Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  I checked my phone. Still no answer from Zoe. I’d have to call her from San Francisco, and hope she answered. In the meantime, I had a flight to catch.

  27

  Zoe

  I went on a date tonight. It was fucking weird. I know it’s over and I didn’t do anything wrong. But it still felt like it should have been you.

  ~Text from Zoe, unsent

  It was not the first time I had a puking groom. But Victor Cockburn was going for a record.

  I stood outside the bathroom while his best man slumped in a chair wearing a pair of sunglasses and rubbing his temples. At least I knew the reason for the groom’s tender stomach wasn’t viral. If I had to guess, I’d have said tequila. A good tequila was a beautiful thing, but I was pretty sure these guys had not been drinking good tequila last night. Probably cheap tequila, and a lot of it.

  Kind of made me wonder if Cooper had been involved.

  “You should have a cup of coffee,” I said to the best man, Dirk. Victor Cockburn’s best man was named Dirk. Despite the raging bridezilla that was Victoria, this wedding was turning out to be rather entertaining.

  “I don’t drink coffee,” he said.

  “You do now.” I poured him a cup and added two packets of sugar and extra cream. “Here.”

  He took the cup and sipped.

  I’d already given both Victor and Dirk a tall glass of water and a dose of ibuprofen. I pitied the tongue-lashing these guys were going to get when Victoria found out how hungover they were. Why guys didn’t do the partying a few nights before the wedding, I had no idea. But it was amazing how often I had sick bridal parties after a night of heavy drinking.

  “How are you doing in there, big guy?” I asked through the bathroom door.

  Victor answered with a groan.

  I glanced at the time. We had just under an hour. It would be tight, but as long as Victor’s stomach decided to stop emptying for long enough to hold down some water, I’d be able to get him presentable by the time he had to stand up in front of his family and friends to get married.

  Poor bastard.

  My phone buzzed with a message from Jamie. She was working this wedding with me.

  Jamie: Bride wants an update on the groom’s readiness

  Me: Tell bride his tux looks great

  Jamie: Puking?

  Me: Yep. Bride status?

  Jamie: Destroying Tokyo

  I sighed. I wasn’t sure which of us had the harder job. Me, trying to get two overgrown frat boys ready in time for a very expensive wedding. Or Jamie, who had to field Cockring’s last-second demands.

  Heh. Cockring.

  But at least I was busy. After fighting with Roland before he’d left, I wanted to be busy.

  I felt bad for walking away like I had, especially since he had to leave. Now he’d be gone for a week—or two, or three, or who knew how long—and the last thing we’d done is fight. That was not how I’d wanted to leave things. I’d just been so frustrated, and I’d let that get the better of me.

  I’d replied to his text that he’d call—just said okay. I didn’t want to be an ass about it and not answer. But I didn’t want to text or talk to him on the phone. I was hurt, and angry, and I wanted to yell at him. Or maybe have a good angry-fuck and then yell at him.

  Things were always easier when Roland and I were naked.

  I blew out a breath and tapped on the door again. “Ready to come out yet?”

  Victor opened the door and I kept my face still. But the dude looked like shit. I had my work cut out for me.

  “Okay, Vic—can I call you Vic?—you did a number on yourself,” I said. “But I’ve had worse. I’m not going to lie, this is probably going to be both the best, and worst, day of your life. I’ll do what I can, but you’re going to have to pull yourself together.”

  He nodded and ran his hands through his hair.

  “All right, Dirk over there is sipping coffee, and I think that should perk him up well enough to get through the wedding. But I can see you’re going to make me work for it. Luckily, this isn’t my first rodeo.” I straightened his tie, then handed him a glass of fizzing Alka-Seltzer. “Drink this and let me know when you’re ready for step two.”

  We waited a few minutes to make sure he wasn’t going to puke up the Alka-Seltzer. Then I gave both men a glass of my emergency hangover smoothie. They looked at me like I was nuts. I couldn’t blame them, it was bright green.

