More Than Anything

by Kimberly Lang

  Curran Towers had been his first choice of places to live in Miami. A set of older buildings that dated back to the fifties, meticulously renovated and restored to feel both modern and retro. It was close to the office, convenient to everything, and perfect. It also had a waiting list of over two years, minimum. He’d put his name on the list simply as a laugh and put down a deposit at another apartment building that had been able to guarantee him a unit in January. “You do?”

  “We have had a unit suddenly become available. You could take possession as early as December first and be all settled in before the holidays.”

  “December first?” he echoed. “That’s next week.”

  “I understand it’s very short notice, but you implied you were very flexible in your current living situation and could take possession quickly if we had an opening. I’m sorry if I misunderstood.”

  He was having a hard time catching up to this conversation, and Leslie’s tone was turning testy. “No, no, you didn’t misunderstand. I’m just thinking of the logistics . . .”

  “We do have other people on the waiting list—”

  “I realize that. You just caught me off guard. Of course I’ll take it.”

  “Wonderful! Is the e-mail address we have on file for you still good?”

  “Yes.” He couldn’t believe his luck, like the planets had suddenly aligned in his favor.

  “Great. I’m sending the paperwork, tenancy agreements, and all that to you right now. It will include the instructions on how and where to send all your deposits. We will need to receive those within forty-eight hours in order to hold the unit for you. There’s also a schedule of available days for move-in. With everything going on with the holidays, there are blackout dates, so take a look and let me know what day or days are good for you. Welcome to Curran Towers.”

  “Thanks.” He was left holding a dead phone, still processing what had just happened. That apartment had been a long shot at best. Having it fall into his lap like this seemed to be a good omen. People normally didn’t move right before Christmas. But now, he’d have plenty of time to settle in, learn his way around, even get his office set up first instead of hitting the ground running while still living out of boxes.

  He should probably e-mail Charlie tonight, letting him know the new arrival date. He might be able to start a little earlier than planned, maybe even catch the office Christmas party.

  He’d lost some of his enthusiasm for the move and the future under the inertia of his stay in Magnolia Beach, but now that it was imminent, all the excitement came rushing back. This was finally happening.

  But damn, that suddenly gave him a hell of a lot to do. He could easily set up an online transfer to make the deposits to the leasing company. He’d need to call the other apartment people and tell them he wasn’t coming. Even though the deposit he’d given them might be nonrefundable, he’d take that hit. It wasn’t a huge amount of money, and Curran Towers was a much better place. Granted, he was losing a bit of money on the slip rental, too, by leaving ahead of schedule, but it wasn’t that much in the grand scheme of things.

  It might not be too late tonight to get in touch with the movers and his storage facility in Chicago to get that scheduled, but if it was, that would have to be the very first thing on his to-do list tomorrow.

  Packing up the Lady Jane would be easy enough—he didn’t have that much stuff—but he needed to let Thomas’s family know that they could arrange for the boat to be picked up whenever. Maybe Shelby could help—

  Shelby.

  That brought his spinning brain to a screeching halt. A feeling of dread settled around him at the thought.

  It didn’t make a lot of sense. It’s not like Shelby didn’t know he was going to Miami—even if she did think that would be another month from now. He wasn’t breaking her heart or a promise. They were never supposed to be anything more than exactly what they were, and they’d never even pretended that they were more than that. This had had an expiration date right from the very beginning. The timetable might be accelerated, but the situation hadn’t changed.

  Then why the dread?

  It wasn’t that he dreaded telling her because he was worried about what she might say or how she might react.

  He just didn’t want to tell her. To have to tell her.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. He just didn’t want to say good-bye, either. At least not now. Knowing the day was coming was one thing; he was supposed to have another few weeks to ease into it—a natural progression to the inevitable end.

  Since it was an inevitable, already-planned-for end, why did the timetable matter?

  Maybe it was just because he was having a good time. Enjoying himself. Had he not gotten involved with Shelby, he’d be ecstatic that his time in exile had come to an end. This was his ticket out of here, a free pass out of this limbo and into the rest of his life. No more waiting.

  And yet he was kind of sad, too. He’d miss it—all of it. Not just Shelby, but Magnolia Beach, the people he’d met and even sort of befriended . . .

  Good Lord, this must be what Stockholm syndrome felt like.

  But he still dreaded telling Shelby.

  He grabbed his groceries and climbed out of the car. Shelby’s Jeep wasn’t in the parking lot—he hadn’t planned to run and tell her this second or anything, but it still felt like a reprieve.

  And speaking of Shelby and the marina . . . On top of everything else, he needed to finish up with that, too. He couldn’t create full-scale plans or anything for her, but he did want to make sure she had a strong presentation to take to her family and, when she was ready, to a draftsman who could work with her.

  It wasn’t entirely for Shelby, either. He wanted to see this work out. It was a small thing, a project of little importance beyond the boundaries of Magnolia Beach, but it was important to Shelby and her family, and he wanted it to work. He wanted it to happen, even if he wouldn’t be here to see it. It was proof his time here hadn’t been wasted, a chance to leave his own little mark on the place.

