Finding Forever: A Bluebird Bay Novel

by Christine Gael

  It was one of those mundane chores that he'd never even have thought of a year ago and would have fallen to her to take care of. As much as the sentiment warmed her heart, it also tightened the knot of guilt in her belly.

  "Nice touch, indeed," she said softly, nodding.

  Gabe's brow creased as he shot her a concerned glance. "You're looking tired. I know it's been a long day with a lot of stress. Why don't you get out of that dress and change into something more comfy while I pour us a glass?"

  She cleared her throat and blinked back a hot rush of tears. "Yeah, good idea. Be back in a sec."

  Happy for the excuse to be alone and pull herself together, she made her way into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. For a long moment, she leaned against it and let all the emotions of the day wash over her. First came joy, bolstered by the knowledge that she'd found her soul mate. Gabe not only loved and cherished her, he also respected her, supporting her dreams to pursue interior design in spite of the extra money for classes. He was a hard worker and an amazing boat captain, and he made her laugh harder than anyone she'd ever met. The way he treated the people he loved, especially his mom and his sister Max, had let her know in no uncertain terms that he was a family man through and through.

  Sasha winced as she recalled the expression on Max's face when she'd seen her bridesmaid dress. Her newly minted sister-in-law had made no secret of her distaste for the yellow number, but with three others women in her wedding party, one of whom had been her bossy cousin Clarissa, Sasha hadn't found any that pleased them all and had wound up flipping a coin between the two she'd liked best.

  Max's least favorite had been the winner. What with the lingering tensions between she and her sister-in-law after Sasha had broken up with Gabe last year for those few months, Sasha might have even fudged the results in Max’s favor if she’d had the chance. Unfortunately, Clarissa had been present during the flipping of the all-powerful coin, and would never have let her hear the end of it if she'd changed her mind. On top of that, Clarissa was one of her few remaining family members, and despite them not being overly close, family mattered.

  Not that things were bad between her and Max. On the surface, they were fine. In fact, Sasha was pretty sure Gabe had no idea there was any friction there at all. Sasha knew, though. Max and Gabe fought like...well, like siblings who were close in age and crazy about each other, but at the end of the day, they were best friends. And regardless of the reason, Sasha had still hurt her brother when she'd broken it off with him.

  Gabe had forgiven her.

  Max had not.

  Not fully, at least.

  And once Sasha's secret came out, Max's mistrust would only deepen. She might even hate her. The question that haunted Sasha most though...would Gabe?

  "I just realized, you hardly had a chance to sit at the reception and you barely touched your salmon. You want me to call down to room service for some real food?" Gabe called through the door.

  She stepped away from the door and began unfastening the row of tiny, pearl buttons down the front of her gown before replying.

  "Um, n-no. I filled up on the canapés during the cocktail hour. I'll have a couple of the berries, though."

  "Okay."

  His dress shoes clicked against the floor as he walked away and she slumped in relief.

  This was ridiculous. She should just yank it off like a band-aid and get it over with. What was the worst thing that could happen?

  He could leave you.

  Her fingers trembled as she finished with the buttons and let the silky fabric of her dress slip over her hips to pool on the floor.

  She was still standing there in her bra and panties when Gabe walked in a moment later, sans tie, white shirt unbuttoned at the throat.

  He paused, eyes gleamed as he stared at her, and then let out a low, wolfish whistle.

  "Man, oh man, am I a genius or what?" he murmured, holding out one of the two crystal flutes he'd brought into the room.

  "Well, you are," she agreed with a half-smile as she accepted the glass. "But why especially now?"

  "Because I found you and I was smart enough to make it official before you realized that I'm getting the better end of this deal," he said with a crooked grin. He held up the golden, bubbly liquid, face growing serious now. "I freaking love you so much, Sash. And I thank God every day that you agreed to be my wife. To us."

  He held his glass high and she followed suit, touching hers against his with a musical clink.

  "To us," she whispered, a wave of nausea rolling over her, and she pressed the cool crystal to her lips and pretended to sip.

  More deception.

  What a terrible way to start out a life together.

  What a terrible way to start out their partnership…

  What a terrible mess.

  3

  Max

  This must be what rock bottom feels like, Max thought, her mouth dropping open as she read the notice again – once, twice, three times. The sign just glared back at her from its place on the front door, as if challenging her.

  Yeah, it seemed to say. That’s right. You’re done. So what are you going to do about it, Max?

  It was a great question, and she had no response. She clenched her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms as a combination of disbelief, sadness, and yes, anger, crashed down on her like a tidal wave. She had paid her rent on time every single month, dipping into her personal savings to keep the doors open when, for months on end, she’d failed to turn a profit. She had kept the place neat, never bugged the landlord about petty issues, and had gotten along perfectly well with the other tenants in the strip mall. She had been the perfect renter.

  Then again, business was business.

  Still, it didn’t make sense. It was true that the landlords who had leased her the space had sold the place three months earlier, but they had assured her up and down that the deal wouldn’t change anything for Max. They’d said something about the ownership transferring to an out-of-state investor who was more than happy to let the current tenants stay as long as they complied with the terms of the lease.