  “Kale, lemon, ginger, cucumber, and pineapple,” I said. “Trust me. This works. Finish this, have some more coffee, and then another glass of water. And I’ll remind you to pee before the ceremony starts, because you’ll definitely need to.”

  I left Victor and Dirk to check on a few other details and when I came back, they both looked a little better. They had color in their cheeks, at least.

  I took my bag of man supplies out of a cupboard and started pulling things out. Deodorant, shaving cream, razors, clippers for stray neck hairs. I also had bandages, breath mints, a sewing kit, a Tide stick, several extra ties—bow and regular in assorted colors—beef jerky and a few mini bottles of Jack Daniels for my grooms who needed a quick shot of liquid courage to calm their nerves. I found what I was looking for and tossed them each a packet of pretzels. “If you think you can keep them down, eat these too. The salt helps.”

  “You keep all this stuff on hand?” Victor asked.

  “I like to be prepared,” I said. “Trust me, you’re not the first groom I’ve had to revive from the dead.”

  “You’re not going to tell Victoria, are you?” he asked.

  I gave him a reassuring smile. “Not a word.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “By the way, are you single? Dirk has a huge crush on you.”

  “Hey,” Dirk said, shooting a glare at Victor.

  I grinned at them. “That’s sweet, but I’m divorced and dating my ex-husband. You don’t want any of this drama.”

  Victor laughed—he probably thought I was kidding—and I was relieved to see his smile looked fairly natural. He’d do okay in the wedding photos.

  The wedding went off without a hitch. Or at least, without any hitches that I could have prevented. Dirk swayed on his feet during the ceremony, but thankfully he didn’t fall over. Victor held his shit together pretty well, although he did start to look a little green while he said his vows. Tequila or no tequila, I didn’t really blame him.

  Victoria cried so much her mascara ran everywhere. Apparently she hadn’t taken my advice to wear waterproof. I passed her maid of honor a small packet of tissues as they walked to the reception area so she could get her cleaned up.

  With the reception in full swing, my job was done. Jamie and a few other winery employees, as well as the caterer, would be here for the duration, but thankfully, I was free to go.

  Instead of leaving for home, I wandered into the small tasting room and sat down at the bar. It was impossible not to think about the night I’d had a drink—and done other things—with Roland in here. That hadn’t been very long ago, all things considered, but so much had changed.

  I thought about returning Roland’s call, but I wasn’t sure what to say. I needed time to let everything settle. Time to figure out what the hell I was doing. Hearing myself say it out loud—I’m divorced and dating my ex-husband—had been a little surreal.

  It was probably good that he’d gone back to San Francisco for a while. It gave us some space. Things had been happening so fast. Just a month or so ago, I’d been wondering how much longer he’d be around—trying to suppress my physical attraction to him. Now I’d plunged head first into a relationship with a man I thought I’d left behind for good.

  His words from earlier echoed in my memory. They’d been running through my head all day. Because you fucking gutted me. My world collapsed, and I didn’t know how to handle it.

  Leo’d told me Roland had been hurt when our marriage ended, but until I’d heard it from Roland, I hadn’t really believed it. And now that I knew, I wasn’
t sure what to think. It called all my assumptions into question. And it made me wonder what role I’d played in the demise of our marriage.

  It was easy to lay all the blame at Roland’s feet. He’d been the one who’d worked too much. Who’d been so consumed with upping his pay grade that he’d completely lost touch with his wife.

  But things like this weren’t completely one-sided—not always, at least. Maybe most of the fault had been his, but I’d played a part. He’d seemed surprised to hear me say I’d felt like he didn’t have time for me. It seemed so obvious, how could he not have known? But had I ever told him? We’d fought about his work schedule, plenty of times. But had I ever told him why it bothered me? Why I hadn’t liked how much he was working, or how it had made me feel? Or had I assumed he should know better, and kept silent?