  But most importantly, Shelby wanted it, and for that reason alone, he wanted her to have it.

  So he had a hell of a lot to do in a very short amount of time. But right now, he’d promised to cook for Shelby tonight, so that had to come first.

  While the galley and gear on the Lady Jane were limited in both size and scope, he was able to put together a salad and potatoes and set a decent-looking table. He was no Martha Stewart, but he could cook a meal and serve it on something better than paper plates. He wasn’t completely hopeless.

  Shortly after the meat hit the grill, Shelby appeared, casually dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and wearing her elf hat over hair that was still a little damp from the shower. “Oh, that smells so good,” she said by way of greeting. “I’m starving.”

  He felt a small twinge of guilt when she rose up on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss, even though he really didn’t have a reason to be. “Nice hat, by the way,” she added.

  He had forgotten he was wearing it. “Thank you. And these steaks won’t take long. Why don’t you go in and open the wine.”

  “Will do.”

  When he came in with the steaks a few minutes later, he found Shelby on the couch, eyeing the table. “This is very fancy. Cloth napkins and everything. I feel a little underdressed.”

  “You seem surprised that I can set a table.”

  “Not surprised. Impressed. What’s the occasion?”

  He couldn’t ask for a cleaner opening. “Honestly, when I told you yesterday that I’d cook tonight, there was no occasion.”

  “But there is now? Are we celebrating something?”

  He set her plate in front of her. “In a way. I got some good news today.”

  Her face lit up. “I like good news.” Even with the opening right there, Declan still hesitated at the moment
of truth. “Well?” she prodded with a laugh. “Are you going to tell me, or will I have to guess?”

  “There was an apartment in Miami that I was really interested in. Just a great building, great space, really convenient to everything—perfect for me. But a lot of people want to live there, and they keep a waiting list. Today, they called and offered me an apartment.”

  She seemed genuinely pleased. “That’s excellent. Definitely a cause for celebration.”

  “Yeah. But . . .”

  Shelby’s nose crinkled up. “There’s a ‘but’? Yikes. I hate the ‘but.’”

  That’s what worries me. “I guess it’s not really a ‘but.’ It’s more of an ‘and.’”

  “Okay . . .” She sat up a little straighter. “And?”

  He took a deep breath. “It’s available December first. I mean, I can take possession as early as the first.”

  “The first? That’s next week.” She seemed surprised, but that was all. Just a blink of surprise, but nothing else—and he was watching pretty closely.

  “I know that’s almost a full month earlier than I planned . . .”

  Finally, her eyes showed concern—but it seemed it wasn’t for the reason he thought. “Is that a problem?”

  I guess not. He’d braced himself for nothing. “Logistically, it can be done. It’s a lot that has to happen in a short amount of time, though. I thought I’d have a couple more weeks, not days . . .”

  “But that’s great news,” she insisted. “You’ll be able to get all settled in before the holidays—ooh, I bet their New Year’s Eve celebrations are epic.”

  “Probably very epic.” He should be pleased by her enthusiasm, but it was jarring, especially after all the angst and dread of the last couple of hours . . . “I don’t have to take possession right on the first, but they only allow people to move in on certain dates in December because they don’t want the tenants disturbed during holiday parties and such, but I’ll need to do it early in the month . . .”

  “Of course. Plus, it will be good to have some time to learn your way around and find your footing before you have to start work.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well,” she said, lifting her wineglass. “Here’s to your fresh start and new life in Miami. I know it will be awesome for you.”

  She is taking this well. But what had he really expected? They had an understanding, and this was part of it. Shelby was holding up her end perfectly, so any disappointment on his part was out of line. He’d thought she cared, at least a little bit, but he’d obviously invested more than she had. That was his bad. “Thank you.”

  “And let me know what I can do to help. Don’t worry about the Lady Jane. Just tell the owners to let me know when they want to pick it up, and I’ll make sure it’s ready to go. I even know a girl in town who’d give it a good deep clean, if you want, before you return it.”

  “That’d be great, thanks.” As odd as it was—as selfish and wrong as it was—he was starting to get a little annoyed that Shelby was cheerleading this so hard. Hell, she seemed one second away from grabbing a box and starting to pack for him. That kind of hurt. But what did he want? Her tears? He wasn’t that much of a jerk.

  “I will be sad to see you go, though,” she admitted, playing with her wineglass. “I know Magnolia Beach isn’t really your kind of town, and I know you’re probably really ready to leave, but I’m glad you came through here.”

  Maybe that was the best he could hope for. “Me, too. We should eat before it gets cold.”

  Shelby dug in with gusto, complimenting his cooking as she ate, acting as though nothing had changed.

  But even though it irked him, he had to admit that nothing actually had changed. And maybe that was why it bothered him so much. Nothing had changed, really. The temporary layover was done, and he was moving on.

  Except now he was going to miss her when he did.

