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He inclined his head. “I’m afraid this chef is out of that particular ingredient. Your answer determines whether I shit all over my Blackthorn deal and piss off the man who is holding the purse strings to my new restaurant, or if I push through and sign this contract.”
“You’re thinking of staying?” My eyes widened.
He nodded solemnly.
“But, Row…you hate this town.”
“Yes, but I love you.” He licked his lips. “Plus, I can always open something in New York. Probably not immediately, since I’ll be fucking radioactive to investors and don’t have that kind of capital on hand…” He sucked his teeth.
The thought of Row dropping everything, staying behind, here, in Staindrop, made my skin crawl. I would never forgive myself if I knew I’d held him back. But I also wasn’t crazy about the idea of him putting me in this situation. He knew I always aimed to please. Having the opportunity to appease the entire town I grew up in was definitely temptation. But maybe I had grown a spine after all. Because no matter how happy I knew it would make other people, I couldn’t do this to Row and myself.
“Youshouldn’tchangeyourplansforme,” I said in one breath, the words ripping from my mouth like a Band-Aid. I untangled from him, landing on the floor with an awkward thump. “Don’t. Don’t give up on everything worthwhile for me. I’ll only disappoint you.” I stood up in a rush, panicking, blinking, ready to bolt. “Please go. Live your life. The pressure of disappointing you will eat at me, and I’ll end up messing it up. I’m not ready.” Pause. “We can’t be together, Row.”
Our eyes met. I forced myself to stay. To look the damage I’d caused in the eye. I had to stand there and see the disappointment on his face. The expression of a man ripped to shreds.
It was in this moment that Sheriff Menchin decided to saunter into the room, accompanied by another cop. “Casablancas.” He tucked his phone into his pocket.
“Village idiot,” Row drawled, ripping his gaze from my face. “Long time no see.”
Menchin tipped his head down. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. Had a fucking blast. In fact, feel free to screw right off.”
Menchin brushed his hand over his gun without realizing what he was doing. These two were going to kill each other if given the chance.
“I can…stick around.” I cleared my throat.
Row’s voice was stone-cold as he continued staring at Menchin. “Thanks, I’ve got it.”
I swallowed hard. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
“I’ll go check on Dylan, then.”
Nobody noticed when I slipped out of the room to the hallway, pressed my head against the wall, and began bawling my eyes out.
CAL
“Ordinary World”—Duran Duran
It took me forty minutes to get myself together and stop weeping.
I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I hadn’t cried over a boy since Franco—keeping my distance from the other sex purposefully—and even that had been because of rather than over. Friendships? Parents? Instagram reels of thirsty, wing-torn bees being saved by a kind stranger that kept on popping up in my feed because the stupid algorithm knew I’d always bite? Sure.
But never about an actual guy.
Using whatever little energy I had left in me, I took the elevator downstairs to a gift shop and bought Dylan treats and flowers. I then walked across to a shopping center and grabbed Dylan something to eat. I figured because Tuck was still on a ship with no way to get home in the next week, she could use some pampering. Then I went up to the maternity ward, where I was informed Dylan’s room was at the end of the hall.
My feet pounded down the corridor, anxiety sifting through me. It was close to midnight, and I felt like I’d been awake since the dawn of civilization. I found Zeta sitting on a blue plastic chair in front of a door, sniffling into a ball of used tissue.
“Hi, Mrs. Casablancas!” I dropped the gifts and flowers to the floor, stacking my hands on top of her knees as I squatted down to reach her eye level. “Is she okay?”
She nodded, blowing her nose raucously. “Out of the delivery room. She had a C-section. Both mother and baby are healthy.”
Phew. “Are you okay?” I put a hand on her shoulder.
“Yes, honey, I think I am.” She looked up, resting a hand atop mine. “Just thinking. Wishing, really. That Dylan is with the right person. I love my children more than anything else in this world, but I had them with the wrong person. I always thought I needed to stay so they’d have both parents. I wouldn’t wish that upon her.”
