by J. L. Berg
“A busy one,” I answered.
“Nooo,” she replied, letting the word drag until she was giggling senseless. “One with cold feet. So, maybe this is a good thing. Maybe he’s doing me a favor—sending me back into the dating pool. I mean, I’m a hot commodity around here. I know you’ve been gone a long time, but I can get another guy like that,” she said, snapping her fingers to prove her point.
Dear Lord, she was hammered.
“I don’t doubt that for a second,” I replied honestly.
“It could have been you,” she said. “But you left. And then so did Dean and my sister and everyone else. You remember Millie, don’t you? The younger, hotter version of me? Millie and Molly…good God, what were my parents thinking?”
“Silly Millie. Of course I remember her. She caught us doing it in your room one time, and I had to pay her ten bucks every week for the rest of the year to keep her quiet.”
She snorted, laughing loudly. “You’re kidding!”
Shaking my head, I joined in. “Nope. Quite the entrepreneur, your sister.”
“Probably suits her well in Florida, the traitor.”
Her words were spoken in jest, but I could see the subtle hurt in her eyes.
“She never was cut out for the simple life. Kind of like you.”
“I don’t know about that,” I replied. “I did a pretty good job of it for a while.”
She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed. “And do you love your new life? Was it worth it all?”
I looked around the grand old house, memories hidden in every floorboard and piece of furniture. The couple shots of whiskey I’d helped myself to were starting to kick in, and I felt the truth rising to the surface.
“Sometimes, I’m not sure,” I answered. “There are days when I truly feel like I made the right choice.”
“And the other days?”
“Those are the days when I step out into the waiting room and deliver the good news my patient’s family has been waiting for. I watch as they all huddle together, crying tears of joy in each other’s arms. They shake my hand and thank me for my hard work, and then I walk away. I go back home to an empty apartment, filled with things I don’t want or need, and I remember what it was like to have a family. A best friend. A soul mate.”
Her breath caught as she heard my words, and in that moment, I felt it.
The connection.
The need.
The ache I’d had for twelve long years without her.
I didn’t know who’d lunged first. Her or me. But, the moment our eyes met, she was in my arms, and I was in hers. Our lips connected in a frenzy of lust and desperation.
“You taste like whiskey,” I groaned as her fingers wove through my thick brown hair.
Her teeth tugged at my bottom lip as all thoughts vacated my brain, and I acted on impulse. My hands found the hem of her shirt. Her legs straddled my hips.
And, suddenly…like a runaway train hitting a brick wall, I came to my senses.
Not like this.
Never like this.
“Molly,” I said, my breath heavy. “Mols, we can’t do this. You don’t want this, believe me.”
She pulled back, heat and ire written across her face, as her chest heaved.
“Don’t you dare tell me what I don’t want, Jake. You are not in charge of me. You don’t own me.”
She moved off me, and the loss of her flesh on mine felt like some sick, tragic comedy. I’d pushed her away, and now, all I wanted was her back in my arms.
Walking to the edge of the living room, she stopped briefly. “This meant nothing,” she spit, tears running down her cheeks.
“No, you’re wrong,” I countered as my finger brushed along the place on my lips where she’d bitten me. “It means everything because it proves that there’s no hope for either of us if I continue to stay here. We’ll just end up broken and hurt all over again.”
“Then, I guess you should leave.”
I nodded, a wave of sadness rushing over me. “I’ll be gone by morning.”
She didn’t respond, and instead, she walked away. I listened to her footsteps echo down the hallway, toward her room, limping the entire way because she was too stubborn to use the crutches anymore.
I savored every sound, every moment she was still near.
And then I did the only thing I seemed to be good at when it came to Molly McIntyre.
I left.
THE SUN PEEKED ITS HEAD through the clouds, sending a bright beam of light directly through my bedroom window.
“Fucking sun,” I groaned, feeling like death warmed over.
It had been years since I drank straight liquor. A rum and Coke? Sure. Wine? Hell yes. But straight whiskey from the bottle? That was something I’d attempted in high school and quickly given up right after. I was not a fan of hangovers.
The problem was I didn’t have an off button. I just kept going. Like the damn Energizer Bunny.
Binge-watching Netflix? Sleep in till noon? Nope. I was a get-up-at-the-crack-of-dawn-and-get-shit-done kind of girl. I didn’t have time to nurse hangovers and spend hours on the couch.
There were people depending on me.
Well, most days.
Today, however, as I pulled myself out of bed, I realized I was in a completely empty house.
No guests.
No family.
No Jake.
Just me and a pounding headache.
And then the doorbell rang.
“Who the hell comes visiting at—” I checked my watch. Ten in the morning? I’d slept in until ten in the freaking morning?
I did my best to smooth out my hair and settle my queasy stomach before I got to the door. I then said a quick prayer, begging God for mercy.
If this could just be a salesman or something, I’d really appreciate it. Anyone, except my mother. Or a guest. Okay, thanks.
Pulling open the door, I felt a mixture of relief and shock as a young blonde who nearly mirrored me in every way stood at the threshold.
