Page 71 of Marry Me Tomorrow
“Actually, he just wants to talk to me—alone.”
Jenny nods. Her brows furrow briefly, but then her face softens into a smile. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“Yeah,” I say, but I’m not sure. “Mom’s coming here to have dinner with you so you’re not alone. I hope that’s okay?”
“That’s fine. I love Maureen—she’s been so sweet to me.”
“Maureen, huh?” I tease, raising an eyebrow.
Jenny swats my arm lightly, her laugh like a burst of sunlight. “Yes. She told me to stop calling her Mrs. Hughes now that we’re married, but it still feels a little strange.”
“I get it, and if you’re okay with the plan, I should probably wash up and head out soon. Hopefully, it won’t take too long, and when I get back . . .” I nervously shuffle my shoe against the wooden floor. “Maybe we can talk? That is if you are up for it.”
Her gaze softens. “I’d love to.”
Before I lose my nerve, I lean down and press a soft kiss to her lips. Her whisper of “See you later” follows me out, and it takes everything in me not to turn back.
The marina is quiet as I step onto my boat, the gentle lapping of water against the dock soothing my restless mind. The cool evening breeze carries the scent of pine and the faint scent of gasoline from the boats. The engine hums to life, and I steer toward the open water, passing the cove that hides our little house. Through the shadows of twilight, I can see the contractors’ trucks and scaffolding. The sight is bittersweet—it’s progress, but it reminds me how far we still have to go.
The lake stretches before me, its surface rippling with the faintest reflection of fading sunlight. The cool air brushes against my face, easing the tension in my shoulders. By the time I pull up to my parents’ dock, I feel a little more centered. As long as this conversation with Grandfather goes as smoothly as the last one, I have nothing to worry about.
Dad is waiting on the deck, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. “Hey, son,” he says, his voice gruff but warm. “Your mom just left, but she sends her love. You hungry?”
As if on cue, my stomach growls loudly, and we both laugh. “I guess that’s a yes,” I say.
Dinner is a quiet affair. My father, never one for small talk, doesn’t add much to the conversation. Grandfather stays uncharacteristically silent. The weight of the unspoken lingers in the air, but every time I bring up his summons, he brushes it off with a wave of his hand. “Let’s just enjoy dinner.”
So I update them on the marina. I fill them in on how well the rentals are going and how we are almost done getting the stumps for the clearing Jenny and I got married in, now named Cherry Blossom Grove. I also explain how we’ve done some minor renovations on the barn to allow for better wedding receptions and parties.
Dad and Grandfather are intrigued by the idea. Both of them want to see Cherry Blossom Grove once we get the set up complete.
After dinner, Dad excuses himself, mumbling something about catching the game on television. That leaves Grandfather and me. We retreat to a parlor room, its wide windows framing a beautiful view of the backyard sloping gently toward the lake. The room is still warm from the day’s sun, and the faint scent of jasmine wafts in through the open sliding door.
I glance at my watch. It is getting late.
“I know you’re itching to get back to that sweet Jenny,” Grandfather says, his gravelly voice tinged with warmth. “But I’m thankful you came tonight.”
“Of course, Grandfather.” I try to focus on the lake, its surface now a deep indigo, reflecting the last streaks of fading light. The familiar scene usually comforts me, but tonight I feel restless. I know these waters like the back of my hand. But no amount of certainty out there could prepare me for what Grandfather says next.
“Son,” Grandfather begins, his tone unusually soft. “I want to apologize to you.”
The words hit me like a gust of wind off the lake, sharp and unexpected. I turn to face him, studying his expression. Grandfather isn’t a man who apologizes often—or at all, really. So why is he starting now?
“I should never have forced you to get married in order to inherit the marina,” he says, his voice thick with regret.
For a moment, I forget to breathe. The weight of his admission, so out of character, settles heavily in the air between us.
After a pause, I manage to say, “You didn’t force me exactly, Grandfather.” My voice falters slightly. “Jenny and I love each other.”
“Codswallop,” he says, shaking his head. “We both know the marina was your life, and if that clause hadn’t been hanging over you, the thought of marriage wouldn’t have crossed your mind.”
I stare at him, unsure how to respond. This is not the conversation I’d envisioned when Mom relayed his summons earlier. Did he know Jenny and my marriage was only a ploy to ensure I got the marina?
“I was blinded by my love for my Winnie,” Grandfather continues, his voice trembling slightly. “I just wanted you, or whoever took over the marina, to have what we had. But I see now I might’ve done more harm than good. And you’ve done a remarkable job running the marina. I know that married or not, you would give your heart to that place.” His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he looks at me. “Can you forgive an old man, son?”
I swallow hard, my throat tight. “Of course, Grandfather. I know you didn’t write in that clause out of malice. And . . . it means everything to me to hear you think I’m doing a good job with the marina. I’ve always wanted to make you proud. But there’s something I need to apologize for too.”
Grandfather looks at me, surprise on his face.
