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“No one can promise that. Especially in real relationships.” She sighs. “Not that I’ve seen great examples in the past. Certainly not my parents. Before Lo and Merritt, I had little hope for marriage and life-long love. But even with my sisters and their husbands, who are wonderful—there’s always the eventuality of hurting people. Especially the ones you love.”
I process her words, realizing the wisdom in them. “Hurt, sure. You’re right. But heartbreak? You don’t think your sisters’ relationships will last? Even though my parents’ marriage left me with no small amount of cynicism, I think Hunter and Jake are in this for the long haul.”
“I agree,” Sadie admits. “But even the best relationships can hurt us. Probably more deeply, because when we love big, the stakes are higher. That’s why I’m so scared.”
I squeeze her hand. “Because you know this will be good.”
She squeezes back. “It’s why you can’t promise you won’t ever hurt me.”
Sadie pulls her hand out of mine and leans forward across the table, walking her fingers up my arm until she lightly grips the back of my neck. Her touch sends pinpricks of heat erupting across my skin.
“Which means you should be afraid of me too,” she says.
“Believe me, I am.”
Though we’re talking very seriously, somehow this lightens the mood, and we both laugh before Sadie drops her hand, and our server brings out our main courses. Sadie went with buttermilk fried chicken, and I got braised short ribs. Our conversation lulls as we eat and share and rave over the food.
Which is, as I knew it would be, amazing. It’s rewarding to watch Sadie experience it for the first time, probably the same way I did when my mom brought me here. Though I was young enough I probably shoveled the food in my mouth rather than simply savoring.
I’m hit with the sudden realization that my mother would have loved Sadie. The knowledge is bittersweet.
Though we’re both stuffed, it’s a moral imperative to have dessert at Magnolia’s, so we split the Caramel Apple Crisp with its signature bourbon caramel sauce.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” Sadie asks, distracting me as she licks caramel sauce from the tines of her fork.
I let out a strangled chuckle, trying to tear my gaze away from her mouth. “Actually met? Or the time I commandeered your sister’s video chat with you?”
She laughs. “The video chat.”
“How could I forget? I’ve never had such a riveting conversation about paint colors and roof shingles.”
“From what I remember, you were incredibly obstinate,” she says.
“How about we go with passionate?” I counter.
“We can go with that. But whyareyou so passionate about Oakley? I mean, I love that you are. I love Oakley, and I know you’re the biggest reason why it’s still a charming little beach town and not some campy touristy place like other beaches in the South. But I’m not going to lie—trying to fit Benedict King, island owner and historical preservation expert into the same box with playboy Benjy is breaking my brain a little.”
My jaw tightens. Never have I wanted to get rid of the ridiculous reputation I’ve cultivated more than I do right now. “PlayboyBenjydoesn’t need to be in the box at all.”
“Then why, Ben?” she asks, the conversation suddenly taking a serious turn. “I read all the articles on Google. I know the tabloids don’t always get it right, but I’ve seen the photos. And I heard the things Ana and Jasmine said about you with my own ears. If that isn’t who you are, why does it seem like you worked really hard to make everyone think that it is?”
I play with my napkin, creasing it in half, then into fourths, then unfold it and start over. “It started with needing to make myfatherthink that’s who I am.” I look up and meet Sadie’s gaze. “The wealth in my family is largely from my mother’s side. My father is successful, but notsuperyachtsuccessful. Because of the stipulations of my mother’s will, he isn’t allowed to touch any of the money she left to me. But if I grow that money into something else, invest it somewhere and make a profit, there’s nothing to keep my father from going after it. I mean, there’sme.But I don’t even want to deal with him asking. And I definitely don’t want him lurking around Oakley, lookingto freeload when he did so little for my mother when she was alive.”
“So, the bad boy reputation is to make your father think you’re sitting around, frittering away your mother’s money? Does that mean thatisn’twhat you’re doing?”
My mouth twitches, and I rub a hand across my face and clear my throat to keep from laughing. “Did you just say the wordfrittering?”
“It’s a good word,” she says without missing a beat. “Don’t criticize my language choices to keep from answering the question.”
There’s a fire in her eyes, but it’s one that I like. Because she isn’t afraid to challenge me on this—to challenge me onanything.
“You know I have Oakley,” I say, “but there are other things, too. I’ve made investments in several tech start-ups that look really promising and in a biotech firm focusing on clean energy. I’m always looking for responsible places to invest or for causes that warrant support.”
“And you don’t tell anyone,” Sadie says, holding my gaze.
“Some people know.”
“And others just believe the image.”