“Millie!” I screamed, reaching forward to pull her into a giant bear hug. “Oh my gosh, what are you doing here? And why are you ringing the doorbell? This is as much your house as mine!”
She pulled back, smiling. “No, it’s yours now. Besides, I didn’t want to barge in”—she looked me up and down, clearly judging my appearance—“and interrupt your busy morning.”
I rolled my eyes, stepping aside so that she could drag in all the suitcases she had sitting behind her.
“It’s a long story,” I explained, taking my own judgmental appraisal of my appearance in the foyer mirror. “Good God, I look like hell.”
“I hear there’s a good reason for it.”
Her face said it all. Sympathy, understanding, warmth.
“Jesus, who told you?”
“Mom,” she confessed. “She called last night after getting a phone call from Mrs. Sutherland. Dottie was a mess. She felt terrible for what that boy had made her do.”
“So, you’re here for what? Reinforcements?”
“Obviously. After all, when you suffer a breakup, who better to pick you back up again than your sister? Mama thought she’d step back for once and let a professional handle this one.”
I gave her a long once-over. She’d most likely flown an early morning flight or a red-eye to get here, and she looked like she’d just stepped off the runway rather than a stuffy plane.
Where had all this sophistication come from?
“I can’t believe she called Mom,” I said.
Millie followed me to the living room. The bottle of whiskey I’d plowed through was thankfully gone.
But the memories weren’t.
I swallowed hard as my body remembered exactly what had transpired.
A bit of heat, some pent up lust and a whole lot of bad decisions.
Yep. That about summed it up.
“What do you expect?” she said, taking a seat on the couch beside me. “She was worried about you.
It’s not like she wanted to come over here and spring this on you, and why wouldn’t she call Mom? Her and Dottie have been the best of friends for ages.”
“I know,” I agreed. “But I’ve barely had a chance to process it, you know? One minute, I’m engaged, and the next, I’m handing back the antique ring I was given to my fiancé’s mom. It’s just a lot to take in. I thought I’d have at least a day before it spread across the island.”
Her hand fell on my shoulder. “I doubt it’s gone that far yet.”
I gave her a dubious stare. “Really? Because even Jake didn’t seem surprised when I sprang the news on him last night.”
My baby sister’s eyes lit up. “Hanky-Panky Jakey?” she said, suddenly looking around. “He’s here?”
“No,” I instantly replied, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me. “I mean, yes, he’s here on the island. But not here, here,” I explained. “And that is a terrible nickname.”
She laughed, a lovely lilt that I couldn’t emulate if I tried. It perfectly matched her designer jeans and blouse, as if she’d handpicked it right off a runway in Paris.
I’ll take that gorgeous silk blouse and the angelic laugh, please. Can that be delivered?
“It’s a joke between us.”
“I heard all about the lucrative deal you made with my ex. No wonder they call you the shark at work.”
She smiled wide, like a Cheshire cat. “He helped pay for my summer wardrobe that year.”
I rolled my eyes. “Who are you? Clearly not the lanky brat of a sister I had who once spent an entire night up in the trees just to prove a point to Mom and Dad.”
“The very same, and they had it coming.”
“Do you even remember what you were fighting for?” I asked, remembering my tiny sister way up in the tree with her pillow and stuffed unicorn.
“The slaughter of pigs, I believe. Mom served ribs one night, and a guest commented, saying it was the best hog she’d ever tried. Mom had never told me where meat came from. I felt like my whole life was a lie.”
“You didn’t last long. I seem to remember someone chowing down on a barbeque at the Fourth of July festival the following month.”
She shrugged. “Sleeping in a tree is no fun, and I realized I didn’t care much for protesting. Or being a vegetarian. I’m much more suited for the finer things in life.”
“Apparently.”
We continued our small talk, catching up on each other’s lives and whatnot. She’d been promoted within her company, taking on another territory.
“My goal is to one day gain parts of Europe. Wouldn’t it be awesome to travel to Spain or England for a career?”
“I guess,” I replied. “But doesn’t it get old? The never-ending flights and hotel stays?”
She shook her head. “I love it. My day is never boring. I’m not sure if I could ever adhere to a fixed schedule. I love being on my toes.”
“You always were the adventurous one,” I said, smiling at another memory of that pigtailed darling dangling above me in the old oak tree.
“You’re adventurous,” she insisted. “Look at this place! You took it all on by yourself. Even with Dad’s help, Mom could barely keep up. I don’t know how you manage.”
“I have no life; that’s how.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here!” she announced proudly.
“Oh, no,” I said, holding my hands up in a desperate plea.
I knew what my sister’s idea of fun was, and after last night’s hangover, I wasn’t sure I could handle any more.
“Oh, come on, Mols. This is why I’m here—to pull you out of this obvious funk you’ve drunk yourself into and to remind you how fun it is to be single!”
“I don’t want to go out into town today. Everyone will look at me with sad eyes. Poor Molly. She got dumped again.”
“Please,” she said. “With me in tow, no one would dare do such a thing. Besides, would you rather skulk around here all day?”
I looked around at my house, the place where I spent nearly every waking moment.
Cleaning, cooking, and bookkeeping.
I was exhausted.
“Sure,” I finally answered. “Why the hell not?”
