Although . . . it suddenly occurred to Eve that, despite Jacob’s devotion to the B&B, maybe it wasn’t her commitment to Castell Cottage he’d wanted to hear about.
Hm.
Hmmm.
It was too soon to tell him about the little seed of love sprouting in her chest, putting down deep, delicate roots. It had to be too soon. That’s what Eve had thought, anyway.
But what if she’d been wrong?
A knock at the door startled her out of her tangled thoughts. “It’s only me, darling,” Gigi called, just like she had yesterday evening.
“Come in,” Eve said, but her mind was still churning, replaying that last edgy, uncertain conversation with Jacob. Everything had come crashing together without warning, two sides of her life that she’d been learning to handle separately, and she hadn’t known what to do for the best.
“Shivani made you breakfast,” Gigi said, shutting the door behind her. “A cheese and sun-dried tomato omelet, you lucky thing. She’s always shoving spinach at me.”
“Tell her thank you,” Eve murmured absently, but the words were just a reflex. She’d thought—she’d wanted to make it clear to Jacob that she wasn’t messing him around, work-wise, and then he’d told her to fuck right off and quite frankly broken her heart. (At least, Eve assumed the throbbing ache in her chest was heartbreak. If it wasn’t, it must be the start of some other cardiac event.) When he’d gotten rid of her so easily, she’d felt as if her bones were too fragile to carry her. She’d had to leave. She’d had to run. Except now she was wondering if getting rid of her had been easy for Jacob at all.
She’d been so hurt by his sudden coldness, she’d forgotten what that coldness meant. Forgotten that his barbed wire was just a desperate form of protection.
“Thank Shivani yourself, darling,” Gigi was saying. “Come to our midmorning practice in the sunroom. She misses you terribly, as do I.”
Eve finally looked up at her grandmother, who was perched on the edge of her bed in a skintight, baby-blue jersey catsuit. “Um . . . I . . . I don’t think I can make midmorning practice, actually.”
“Gosh,” Gigi said. “You look a little dazed, sweetheart. Perhaps we should go and see Doctor Bobby. He was telling me all about these lovely vitamin drips they’ve had in from America, they’ll pep you right up.”
“No thank you,” Eve murmured, disentangling herself from the silky canopy of her princess bed. “I have plans today.”
“Do you, indeed? How thrilling, do share.” Gigi picked up the omelet she’d just placed on the bedside table and helped herself to a bite.
“I’m going to have stern words with the family,” Eve called as she strode into the en suite, “and then I’m going back to Skybriar where I will inform Jacob that he can’t sack me without due cause, or I shall take him to tribunal, and also that I love him, and if he wants to get rid of me he’ll have to say something definitive about that.”
There was a short pause from the bedroom before Gigi replied, “Oh, Eve. Yes. Absolutely yes. You take a shower, my little moppet, and I will choose your T-shirt.”
* * *
“I have something to say!” Eve announced as she swept into the kitchen. Then she stopped in her tracks, snapped her mouth shut, and blinked at the crowded island. “Oh. Erm. Hello, everyone.”
She’d expected her parents to be pacing about the place, since they both took Fridays off, but she hadn’t been prepared to find her sisters and their boyfriends lurking, as well. Still, she would not be deterred. Eve lifted her chin and nodded at the men. “Hello, Redford, Zafir. Since you did not force yourselves into my haven of self-actualization, you are exempt from the coming storm.”
Red grinned and leaned back against the kitchen wall, his long, fiery hair standing out against the cream tile. “Nice one.”
Chloe rolled her eyes.
Zaf, meanwhile, was busy stroking one massive hand over Danika’s back with grave intensity—but he spared a second to turn his dark eyes on Eve and grunt. It was one of his neutral grunts, which she took to mean, Very well, carry on. So she did.
“First of all.” Eve turned to glare at Gigi, who had followed her in, and then at Shivani, who sat at the breakfast bar. “You two are supposed to be the voices of reason in this house.” She ignored the sharp sound of her mother’s outraged breath. “What on earth were you doing in Skybriar?”
“I decided we had better go along,” Shivani said, her attention on her own omelet, “in case your mother lost her temper and threatened someone with a lawsuit.”
Eve faltered. “Ah. Hm. Well, I suppose that’s fair enough.”
“Eve!” Mum said, her outrage intensifying.
Eve, however, was in no mood. She was the outraged one, thank you very much, and over the last twenty minutes of preparation—during which Janelle Monáe’s “Make Me Feel” tongue-clicked encouragingly in her ear—she’d decided she had every right to be. So she said firmly, “Clearly, Shivani’s caution was warranted, because you behaved horribly.”
“Now, sweetheart,” Dad began.
“As did you. You’re just as bad as each other!”
Dad shut his mouth with an astonished click.
“I appreciate that I’ve handled some things poorly, recently,” Eve said, swallowing as she considered her next words. “Up to and including running off to another county because I was upset about being told off. You were absolutely right to take me to task, because I’ve been letting childish fear limit me for far too long, and it wasn’t fair to myself or to you.”
Eve’s parents looked equal parts bewildered and relieved, as if these were the words they’d longed to hear but had never expected to. That, more than anything, spurred her on. Clearly, Eve had spent more than enough of her twenties avoiding responsibility—but that ended now. It ended today. Which meant expressing herself fully, being open and honest, being the best person she could hope to be for herself and for the people she loved. The people who loved her.
“The thing is,” she continued, “there was no need for what happened at Castell Cottage. It’s not as if I completely disappeared. I remained in contact with my sisters, and I’m an adult woman with a brown belt in karate.”
From the corner of the kitchen, she heard Zaf murmur, “Er . . . she’s a what?”
Eve plowed on. “Your worries for me were valid, but instead of expressing them, you skipped straight to—to DEFCON Five.”
“Actually,” Chloe interjected, “DEFCON One is the—”
“Shut up, Chloe! This applies to you, too, by the way. And you, Dan. I appreciate you all being worried for my welfare. But couldn’t you have asked me about the situation before you all showed up and created a scene at my place of employment? Couldn’t one of you have said, Hey, Eve, we have some questions and concerns about X, Y, and Z, so we’d like to come visit? Or did none of you believe I’d respond in a reasonable, adult manner? That I’d understand, and give you the information you needed to feel comfortable?” Eve waited for a moment, her jaw tight.
No one spoke, though Mum had the grace to look ashamed. Dad shuffled uncomfortably, too—as well he might, since Mum never did anything they hadn’t both agreed upon, and for all his quietness, Dad enjoyed and strongly endorsed his wife’s frequent bouts of bonkersness.