After lunch, my mom found me by the restaurant’s back door as I was tossing out trash.
“You should keep him around. It’s about time you settled down. Honey, you won’t always be this young or turn heads the way you do now. I remember days when you weren’t so ... Never mind. And remember that men like women whoknow when to hold their tongue. I just don’t want you to miss your chance.”
“Mom.” I held her gaze. “I’m happy as I am. I don’t need to keep a man around. I don’t want a relationship. I’m not looking for a relationship. Don’t interfere with how I live my life.” Even if I did want one, I’d still tell her to shove it. She was on my last nerve.
“See, it’s that kind of mouth—”
A noise from behind us made us turn around. She never finished the sentence, but she didn’t have to. It had been said in a dozen ways over the years, loud and quiet. I was “too much, no wonderhecouldn’t stand to stay,” no wondershestill needed “to warn me not to start,” as if that was still relevant. I wasn’t in contact with my dad anymore. He’d fallen off the radar, just as she’d predicted, and that was probably my fault too, in her mind.
I smiled automatically, trash bag still clutched in my hand, my throat tight with the effort to stay civil.
Sebastian and his dad were there, examining the deck’s attachment to the frame.
“Hi. You two ready for dessert?” My mom asked cheerfully. “I brought a bundt cake, because with the state of this place, I figured Ruby wouldn’t have something sweet for us here.”
“My mom’s version of ‘help,’” I whispered to Sebastian as she and I joined him and his dad.
20
Sebastian
IT WASN’T ANYTHINGI didn’t already know. I wondered if my dad had heard. But even as her words echoed in my head, I knew—for all her insistence that what we had was only casual—I wasn’t just anyone to her. Not really. She might not want to admit it, but she forgot every other man when she was with me.
Yet, I knew she wasn’t ready for anything more. Might never be.
A few days and a lot of fucking later, I drove to Blueshore, forty minutes down the coast, after the construction crew wrapped up.
My mom made me dinner even though I told her not to. My dad wanted to hear about the inn’s progress and my recent project at NASA, which we didn’t get to discuss when they visited Coral Bay.
Usually, the fewer details I could share about my job, the more excited he got about it. “That’s top secret, right?” He’d usually say, then turn to my mom, “Your son’s working on top secret stuff, Trudy.”
I stopped on the way at Solstice Cellars, a boutique winery and artisan shop nestled between a bakery and a clothing store in the heart of town.
They carried the kind of things my mom always said sheshouldn’tlove but secretly did—limoncello, fig and rosemary jam, imported cheese. I picked up a gift basket and checked out their wine racks in search of something that Ruby might like.
A pair of heels clicked behind me.
“Excuse me,” came a woman’s voice when someone slightly bumped into my shoulder.
“You’re okay,” I muttered, continuing to peruse the bottles.
“Excuse me,” she repeated after a moment. “You seem like someone who knows fine things.”
I turned to look at her. And recognized her immediately.
Heather. Tan, toned, and glossy. Just like back in high school.
She was giving me a once-over. “What would you recommend?”
I could tell she didn’t recognize me.
I nodded toward a bottle on the shelf. “Depends on what you’re looking for. The Italians they carry are good.” I was just grabbing one for Ruby.
She smiled. “You have good taste.” Angling her body slightly toward mine, she added. “I bet your wife or girlfriend appreciates that.”
“Don’t have one.”
She extended a manicured hand. “Heather Warner-Lane. Well, Heather Carson actually.” Carson was her maiden name, which, apparently, she returned to.
