I was aware all of this was meant to be comforting, but it landed wrong. My gut told me that something she said wasn’t ringing true.
I shoved these thoughts away. It was impossible for me to be with someone who’d tricked me into dating them. Even if he really had developed any real feelings for me, which he obviouslyhadn’t, as was clear from the way he’d vacated the island without so much as a goodbye.
It had all been a ruse. He’d finally gotten a good lead on who’d been sabotaging the agency, and his need for me was over. I’d played the part he’d cast for me. The thought made me sick, so I sat up and took a couple of deep breaths.
“I’m going to stay here for a few days, if that’s okay,” I said.
“What about work? You’re not quitting, are you? You can’t let this ruin what you’ve built.” She tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.
“No, I’ll call in sick. I’m not quitting just yet, but it won’t hurt to see what’s available out here.”
Her smile was a mixture of love, pity, and hurt.
I checked my phone for what felt like the millionth time. No texts. No calls.
I texted Grant that I’d be out for a few days and to inform Maggie. Afterward, I turned off my phone. I had no one I wanted to talk to right then. The only irrational exception was Colin, and it would be best if I simply removed that temptation by putting my phone out of reach.
My mother and I spent a couple of days shopping, getting massages, hanging out by the pool, and playing card games with her friends. At night, though, her friends wanted to party.
“Katie, you didn’t come out last night, but I really think you should tonight. There’s a bigger group. You can come back early if you want, but something livelier might be fun for you,” she said as she went through her closet looking for her outfit for the evening.
“Mom, you don’t want me at a bar with you. What if you meet a man? You don’t want your daughter cramping your style.”
She laughed. “Oh, please. A man! I’ve met plenty of men, but every one of them is just a friend. No one could ever be half the man your father was to me.”
“You’re not lonely?” I asked.
“Lonely? Do I look lonely?”
I surveyed her room, full of mementos from nights out with friends and community parties by the pool. Cowboy hats, beaded necklaces, fedoras, funny sunglasses.
“I guess not,” I conceded.
“I’m having a great time. The only person I’m ever lonely for is your father. But there’s nothing I can do about that. When I miss him, I talk to him. He’s around, checking up on me. I’m sure he checks up on you too, sweetie.”
My throat tightened, but I tried to swallow my emotions away.
“Fine. I’ll go,” I said, afraid I’d have to admit that I was the lonely one.
“Oh, goody! Ok, you can wear that new dress we bought yesterday,” she informed me as she walked into her bathroom.
“Well, that’s settled,” I said out loud to myself. Apparently I’d be wearing the new knee-length sage-colored dress to a bar with my mom.
Had I ever been more pathetic than when I walked into the bar and half a dozen people twice my age greeted me like I was an old friend? I tried to be friendly and appreciative, but really, I should have just stayed behind to wallow.
None of the distractions of the past few days had had their intended effect. Colin was still forefront on my mind. An image of his intense eyes would flash in my head randomly throughout the day. A phantom kiss would play on my lips. The memory of his fingers traveling over my body was enough to give me goosebumps.
And the beautiful things he’d said to me—words that I now ached to remember because they weren’t true…
My mother tried ordering some of her favorite tropical drinks, but this wasn’t that sort of bar. She settled on a BlueLong Island Iced Tea, which she’d probably nurse for the whole evening. My mother wasn’t a big drinker, but she loved to be part of the crowd. Tonight that meant drinking and, eventually, singing.
The bar opened up the mic for karaoke, and my mother’s friends quickly made a beeline for the signup sheet. I, however, abstained. I’d made enough of a fool of myself in the past week, and my goal was to finish that evening with a bit of grace.
My mother had other plans. She returned from signing up to the high-top table where I’d parked my purse (and therefore myself). And she wasn’t alone.
“This is my daughter, Katelynn, whom I was telling you about. Katie, this is Ben. He’s Roni’s nephew,” my mother said to a terrified-looking Ben and me.
“Hi,” I said with a chipper tone, hoping that might make at least one of us feel more at ease.