  * * *

  Shelby waited until Declan’s slow, even breaths told her he was asleep. Carefully untangling herself so as not to wake him, she eased off the bed and dressed. Tiptoeing out, she walked quickly back to the main building and took the back stairs two at a time into her apartment.

  And only then did she let the knot in her stomach pull tight and take her breath away. She sagged against the door, then slid down it to the floor when her knees gave way.

  Four years in the Magnolia Beach High School Drama Club and a lifetime of Southern repression had served her well the last couple of hours. She’d had no idea she was such a good actress. She’d kept her surprise and hurt to herself and been as perky and supportive as she possibly could. It had nearly killed her.

  Get a hold of yourself.

  She had no right or reason to react like this. She’d known since day one that Declan was leaving, she reminded herself. This wasn’t exactly a surprise or anything, even if it was sooner than expected.

  But that rationale didn’t loosen the knot in her stomach at all. If anything, it pulled tighter.

  I will not cry. She swiped at the dampness around her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn’t some weak female who shed tears over a man leaving her. Screw that.

  Plus, that would just be stupid. Declan was just a guy, just a fling. It wasn’t like he’d made her some kind of promise or led her on. In fact, he’d explicitly told her from the very start that he wasn’t offering her anything but a good time. A temporary good time. If her feelings were hurt now, it was just her own damn fault.

  They’d had some fun and now it was over. Life would go on, just as it had been before he came.

  The problem was, she liked her life kind of like it was now. It was better somehow.

  Maybe that was just the hormones and hurt talking; there hadn’t been anything wrong with her life before he woke her up in the middle of the night six weeks ago. She’d been happy, perfectly fine, and satisfied.

  But it still hurt.

  Cupid padded over to her, nuzzling the side of her face in concern. She wrapped her arms around Cupid’s neck and took a deep breath.

  Six days, give or take. Maybe even a week, and then Declan would be gone. She could keep up the happy face that long. She certainly wasn’t going to be some kind of weepy weakling, acting like there was something more than what there really was.

  She had her pride, if nothing else.

  Six days, though. Part of her believed it would be so much easier if he’d just leave now. Rip the Band-Aid off quick and fast rather than drag this out for nearly an entire week. But she did still want those six days to enjoy what she could—even if she would be internally divided the entire time, therefore keeping her from fully enjoying them. Of course, he could have just packed up and left next week without giving her any warning at all, which would solve the Band-Aid issue, but moving up his departure date without telling her would have hurt her feelings, too.

  Damn it. There just wasn’t anything easy about this. No way to split it where it didn’t suck.

  She took a deep breath. This wasn’t supposed to suck. This was supposed to be like any other tourist boy she’d ever gotten involved with—brief, intense, and done.

  Maybe the problem was that this hadn’t been brief enough. You could get to know someone only so well when they were around for just a week or so. The timeline on this was just too long going in, and it had given her too much time to get invested.

  So yeah, this was probably for the best. If it hurt this much now, another month in his company would be a real recipe for heartbreak.

  But how she was going to smile and act normal for the next six days . . .

  That she didn’t know.

  Chapter 15

  “You cut your hair.” It wasn’t much of a greeting and Shelby didn’t like the accusatory tone in her own voice, but damn, she almost didn’t recognize him when he appeared at her door, ready for their last trip to the Bai
t Box.

  “Yeah,” Declan said, running his fingers through what was left. “I was long overdue.”

  “I like it,” Shelby lied. The short cut threw his cheekbones into sharp relief, and it looked good, but there was a knot in her chest. Although he was still casually dressed, Declan no longer looked like himself—or at least, the Declan she knew. This look was very much Big City Professional, upwardly mobile and ready to master the universe. It was too easy now to picture him in a coat and tie, and that just drew a stark line under the truth: Declan didn’t belong here, not in Magnolia Beach, and so he was leaving, going back to where he did belong.

  But she wanted to weep for the soft, silky locks she’d loved to weave between her fingers.

  It was silly, and she forced the emotion back into the box. For once in her life, she was keeping everything under strict control, watching her words and expressions, carefully making sure no one—especially Declan—had any clue she wasn’t happy, supportive, and perfectly freakin’ fine. There would be no gloomy countdown dramatics from her.

  She was determined to make the most out of the time they did have left. Life was too short and unpredictable not to make the most of good things. And Declan, as much as this was hurting her, was a good thing.

  It wasn’t much of a going-away party, but it was the best she’d been able to put together on such short notice, just a bunch of people at the Bait Box. Which, she realized as she surveyed the place, was not that much different than any other night they’d come here. There just wasn’t a lot of variety to be had in Magnolia Beach, and she felt bad she couldn’t do something more.

  But Declan seemed to be having a good time. Even Jamie and Adam were being friendly—she couldn’t hear their conversation, but it seemed appropriately manly and such with the posturing and backslapping that kind of thing entailed. Even Eli had been participatory, challenging Declan to a game of pool and losing before wandering off to a corner with his phone again. The boy had recently taken up texting like it was a second job. She should probably find out what was so—