  Apparently, that was just lip service, and the proof was staring her right in the face.

  Her heels still killing her, Max hobbled up to the front door, tugging the notice down with nearly enough enthusiasm to tear it. She dug in her purse for her keys, finally found them, and let herself in, hoping that she could at least think things over in some kind of peace. But as soon as she stepped into the shop and turned on the lights, the smell of the books hitting her and the bookshelves beckoning, she realized she couldn’t take another step. Instead, she let the door fall closed behind her and slid onto the floor, her butter-colored bridesmaid dress billowing out around her.

  Damn, it felt good to sit down. Stretching her legs out in front of her, Max tugged her shoes off, sighing with relief when the straps finally stopped digging into her ankles. The wine bottle she’d stashed suddenly felt like too much work. She would rather just sit here and let the ambience of this place – the place she had worked so hard for – and the terror of losing it wash over her.

  What was she going to do now? Her mom had given her some cash after Max had helped her clinch a televised cupcake competition, but she’d used it to expand her offerings to include wine and an extensive rare book collection to draw in new customers. Finances weren’t in any state right now to put a deposit down on a new place. Even if she found one, how would she get her feet under her again? Most of the regulars had found her place as they strolled from one store to another through the cobbled little area by the sea that made up downtown Bluebird Bay. Leaving would put her back at square one. She’d had a rapport with her customers, and that would take time to build up again. Besides, she liked it here. The location, the patrons, the view…

  With everything that had happened over the past year, between her own drama with her abusive ex, Robbie, Pop’s brush with death, Aunt Anna’s cancer, and what poor Aunt
Steph had been through, she really hadn’t been expecting to be kicked any more while she was down. She’d really been naïve to think things couldn’t get any worse for her after Ty left.

  She pulled out her phone to schedule an Uber with a groan. All she really wanted to do now was go home and weep.

  The sound of footsteps on the sidewalk outside the store pulled her out of her thoughts. Slowly, she got to her feet, not bothering to put her shoes back on, and glanced out the street-side window. By now, the moon was high in the sky, the light dancing off the waves in the distance, and most of the townspeople had either gone in for the night or moved to a livelier area of Bluebird Bay.

  A man dressed in a dark suit walked briskly passed, and Max wondered idly if he had come from the wedding, until he stopped abruptly in front of the next store down from Max’s…the florist shop. It was owned by an old, kindly gentleman named Mr. Bonomo, who often came into the bookstore during his lunch break to chat with Max in one of the overstuffed armchairs.

  By now, his shop was locked up tight, but that didn’t stop the newcomer from walking up to the front door like he owned the place, pulling an all-too-familiar-looking piece of paper out of his coat and taping it to the door.

  Max stared, slack-jawed, as the anger she had been feeling when she first saw the notice bubbled up inside her again.

  “That son of a…”

  She yanked the front door open and barreled out onto the moonlit sidewalk, shoeless and furious.

  “Hey!” she called, picking up the pace in spite of her aching feet. The man had already started to walk away from the flower shop and head toward the parking lot, but he turned around when he heard her yell.

  The first thing that she noticed was how tall he was – he towered over her, making her feel even more ridiculous than she already did in her Easter egg-colored dress. His eyes were dark, the same shade of mahogany as the curls on his head. His face was all chiseled lines and hard features. Still, his striking good looks didn’t change the fact that he was effectively destroying her livelihood.

  She marched straight up to him, swaying a little on her feet as a wave of unsteadiness surged through her, almost making her lose her footing and stumble off the sidewalk.

  “Hey!”

  “Uh, hey,” the guy replied, brow furrowing as she slowed to a stop in front of him. “Are you all right?”

  Max realized she probably looked like she’d escaped a Victorian-era asylum, with her messy hair and shoeless feet and ridiculous dress, but none of that felt important in the moment.

  “No,” Max replied, staring defiantly up at him. “No, I’m very much not all right, and it’s your fault.”

  She was already brandishing the notice at him, even more aware of the height difference as she craned her neck to glare up at him. She should probably be scared to go off half-cocked at a strange man – especially one his size – but the fear of losing her business far outweighed any personal concerns. That, along with her sadness over Tyler and the traumatic memories of the past year, had all mixed up together to make a bitter, alcohol-fueled brew of rage.

  This guy had picked the wrong time to mess with her.

  “I saw you putting one of these up on Mr. Bonomo’s place. And there was one on my door, too. I own that bookshop,” she shouted, jerking a thumb over her shoulder.

  “Right. Ms. Burrows, then.” He cleared his throat and shot her an assessing glance. “Listen, maybe you want to address this with me in the morning.”

  “I will address it here and now, thank you very much,” Max fired back. “You’ve completely screwed me over, dude.” She shook the notice at him again. “Do you have any idea just how… just how…” She blinked, feeling a little woozy. Maybe she had been moving too fast. Peering at him through narrowed eyes, she fought to clear her swimming head. “You just go around ruining people’s lives, is that it? You’re a professional life-ruiner.”