“That’s the sprit!” Millie hollered. “Now, let’s go get you decent.”
Pulling on my hand, she dragged me toward my room, hell-bent on a makeover of epic proportions.
Dear Lord…I could use just a bit more help.
“So, this is day drinking?” I said, holding up my beer bottle. It was nearly half-empty, and I could see the blue horizon of the bay through its crystal-clear glass.
“Please tell me this isn’t your first time grabbing drinks during the daylight hours.”
I shrugged. “Does sneaking shots of vodka from the liquor cabinet after school count?”
She shook her head, a light chuckle under her breath. “God, you missed out on a lot.”
“That’s what happens when you don’t go to college.”
“You could have,” she pointed out. “You were accepted all over the state.”
“I know, but after…” I paused, remembering the lengthy fight I’d had with my parents.
“What do you mean, you’re not going?” my mom said, a look of horror flashing across her face.
“I mean, I’m not going,” I repeated. “Not everyone goes to college.”
“You think I don’t know that?” she shouted as my dad looked on in pure shock. “But you, of all people, owe it to yourself to try.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why me, of all people?”
“Because you’ve worked so hard for it. All those late nights of studying to make the grades. And the tears when you opened those acceptance letters. How can you walk away now?”
I shrugged. “Because I just don’t want to go.”
“Is this because of Jake? Because he left?”
I held up a hand, hating the sound of his name on her lips. “This has nothing to do with him,” I insisted. “I just think I’m better suited here.”
The hope died from her eyes in that moment. Every wish for a better life for me vanished as she realized my inevitable fate.
I was never getting off this island.
“After graduation, I just realized it wasn’t the right path,” I said, finishing my thought. “Besides, if I’d left, I probably would have married the first frat boy I saw, and then who would be running the inn for Mom and Dad?”
“I’m sure they would have worked something out. You’re not responsible for all of us, you know.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure?” she pressed, taking a sip of her own beer.
She’d changed clothes before we left the inn after forcing me into a gorgeous coral-colored dress from her bag. It was low-cut and short and made me feel all sorts of uncomfortable.
But I had to admit, it didn’t look half bad on me.
“I’m sure,” I said. “I mean, I know Mom and Dad would have found someone to take the inn on if it wasn’t for me, but I love what I do. Honest.”
“I know you do. It shows in the house. But try not to forget, a job isn’t your entire life. You have to have more.”
“I did have more. I had Dean.”
She gave me a look that said she didn’t believe a word coming out of my mouth. “Did you really? I mean, you guys were together for, what? Four years? And you were no closer to the altar yesterday than you were when you first got together.”
“Yes, we were,” I argued. “We were engaged!”
“With no plans for a wedding.”
I let out a small huff. “No, you’re right. It just never felt like the right time.”
“Perhaps because you were secretly waiting for something…or someone?”
I gave her a hard stare “Jake? I have not been waiting for Jake. Believe me. Especially now.”
Intrigue painted her face. “What do you mean, especially now?”
“I can’t believe Mom didn’t tell you.”
> “Tell me what?” she asked.
“Jake was sort of staying at the inn. Well, until last night.”
Her interest piqued, she leaned forward, hoping for all the juicy details. “Oh my gosh, you totally slept together!”
My face blanched. “We did not!”
“Okay, but something happened.”
A flash of that singular moment from the night before came reeling back. His skin, so hot and familiar. The heavy breaths that floated between us. His—
“Whatever is going on in that head of yours right now…can I borrow some? ’Cause damn.”
Her words brought me back to reality.
“It meant nothing,” I said, repeating my words from the night before. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Good, so you won’t mind me inviting those sexy tourists to our table?” She pointed to a group of guys two tables over.
One of them, a seriously smoking-hot surfer type with sun-kissed hair and dark skin, gave her a smooth smile. I felt my insides flip upside down.
“Sure,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster. “Why not?”
Millie gave me a look that suggested she didn’t quite believe me, but she quickly replied, “Great. I’ll go invite them over.”
I was in awe of her confidence, her swagger. She rose with no hesitation, the sexy green halter dress making her stand out like some exotic creature out in the wild. Her hair, pulled into a loose side braid, blew in the breeze, tossing tiny pieces of blonde hair around her face. The messy look somehow only enhanced her beauty. No doubt she was the envy of every girl in a ten-mile radius.
I listened in as she approached the men. Their faces lit up the second she appeared, like they’d suddenly stumbled upon an angel. She leaned over, annoying the crap out of me as she flaunted her assets—one in particular. The men stared up at her in wonder, laughing, as she casually asked them where they were from. Her North Carolina drawl, something she usually watered down since moving to Florida, was out in plain sight.
“New Jersey,” one replied. “Out for a bachelors’ weekend.”
“Oh, and which of you handsome gentlemen is getting married?”
The three of them pointed to the fourth, a gangly sort of guy who reminded me of a kid I had gone to school with. He was the nicest guy in the world, but when it came to anything outside of a textbook, he was horribly awkward. The same could be said for the groom-to-be. He smiled up at her with a sheepish sort of grin, but held back when his friends were all but drooling by now.
