes it. But she’s got early signs of dementia. Maybe it doesn’t look good. Maybe it’s too frilly.”
Tom rubbed her shoulders, face creasing in confusion. “Babe, this place looks great. It’s never looked better. You can’t even tell there was a storm.”
“That’s not good enough,” she said. She leaned back on her palms, hoping her nose would clear if she stared at the ceiling. “Or is that just another lie I tell myself? That there was ever a single thing I could have done here that would make anyone want to spend their vacation time with me.”
She was very glad that Tom was there with her now, just grateful for his presence, and had not really considered what hemight think of her pity party. So she was surprised when he stood up and stalked away to the window. He set his hands on his hips, attitude agitated.
“Babe, tons of people wanted to spend their vacation with you. And did,” he said, and Rose realized she’d stepped in it. He’d been here almost three months when he could have been at least earning money if not having a wonderful time as an up-and-coming actor living in New York. Not to mention all the time Boyd had been here, and Ximena, and all the girls.
“Oh no, I’m not saying I’m not incredibly grateful,” Rose tripped over herself to explain. “You were incredible. Everyone was! This is not on you. No, oh my God—I could never have imagined everything you’ve done. You’ve been so good. I’m just sorry it ended like this.”
What a waste of everyone’s time. Jesus. She could have just sold it. Tom had told her, hadn’t he? Everyone thought it was a shithole, and he hadn’t wanted to stay. She should have just listened to him.
“That’s not what I mean,” Tom said sharply. “Rosie! What didyouwant? What were you doing out here for all this time?”
She blinked at him in confusion. She’d wanted to fix this place up so that her family would have somewhere to get together during the holidays again, and he knew that.
Tom tapped urgently on his palm, as though counting. “Because here’s what I see. You have me, and at one point, at least, you knew thatIwas your family. You have your Aunt Max, who is thrilled to come out here as soon as possible. You have this place, which has never looked better. And I have fuckingfilled it upwith people who think you’re wonderful in everyway.” He cocked his head at her, expression pained. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
What she wanted? She’d never thought of it. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined that letting Tom come help with renovations would set off a daisy chain of events leading to more than a dozen vivid artistic depictions of Rose in a clinch with both Tom and Boyd Kellagher. She hadn’t even thought that at the end of it she’d haveTom.
Tom shook his head. “I know this isn’t how you pictured it, but isn’t this what you actually wanted? Babe, it’s going to be great. We’re going to come back here this summer, as soon as the Broadway run wraps, and you’re going to love it.”
Tom sat back down next to her and tugged her into his chest, his hands curling into her hair to soothe her, even though she knew she was being a bit of a brat.
“Wouldn’t that be enough?” Tom asked. “If I’m there, and Max, and a bunch of our friends? Adrian and Caroline are back from Singapore this week. My parents would come if I asked. Every other inmate in this asylum is dying to come back. Is that enough?”
Rose scrunched her eyes shut, willing away the sting of disappointment because she heard the note of uncertainty in Tom’s voice. Of course it would be enough, if Tom really did show up. But hadn’t she asked too much of him already?
“You’re not tired of this place?” she asked tentatively.
“Never,” Tom said stoutly. He rubbed his face into her hair, lips warm against the shell of her ear. “I’ll be there, and I’ll make sure everyone else comes too. I can’t even get rid of Boyd. I’m sure he’ll be here. Didn’t I do that?”
“That was all you,” Rose agreed. She knew she was being coddled, but this was filling up a little crack in the very base of her, the part that only ever felt loved for the things she did, not the things she was. And Tom was enough to fill her heart all the way up to the brim. He filled it to overflowing.
Tom pulled her tighter against him. “Because don’t I take care of you?” he demanded. “Haven’t I done everything you asked?”
“You did! You did. I’m just sorry I asked you to spend so much of your time on this.” She could have taken Tom up on his offer of crashing at Boyd’s vacation house, and she could have been sitting under an umbrella with sea turtles bringing her coconuts full of rum this whole time.
“I’m not sorry,” Tom said fiercely. “I’m glad I got this chance. Because you know I can do it now. All the things I said I’d do the first time around.”
