And then I’d come home from the bar to find James in the guest room working on renovations, and I’d had this sudden flash that this could be my future—he and I working together. Growing something together. Sex last night had been different. Yes it had been hot as fuck, but there’d been a connection between us.
For one night I’d really thought that I could have it all: the Sea Sprite, a sexy, generous man in my bed, a future of endless possibility.
I’d been stupid to believe it might all become a reality—that it was anything more than a childish dream. It had been obvious from the minute James had conveyed his client’s first offer that he would win. His client’s pockets were too deep. I could never hope to compete.
And as for James and me? We were from different worlds. It was ridiculous to think that things between us could end any other way than it had.
It was time for me to accept defeat. I’d lost the Sea Sprite and I’d lost James, not that he’d ever been mine to begin with. Now I needed to look to the future.
I made my way back down the rock jetty to shore and started the long walk home. I took my time, letting the sun warm my sweat-cooled skin, kicking my feet through the tide as it washed across the sand. Growing up I’d never thought much about my future. First, when I was younger, it felt too vague and far away. Then, when my parents died while I was still in high school, it felt like my world had cratered, and it had taken everything I had to make it from one day to the next—the idea of a future had felt unfathomable.
At some point, the fact that I would eventually take over the Sea Sprite just seemed to become inevitable and obvious. After my parents died, I’d gone to live with my grandparents, and the inn became a part of my everyday life: I’d do my homework in the lobby while my grandmother manned the desk. We had big family dinners on the back patio every Sunday, along with any guests who were staying there at the time. I spent weekends and summers working wherever I was needed—cleaning rooms, hauling luggage, maintenance and repair.
I liked working there. I liked getting to know the guests year after year; I liked that I was a part of them falling in love with this beautiful place. I liked that I was a part of their memories, in the background of photographs and videos. I liked the thought of this being my future.
It had never occurred to me to do anything else. But now, running the Sea Sprite was no longer an option. So what now? The obvious answer was that I could follow through on the plans James and I had made and strike out for somewhere new, find another motel to renovate and run. Except that would mean moving away from my family. No more slinging pints at the bar with the locals, no babysitting Karlie’s kid once he was born, no more hitching a ride on my uncle Brian’s charters.
The idea left a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I glanced toward the houses lining the shore, most of them small, charming bungalows, nestled between a few larger rentals. I could buy one of those with the money from the sale of the inn, I realized. Settle into town life. But then what? Even if I didn’t need a job for financial reasons, I needed something to keep me busy. And it wasn’t like I had many hobbies—all of my time and energy had been poured into keeping the Sea Sprite up and running.
Now it was all gone. All that investment of time and energy wasted. I was in my mid-twenties, no college degree, about to be out of a job, with no idea what lay ahead. At this point I was going to have to start from scratch and decide what I wanted to be when I grew up.
I finally reached the battered steps leading up to the Sea Sprite’s lawn, and I climbed them slowly with heavy legs and an even heavier heart. I wasn’t even conscious of where I was headed until I found myself circling around to the parking lot.
James’s rental car was gone. I let out the breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. So that was it, then. This was over. I glanced at my phone, checking for a text or an email from him—nothing. Not even a goodbye.
And suddenly, the loss hit me like a punch to the gut. Not just the loss of whatever potential I had with James, but of everything. My chest squeezed, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Through a haze I heard the squeaking wheels of the cleaning cart in the distance, and I glanced up to see Ana Lucia pushing it toward James’s room.
“Wait!” I called, jogging toward her.
She pursed her lips as I drew near. “You’re looking worse for wear,” she said after giving me a once-over.
I ignored the comment. “What are you doing?”
She lifted her eyebrows and gestured elaborately toward the cleaning cart. “Cleaning the room? We had a guest check out. That’s sort of what you’re supposed to do when that happens?”
“Yeah, but normally Karlie handles that.”
“If you think I’m calling a seven-months-pregnant woman down here to scrub toilets, you have another think coming,” she scoffed at me.
I shoved a hand through my sweat-damp hair. “Right, yeah. Of course.” I glanced past her toward the room. I didn’t even want to know what Ana Lucia would think when she saw the state of the bed with the sheets all twisted and towels strewn across the floor from when we’d hastily dried ourselves off after the shower.
My cheeks began to blush from the memory. “Why don’t you leave that here and go back to the front desk. I’ll take care of cleaning up.”
She narrowed her eyes skeptically and almost looked like she was going to press the issue, but then she threw her hands up. “Suits me,” she said, spinning on her heel and heading back to the lobby. “Don’t gotta tell me twice.”
Once she was gone, I took the ring of extra keys from the cart and let myself into James’s old room. The lights were off, the curtains drawn. Only a strip of sunlight from the doorway illuminated the inside. He’d tidied up before he’d left. The bed was made, the towels hung in the bathroom. Of course he had—thoughtful as ever.
Before I could stop myself, I was crawling across the bed, tossing the covers aside and burying my face in the pillow. It still smelled like James. Everything in the room smelled like him. And us, together. I closed my eyes, squeezing them tight, letting my disappointment and sorrow and pain from the day rise to the surface.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried—maybe at my grandparents’ funeral—but now I let the tears come. I pulled the sheets tight around me, pressing my face into the pillow, enveloping myself in his scent and trying to tell myself that it was James’s arms holding me close, trying to imagine his voice whispering in my ear that it would all be okay. That he believed in me.
I almost, almost believed it.
19
James
I’d worked with Dick Sr. for years, and I still felt a slight queasiness in my stomach every time I was summoned to his office. As I rode the elevator to the top floor of the skyscraper bearing his name, I checked my reflection in the mirrored surface of the doors, straightening my tie and running my fingers through my hair in an attempt to tamp down the damp ends. I’d been back in the city less than an hour, and already my life was sliding back into its familiar routine. There should have been something comforting in that, but instead something about it made my lungs feel tight. I tugged at my tie, loosening the knot so I could breathe a little easier.