  It was mostly the latter. Our arguments hadn’t been productive discussions where either of us were being heard. More like yelling matches that had never solved anything. We’d fought about things, not the real issues behind them. Canceled dinner plans. Late nights at the office. But we’d never dealt with the real problems running beneath the surface.

  I’d spent the last four years believing that our divorce hadn’t affected Roland. And it had led me to the conclusion that I hadn’t mattered to him. He’d chosen his career over his wife, and from what I’d seen, he’d been perfectly content with his choice.

  Now I knew that wasn’t the case. He had been hurt, and I had meant something to him. I still did, and he wanted to give us another shot.

  I did too. I really did. I wanted it more than anything. But I was afraid I was setting myself up for heartbreak. Leaving Roland had nearly broken me the first time. I didn’t know how I’d survive something like that again.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Shannon said from the doorway.

  “Hi.”

  She came in and sat next to me. “The wedding seems to be going well.”

  “I think so,” I said. “The bride was difficult, and the groom and best man were so hungover, I wondered if they’d be able to stay upright for the ceremony. But it all seemed to work out.”

  “I’m sure you had something to do with that,” she said.

  “Just doing my job.”

  “And you’re very good at it,” she said. “We’re lucky to have you.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Honestly, I feel like I’m the lucky one. All things considered.”

  Shannon smiled and reached out to squeeze my hand. “Zoe, can I be straightforward with you?”

  The way she said that made me nervous, but I nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

  “You’re going to wonder why I’m telling you this, but hang in there with me. I have a point.” She shifted on her stool. “I stayed with Lawrence for as long as I did because I thought I had to. At first, it was because of the kids. Roland was born less than a year after we were married. Ten years later, I had four. And I wasn’t just tied to him by our children. There was Salishan, too. I overlooked things I shouldn’t have because I was afraid of what would happen if I had to make it on my own.”

  “That’s understandable,” I said.

  “I suppose,” she said. “The problem is, I wasted a lot of time. And I was never really happy.”

  “You’re right, I do wonder why you’re telling me this.”

  She smiled. “I don’t want you and Roland to make the same mistake.”

  Involuntarily, I shrunk back. Was she saying she didn’t want me to be with her son? She’d never seemed to harbor hard feelings against me over the divorce. But maybe she didn’t want Roland and me to reconnect.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “You bring out the best in my son,” she said. “I’ve been seeing glimmers of him again—of the man I tried to raise him to be. And I know it’s because of you. I don’t know what’s happening between the two of you, and you don’t have to tell me. But my son loves you. And honey, if you love him back, don’t give up on that. I was unhappy for years. I don’t want any of my children to live the way I did. So, if you love him, find a way. Take the chance, and don’t let go.”

  I took a deep breath. “Wow, thank you.”

  She slid off her stool and held out her arms for me. I got down and stepped into her hug.

  “No matter what happens, you’re still one of mine,” she said quietly. “You always will be.”

  Tears stung my eyes, but I bit my lip to hold them back. I hated crying in front of people. “Thanks. But shut up.”

  She pulled away and laughed. “I hope you don’t think I’m trying to meddle in your life. But I’ve been realizing lately that not speaking up has a way of becoming a very bad habit. I’m working on breaking it.”

  “Good for you.” I took another deep breath and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Since we’re speaking up, thank you for keeping me around even though I divorced your son.”

  She smiled again, tears shining in her eyes. “Of course, honey. Besides, I always knew you’d bring him back to me.”

  28

  Roland

  It was late by the time I got to my condo in San Francisco. It was a clear night, and the lights of the city shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The view really was amazing. The city. The water. It was gorgeous.

  My house cleaner had kept her regular schedule, so the place was clean. She’d even emptied out the refrigerator before the food started going bad. Everything was as it should be.

  I wandered into the bedroom and put my bag down. Usually coming home after being away felt good. Relaxing. But this didn’t feel like home anymore. Nice as it was, there was no familiarity to it. I’d lived here for almost four years, but it was like the place wasn’t mine.

