Three dots appeared, followed by another text.
Wish you were here. And yes, I am trying to tempt you.
Robyn stared at the familiar scene. She’d sat there with her great-aunt countless times. There would be a light breeze, zero humidity and absolutely no pressure for her to do anything.
A thought formed. She pushed it away, but it returned, a little more insistent.
She could go to California for a few weeks. Hang out with Lillian, plan her future, escape from everything here. It was the slow season, so Mindy wouldn’t care. Robyn didn’t need to get the house ready to sell for at least two months. Austin was in his own apartment, so he would be fine. Honestly, what was keeping her in Florida?
I’ll admit to being more than a little tempted.
Excellent. Book a flight and let me know when you’ll be here.
Could she do it? Should she?
Robyn thought about everything that had happened in the past few days. She was stressed, scared and sad. Heading to California was a lot like running away—even if it was just for a few weeks. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Lillian had always been there for her. Time to think would be good—she could figure out what she was supposed to do with her life. She had frequent flyer miles to pay for the flight.
Give me a couple of hours and I’ll let you know.
Lillian’s reply was instant.
I can’t wait to see you.
Me, too.
* * *
Harlow stumbled into her apartment, half-blinded by her tears. She’d cried the entire way home, not sure what had upset her more—that she wasn’t getting married in her mom’s backyard or the actual fight. Her mother had been so awful. Selfish and mean. How could she act like that? This was her only daughter’s wedding. That should be more important than anything.
For years she’d pictured herself getting married on the huge patio by the pool. She’d imagined the twinkle lights, the way the chairs would be set up. In her mind, the weather would be perfect, the guests beautifully dressed. Until the last year, the groom had been a vague stand-in, but now it was Kip. This was supposed to be her moment, and her mother was ruining it.
She threw herself on the sofa, where she cried until there weren’t any tears. Even though she had to pee, she didn’t get up. Why bother? Nothing would ever be good again.
“I hate her,” she said aloud.
That decided, she walked to the bathroom and took care of business, then washed her face before curling up on the bed. She was still there, feeling sorry for herself, when Kip walked in two hours later.
“Harlow?”
“In here.”
She clicked on the nightstand light and sat up. The second she saw him, the tears returned.
“What happened?” He rushed to the bed and sat next to her. “Are you hurt?”
She buried her head in his shoulder. “I had a fight with my mom. She’s a terrible person, and I hate her.”
He held her close, his body warm and protective. “You don’t hate her.”
“I do. I mean it this time. I’m never going to forgive her.” She sniffed and looked at him. “She says we can’t get married in the backyard, and it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
More tears fell, and her throat got tight.
“Since I was a little girl. But she doesn’t care about that. She’s ruining the wedding.”
Kip brushed away her tears. “You know I love you, and I’ll do anything to support you, but I don’t believe your mom told you we can’t get married in her backyard.”
“She did. She’s selling the house. She won’t even try to keep it.”
Kip’s concern faded. “It’s a lot of house, Harlow. It has to be expensive to maintain, plus the mortgage.”
She slid away from him. “You’re taking her side?”
“I’m pointing out that her wanting to sell isn’t unreasonable.”
She glared at him. “We’re talking about our wedding.”
“Yes, and your mom, who loves you and has always taken care of you.”
“Not this time.”
“What did she say specifically? Did she give a reason for selling now?”
Harlow thought about their fight. “She said she’d have to refinance—because of the divorce. She can live in it until six months after Austin’s eighteenth birthday, and then she either has to sell it or buy out Dad. I told her to do that. What’s the big deal?”
“What did she say?”
Harlow looked away, the first flicker of guilt igniting in her chest. “That she couldn’t afford it. That the bank wouldn’t give her a loan.”
Kip looked at her without speaking, as if waiting for the words to sink in.
“She’s lying,” Harlow said, scrambling to her feet. “She has plenty of money from my dad. He’s buying her out of the business. She gets a check every month.”
“Which probably covers the mortgage and a few expenses. The house has a water view, Harlow. It’s worth what? Two million? Four? Where is she supposed to come up with that kind of money? She doesn’t have a good-paying job. There was only a small lump sum at the divorce. Do you really believe she’s lying about her financial situation?”
His tone was so reasonable. Harlow didn’t like it.
“Why do you keep taking her side?”
“Because I don’t think you’re really that mad at your mom. I think you’re furious with your dad for going out with my sister and cheating and not being your hero. But for some reason you can’t fight with him, so you fight with your mom instead.” He faced her across the bed. “This is hard to say, but I know you value the truth, so here goes. Sometimes you act like you’re fifteen. It’s not your best quality.”
Fury and embarrassment flooded her. He was wrong about all of it. She wasn’t fighting with her mom because of her father. That was ridiculous. But also not the worst thing he’d said.
“You’re telling me I’m immature?”
His gaze was steady. “Sometimes. Mostly about your mom. Why are you making such a big deal about her selling the house? What you’re asking is unreasonable.”
“It’s not!” she shrieked. “I’ve been planning this since—”
“You were a little girl,” he said, interrupting her. “Yes, I know. We all know. Your mom can’t afford the house. There’s no other conversation to be had. Talking about this endlessly, having to admit she couldn’t qualify for a loan, must embarrass and upset her.”