“In the broadest sense. Not just their partners—their parents, children, work colleagues, and of course their relationship with themselves.”
“Mmm. I guess.” Her gaze skims down me, soft as a feather brushed over my skin, giving me goose bumps. “You fascinate me.”
I chuckle. “Why?”
“You’re so… composed. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem older than you are because you’re so capable and in control.”
“Oh yeah, that sounds super sexy.”
“No, I mean it in a good way. I sometimes forget you’re so young… you’re only thirty-two, aren’t you?”
“I’m thirty, Beth.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh shit, really?”
“Yeah, thirty-one in September.”
“Well, you kept that quiet last year. Turning the big three-oh.”
“Wasn’t something I particularly wanted to celebrate.”
She sips her wine. “Why aren’t you married?”
I shift on the sofa, uncomfortable with her turning the conversation in my direction. “Never met the right girl.”
“I don’t get it. You’re gorgeous, hardworking, smart, wealthy, empathetic, and you like animals. You’re perfect. Why hasn’t a girl snapped you up?”
I glow inside at her description, then remind myself somewhat desperately that it doesn’t mean anything, because she goes out with men like Jude—dark, moody guys who ride motorbikes and don’t always treat girls well, and yet they keep going back for more.
“What happened with Annabelle?” she asks. “You never did tell me.”
I met Annabelle about a month before Jude walked into the bar holding Beth’s hand. I liked Annabelle. She was fun and we got on well, but I can still remember meeting Beth, and feeling as if someone had tipped a bucket of ice-cold water over me. The feeling of shocked numbness only grew as time went by, and I discovered that Beth wasn’t only beautiful in looks, but also in spirit—bright, gentle, fun, and so incredibly nice. I can’t ever imagine her saying anything horrible about anyone, and I just love that about her.
It took only two or three weeks for me to realize I didn’t feel that way about Annabelle. She deserved to have someone who could give her that passion and complete adoration. And so we broke up.
After that, I tried to date a few times with varying success, but no girl came close to Beth. And so six months ago, I officially gave up. Since then, I’ve concentrated on my idea for setting up PAWS, throwing myself into my work whole-heartedly.
“She deserved better.” I don’t know how else to phrase it.
She picks up a kettle chip and crunches it, moving crumbs from her bottom lip onto her tongue. I watch her helplessly, aching from keeping my feelings bottled up for so long.
For something to do, I pick up my whiskey glass and have a mouthful of the amber liquid, enjoying its rich sear down to my stomach. She’s still surveying me thoughtfully and, unnerved, I look away, out through the windows to the dark ocean in the distance.
I blink and twitch.
“What?” Beth asks.
I give a short laugh. “Sorry. I saw the reflection in the window of my jacket by the door and I thought it was a person.”
She glances across at it, and then her gaze comes back to me. “A person?”
I scratch my cheek. “Sometimes I wonder if my dad haunts this place.”
Her expression softens. “I’m sure you’re just recalling memories of his presence here. I’m glad you stayed. It’s such a nice house.”
“It is. And it made sense to stay. My parents paid off the mortgage, so I don’t have any debt, and it would be near-impossible to find something similar in the Bay of Islands. But the memories make it hard sometimes.”
“You had a difficult relationship with your father, didn’t you?” Her brown eyes look like flat discs in the lamplight. “I never realized.”