  Or maybe I was no longer the man who’d lived here.

  I’d tried to call Zoe, but it had gone to voicemail. She’d replied with a text, saying she was working. I wished I knew how she was feeling tonight. Mad at me, sure. I could handle her being mad if I knew I’d be going back with a chance to make things right. But I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure about anything, except that I fucking loved her, and I didn’t want to let her go.

  I was tired, but too keyed up to sleep, so I went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of wine. It looked like something I’d probably picked up for a night when Farrah would be here. God, I hadn’t thought about her even once since I’d broken things off with her. Had I really been dating her the last time I was here? It was only a couple of months ago. But it was hard to fathom, now. What had I seen in her? I didn’t know, but it didn’t matter anymore.

  I poured a glass of wine and took it to the couch. Turned on the TV. The wine was expensive, but disappointing. My mom’s wines were rich and full-bodied, with hints of flavor that reminded me of home. This one was mediocre at best.

  Which basically described everything about my life in San Francisco.

  It hadn’t seemed that way before. I’d thought everything was perfect. I had a great job, lots of money. Condo with a view. Nice car. What else did a man need?

  But none of it had made me happy. I’d been smugly self-satisfied with my position in life. My resume looked great. But I’d been alone. There had been a void inside that I’d kept trying to fill with things. With power and money. With prestige and respect. But it had never worked. It was never enough.

  I set my wine down and went back to the bedroom. In the closet, I found the box with Zoe’s wedding ring. I pulled mine out of my wallet and added it to the box with hers. I stared at them for a long moment. The city lights shone through the windows of the dim bedroom, glinting off the gold.

  Zoe was the only thing that had ever made me feel whole. When I was with her, the void inside me went away. She filled my empty spaces. With her, everything felt right. It didn’t matter what kind of day I’d had. How many hours I’d worked, or what I’d left unfinished on my desk.

  When we’d been married, I’d lost sight of that. Focused on the wrong things. I’d been so consumed with achieving and earning mo
re, I’d forgotten what it was to be content. To be truly happy.

  And I hadn’t been happy since she’d left me. At least, not until I’d gone home.

  As I stood in my two-million-dollar condo, staring at wedding rings that had probably cost two hundred, I realized something: This wasn’t home. Neither was Salishan Cellars, or Echo Creek. Home wasn’t my family’s land, or my mom’s house, or the town where I’d been raised.

  Zoe was home.

  She was home in every sense of the word. It wouldn’t matter where we lived, or where I worked. I belonged with her.

  I did want to step in and run Salishan. I was good at it—great, even—and despite years of telling myself otherwise, I enjoyed it. Being home had allowed me to reconnect with my family. Help my mom through a crisis. I’d realized how much I’d missed by being away. By letting resentment rule my life.

  But I didn’t resent Salishan. Not anymore. The only thing I resented was myself, for letting Zoe walk out of my life. I should have fought for her. I’d let her go, thinking there wasn’t anything I could do. I’d been hurt, and masked it with anger. Let anger lead. Just like my father.

  I was done with that. Done with letting resentment and anger permeate everything I did. Steal my chance at happiness. Zoe was my life, and she always had been. Regardless of everything else—my career, the winery, my family—I was going to find a way to make things work with Zoe. I couldn’t let her go again.

  So what the fuck was I doing here?

  There wasn’t anything for me in San Francisco. And if I stayed—if I kept my job here and split my time—I’d be just as busy as I’d ever been. Maybe more so. Zoe had been right to call me out on it. Just because I’d been juggling things for a while, didn’t mean it would work long-term.

  What would that life be like for her? She’d see me when I was in Echo Creek. But then I’d constantly have to leave her. The pressure to be here at least half the time would be huge. I wanted to believe I could find a way to make it work, but I kept coming back to the same question—why?