Page 61 of Vow

“Mae doesn’t want you to sell the club, and uproot your entire life just because she’s sick, Haven,” Neil said, refusing to let this go. “She also wants you to keep living your life. It is not your job to take care of us—we can do that. We have been doing it just fine ever since we left New York.”

But wasn’t that exactly her job?

“Could we talk about this another day?” Haven asked.

When her father wouldn’t let something go, then deflecting onto something else was Haven’s next best defense. She was sure her father knew that she was doing exactly that, but he wasn’t likely to call her out on it.

“For the record,” her father said, “my opinion on this isn’t going to change just because it’s a new day, sweetheart. Neither will your mother’s opinion. It’s more stressful on Mae to think that you’re giving up things you love for no other reason than you think she’s dying. Do you understand that?”

Haven hesitated.

She hadn’t, actually.

That one was new.

“I don’t think Mom’s dying …”

“You don’t sound very convinced,” Neil replied.

Yeah, shit.

“I just want to help,” Haven settled on saying. “That’s all, Dad. I need to help.”

“You can help by living and being happy. That’s what we want the most, sweetheart.”

If only it could be that simple.

Haven knew it wouldn’t be.

• • •

“Take five,” Jackson said as he slid behind the bar.

Haven gave the man a side-eye that could rival the Devil’s. “Does it really look like I have time to take a five-minute break?”

Jackson was quick to take the mixing shaker out of Haven’s hands, and his posture said that she was not fucking getting it back anytime soon. Goddamn him.

“We also need to keep people coming into the club, Haven,” Jackson said. “And you’ve snapped at the last three patrons who came up to order drinks.”

Had she?

Jesus.

Usually, she didn’t mind busy nights. They were the best kind to work, frankly. Tonight, however, seemed to be the night when literally everything was willing to test Haven’s very kind patience. She blamed it on the visit with the realtor earlier, and then the call from her father. After all of that, she really wasn’t in the mood to put on a happy face, and serve already drunk people more liquor.

The littlest things put her in a bad mood lately.

“Take five,” Jackson repeated firmly.

No room for argument.

Haven nodded, defeated. She was quick to slip around the bar, and head across the club’s floor. She barely passed the girls working their pole a look, and she didn’t even bother to stop and say hi to a familiar face she recognized sitting at one of the far tables.

Before long, she was closing the door of her office, and dragging in a deep breath. Putting her back to the wall, she counted back from ten, and willed her nerves to relax. It should help. It always did before.

It didn’t this time.

Haven pushed away from the door, and dropped into the chair behind the desk. Maybe what she really needed more than anything was a fucking vacation. Time away from just being.