Page 20 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

“When?”

He frowned at the screen and tabbed the cursor to a new line.

“Stevie, you literally never go anywhere. It isn’t⁠—”

“I’m fine. I like it here.”

“And is this about Becca?”

“Is what about Becca?”

“You becoming a hermit.”

“Nothing to do with her.”

Stephanie snorted.

“The house didn’t like her. It scared her off.”

For a few minutes, the only words that passed between them were romance titles and authors as the shelf slowly filled with seventies and eighties Harlequin paperbacks.

“You do know it wasn’t the house or the bookshop she wasn’t good enough for, right? If the house was bitchy to her, it was only because she agreed with me that Becca wasn’t good enough for you.”

“Since when do I need approval from a house about who I date?”

“Even Jake didn’t think she was a great fit.”

“I also don’t need either of your permission, as it happens. Any more than Jake needed ours.”

“Of course not.” She left the box of books to sit on the arm of the chair across from him. “But you shouldn’t have to fold yourself into origami to please a girl. You’ve made yourself so much smaller to make room for her, and that isn’t right.”

Steven leaned his head on his backrest. “Jake said something like that, too.”

“He did?”

“He said I wasn’t me anymore. That she took up too much of my space.” He smiled, remembering. “Of course he compared it to Lucy, because with him, everything is about Lucy. Apparently, she lets him be as big as he needs to be and it’s never too much, but she doesn’t crowd him when he feels like curling up.”

“Like I do.”

“Well, he didn’t say that.”

“Out loud.”

“Steph, you’re the only mom he really remembers. You’ve tried to protect him.”

“Well.”

“It’s hard to let go, but it’s time, and for what it’s worth, I think you should pull the trigger on that house. You deserve something nice of your own.”

“What about you, though?”

He sighed and sat up. “I like it here. I like the shop. I like this life.” He stood up, dumped the few books that were left in the box onto the table and hefted it. “Want to help me pack up Becca’s stuff?”

“Fuck yes.” She jumped to her feet. “Can we burn it?”

“No. But you can bring it by her work tomorrow for me when you drop off the deposit. I thought I’d want to do it, for closure, but you know what? I’m done with letting her take up any more of my life. She doesn’t want what I want, and never did. Took me too long to see that.”

“Thank fuck,” Stephanie muttered.