  “Am I?” the man asked, crossing his arms. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face, making him look even more handsome, and Max hated how attractive he was. She hated herself even more for noticing. He had the kind of charismatic, unbothered coolness about him that probably made all the women in whatever stuffy boardroom or designer menswear store he’d crawled out of go crazy. Telling herself that was the alcohol talking, she fought off the blush that threatened to creep into her cheeks and stood her ground. The man glanced down at her bare feet.

  “Yup. And I’m here to tell you, I’m not giving up without a fight. I’m way tougher than I look.”

  His lips twitched again as his gaze traveled over her. “Well, that’s not saying much, because you look like a tooth fairy that went on a bender.”

  Her mouth swung wide as she tried to think up a snappy comeback. “Yeah, well, if I was your tooth fairy, I’d take your tooth and wouldn’t even leave you a dollar, because you’re a bad, bad man.”

  Her threat clearly didn’t have its intended effect, because he scoffed. “Be that as it may, I’m not going to discuss business matters with an intoxicated female in a tutu. Now, if you need me to, I can call someone to give you a r--”

  “For your information, this is a bridesmaid’s dress,” Max replied, “I just got back from a wedding, Mr.…” She frowned, realizing she didn’t even know the man’s name. It might have been on the notice, but she’d been too upset to read that far.

  The man sighed and crossed his arms before replying, “Thackery. Ian Thackery.”

  Even through the haze of alcohol, Max recognized the name, and her mouth fell open. Her mind reeled as she took in this new information, sweeping him with her eyes. His suit was designer, and impeccably tailored, his shoes spotless and recently shined. On his wrist was a watch – a Rolex, no less – and not a single hair on his head seemed out of place. Realizing she had been gaping wordlessly at him, Max met his gaze again.

  “Thackery? Ian Thackery? Of the North East hotel mogul Thackerys?”

  Any remaining hint of amusement on his face evaporated in an instant, his expression going icy as he stared down at her. He was stiff as he gave her a curt nod before replying, “Guilty as charged.”

  Of course it was Ian Thackery, because why wouldn’t it be? Come to think of it, she shouldn’t have been expecting anything different. You’re really on a roll this year, Max, she thought to herself, giving the man another once-over.

  Unable to help herself and fueled by the champagne, Max began to giggle. It was a harsh, bitter, almost hysterical sound that pierced through the strip mall parking lot and probably made her sound like a banshee, but she didn’t care. This was all just too perfect. The Thackerys’ property holdings stretched all the way down the Atlantic seaboard, and they owned more than half the hotels in the state of Maine alone. They were old money, powerful, and this strip mall was no doubt the next stop in their mission to glamorize Bluebird Bay.

  And Max? Max was just some nobody bookstore owner who could barely afford to pay her bills. What could she possibly say that would stop this from happening?

  A trust-fund millionaire with pockets deep enough to squash any shot she had at fighting this would be pulling her last leg out from under her.

  Figured.

  Max took a wobbly step towards Ian, jabbing a finger into his chest. Her lips were far past loose, at this point, and she didn’t give a rat’s crack.

  “Have you ever had to work for anything, Mr. Thackery?” she asked. “Anything at all?” He opened his mouth to reply, his brow furrowing, but she pressed on. “Have you ever put your heart and soul into something, tended to it like a baby bird? Have you ever laid an egg and thought, ‘yeah, I made this. I worked for this. This is mine’?” Spreading her arms out, she continued, voice wavering a little, “Have you ever raised it, and taught it how to fly, and… and chewed up worms and spat them in its mouth just to keep it alive?” Ian raised an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe not that part,” Max conceded, “but, like, all the other stuff, and now you’re finally seeing it fly, and then some rich butt
-munch shows up and slaps it out of the air with his…his giant sack of gold?”

  Ian’s jaw clenched, but even when she closed one eye to see more clearly, she couldn’t tell whether it was in anger or barely-controlled laughter, and that only made her madder.

  “No, of course not, because you’re just someone who… who bought your bird from the pet store! And now you’ve come to steal my bird, too. And that’s the truth about people like you, Mr. Thackery. You just grab people’s birds and take them,” she said, snatching her hand in the air and closing her fist for effect. “That’s what you people d--”

  But her tirade was cut short as she went tumbling off the edge of the curb, her legs flying out from under her. She hit the rusty blue bumper of a pickup truck and bounced off, but before she face-planted onto the pavement, Ian was there, hauling her up to standing.

  “Geez, are you okay?” he demanded, and the concern in his voice was enough to give her pause for a moment.

  She was about to shake him off when a refreshing breeze rolled over her bottom. Her eyes popped wide as she craned her head over her shoulder to see the tattered remains of the bottom half of her dress. The thing had split in the back from the hem to the waist. Her ass was more or less on display, along with her dingy, last in the drawer pair underwear.

  Kill me now.

  Apparently, Ian noticed at the same time she did, and held the dress closed as he helped her onto the curb.

  Her face went molten hot and she pushed him away.

  “I’m fine,” she snapped. “And I don’t need your help.”

  She was still trying to figure out how to make a graceful exit when, as if fate finally got the memo that she’d suffered enough for the day, a grey car with an Uber sign on the windshield pulled up to the sidewalk.