Page 102 of Hearts on the Line

“Finally,” I grumble.

“Like me and Jimmy didn’t know what you two were up to in high school.”

“Jesus, did everyone fucking know?” I take a sip of my coffee to hide the grin tugging at my lips before everything falls quiet again. “Sorry, Dad. You should have been enjoying Europe. You worked hard for that vacation.”

“You want to know the truth? I didn’t necessarily want to come back because my grandfather’s restaurant burned down, but I was tired of Europe. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

He has this wicked sense of humor. Dark, sometimes. Kind of like mine. Still, I know he’s trying to make me laugh, but I just can’t.

“What are we gonna do?” I say.

He sighs and leans against the railing.

“Here’s the thing.” He scratches his round stomach, peering down at me. Annie has his wise brown eyes. “I’m done. You know? I did this my whole life. I’m tired. I want to retire. Maybe work on the lobster boat a couple months a year, help you out if you still want to do it. But I’m okay with letting that go.”

“You want to sell the lobster boat too?”

He looks at me and laughs.

“You know when it hit me?” he says. “I was on a gondola in Venice⁠—”

“Fancy,” I interrupt.

He ignores me and continues. “This whole time, you’ve been carrying everything for the whole family. You run the boat. You run everything. And I’ve let you. I think for a bit, you needed it. But I can tell your heart isn’t in it.”

I shrug. “It’s all I know. I⁠—”

“When your mom got sick last year, everything shifted for me. My grandfather worked hard to build up that place, but tastes change, and I don’t have to tell you how hard it’s been to bring people in. You found a way though.”

“You just happened to hear? Nana didn’t call you immediately and share every detail?” I try to make a joke of it, but it feels like I’m under a microscope. “I cook when I have time⁠—”

“But you don’t have time,” my dad continues. “You’ve given your life to this family, and I think it’s time you go after what you want.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Bullshit.” My dad points his finger at me. “This is going to be some tough love, but I’ve watched you break your back for years because of a few bad decisions when you were younger. We all make mistakes, but that’s not who you are now. The restaurant means nothing if it means losing you. You stepped up when Mom got sick, helped so I could take her to Europe and I don’t regret a damn thing. I want to enjoy what I have left of my life, with the people I love, but I’ve been quiet long enough. I let you carry this when I should’ve stepped in. That’s on me. I robbed you of the chance to make a life for yourself, and I’m sorry.” He places his hand on my shoulder. “You’re a great man, you’re wicked loyal to your family, and you love that woman out there with everything you have. Don’t let that go.”

I glance out to Sloane, splashing in the surf, as Wally chases her with Betty White stuffed into his mouth.

That’s all I wanted. Just for her to be mine. For us to be together.

“What do you want, Ethan?”

I can’t say it.

“What do you want?” he presses, his voice rising.

Sloane. The chance to figure out what I want for myself. I haven’t dreamed about that since losing everything in high school.

“I want to cook my own food,” I say finally. It’s a small whisper. “A restaurant that’s mine, where I decide what’s on the menu. And I don’t want to fry another basket of fries or make another lobster roll.”

My dad throws his head back and booms this loud laugh. My mother joins him a minute later, quietly crying. I realize she must have been listening from the doorway.

“I want more time with your mother and you kids,” my father announces. “And I’m tired of watching you break yourself down for someone else’s dream. Ethan, your mother and I have decided that we’re not rebuilding. We want to give you the insurance money so you can afford to open a place of your own.”

My mom wipes at her face. “Consider this a fresh start, honey.”

I don’t know what to say.