Page 118 of The Trouble with Flings

“Wonderful,” my mother says. “The hunt will be absolute mayhem. You’ll love it. Stick with me and the other ladies while Fitz is running around trying to find the golden eggs.”

Jennifer looks curiously at me. “Golden eggs?”

“It’s tradition. The grown kids always help the little ones, and moms get to take a break.”

“Don’t worry,” my mother says. “You’ll love the other ladies. We’ll tell you all of Fitz’s most embarrassing stories.”

“Mom,” I warn.

Jennifer laughs softly, and my mother looks at her like she’s found an ally, which spells trouble of the very best kind. My father catches my eye over their heads and gives me the same look he’s been giving me my entire life.

The one that says he sees more than I’d like him to.

He didn’t get where he is by glossing over situations, and he’s too wise to hold my feet to the fire in public. But I know what he’s thinking. He raised me to believe that integrity and self-respect come second only to respecting others. Right now I’m sitting at about seventy percent. The other thirty percent is coming soon, and when the time comes for us to reveal our truth, I’ll own one hundred percent of it.

Chapter Thirty-One

Jennifer

Today was the kind of day that makes you believe in true, lasting happiness.

With the exception of that little white lie he told his parents, from the moment we stepped into the Sweet Barista this morning to the unexpected warmth of meeting his parents at the furniture store, every moment with Fitz made me want more.

The afternoon was just as perfect. We shared scallop rolls and a plate of fries at a little waterfront café in Seaport, the salty breeze tangling in our voices over delicious bites and stolen kisses. Then we knocked around the town, exploring all the cute shops and visiting the fish pier, where Fitz insisted that in order to truly appreciate the scallops we’d eaten, I needed to meet several hardworking fishermen, many of whom had gone to high school with Fitz. And then there was Goldie Gallow, the spirited older woman who runs a bed-and-breakfast at Gallow Pointe. She had us both in tears from laughing so hard as she recounted stories of Fitz as a young cookie thief at community breakfasts. But the best part was going back to his place, where what started as a foot rub turned into something far more intimate, leaving us tangled in the sheets, sated and sleepy.

Now, as the sun dips lower in the sky, Brant and Cait’s backyard is alive with conversation and the scent of grilled burgers. I wondered if it would be overwhelming to meet more people tonight, but Keira and Indi swept me into their circle the moment Fitz and I arrived. Eventually we all came together, and Fitz was quick to claim me, which I didn’t mind at all.

Now the guys have migrated back to the grill, and I’m nibbling on chips and salsa by the bonfire with Keira, Leni, Cait, Tessa, Randi, Jules, and Victory, Wells’s fiancée. Wells and Victory surprised everyone by showing up tonight instead of tomorrow, and I’m glad they did.

I like Victory a lot. She’s my age, and she owns a hugely successful entertainment company in Manhattan. I like Wells, too. He’s younger than Fitz, but like Jules and Grant, and the other couples I’ve met here, he and Victory are so in love, they have me wondering if Silver Island men are a different breed than most.

“I told Raz last week that I needed a reset. That’s why we came Tuesday instead of yesterday,” Leni says. “The city was just—” She makes a sound, a mix of exasperation.

“I know that sound,” Victory says. “That’s my every-six-weeks sound. I’m so glad Wells and I decided to split our time between the city and the island.”

“At least you have the island when you need a reprieve,” Cait says supportively.

“Honestly, I don’t know how anyone lives in the city.” Randi sips her wine and says, “I’d lose my mind around all those people and traffic.”

“You lose your mind when you have to spend a week away from the water,” Tessa says.

“True,” Randi says with a grin.

“Randi’s a marine archaeologist,” Keira explains. “She spends most of her life underwater with Ford Kincaid, one of the hottest guys on the island.”

“What about you, Jen?” Jules asks. “Do you like living in the city?”

“Yes, very much. But I’ve always thrived on its fast pace.” Although lately, spending weekends with Fitz makes me wish we could slow down time. My stomach twists as I debate revealing that. I glance across the yard at Fitz holding Stevie, rubbing noses with him. Stevie’s little hands are clapping against Fitz’s cheeks, his giggles ringing out, and Fitz is absolutely beaming. My heart squeezes as he jokes with his brothers and Jamison, Brant, and Raz. I wonder if they see in him what I see.

A natural-born nurturer.

Caretaking isn’t his kink. It’s the very heart of him.

“So did I,” Indi says, drawing me back to the conversation. “Until I didn’t anymore. I’m so glad I moved here.”

I look at the women who’ve welcomed me into their close-knit group and feel a trust that’s probably unreasonable after knowing most of them for such a short time. But there’s something about them, something real, that makes me want to share.

“I have to admit, I used to spend my weekends just getting through my to-do list, and after spending time with Fitz, I see the value of slowing down and enjoying every day instead of trying to accomplish as much as I can as fast as I can.”