I sat at my desk tapping a pen to my lip as I stared blankly at my computer screen. There were at least fifteen things that required my attention, but I couldn’t focus on any of them for more than five minutes. At least the store was operating with the exquisite precision of a ship at sea. Daily operations rarely needed my attention because Mary-Ellen was the Chief Officer, Second Officer and Third Officer all rolled into one. The sales associates respected her, but I think they were also secretly afraid of her, which is why there were very few slip ups on her watch.
Sales were up three percent since opening day and we could hardly keep up with the demand for the leather moto jackets and circle skirts we carried. Dressing like a French woman was a hit in The Harbour. I was making a statement here. Professionally, everything was falling into place, better than I ever dreamed. Personally, that was an entirely different beast.
Knock, knock.
Tiffany appeared in my doorway smiling and holding a glossy pink envelope in her hands, along with my afternoon tea order from the bakery. At eighteen, Tiffany was my youngest employee. She was bubbly and was very good with the customers. She had mad add-on skills and knew how to accessorize a look to perfection.
And it didn’t hurt that she was a member of a highly respected and well-connected family, which was good for business. The Buchanans owned half of The Harbour and it seemed as if they were a small elite army of sorts. Tiffany’s immediate family tree was filled with marriages, divorces, re-marriages, and that was just her father. Not only that, she had half-siblings and step-siblings out the ying yang.
“Ella, this package arrived for you.”
I took the envelope along with my tea. “Thank you, Tiffany.” I noticed she had a tattoo on the inside of her right wrist, an adorable black bow, tiny and tastefully done.
“When did you get your tattoo?”
She ran her index finger over the ink, and smiled. “Last weekend, my friends and I, we all said that we would get one as soon as we all turned eighteen. It was Fiona’s birthday last Saturday—oh, she’s my best friend and the last one in our tribe to turn eighteen so that’s when we did it.”
My brows rose. “Your tribe?”
She laughed, and tilted her head to the side. “Oh, sorry, that’s just another way of saying group of friends.”
“I see, that’s cute and your tattoo is lovely. Why did you choose a bow?”
“Thank you,” she replied with a smile. “It might sound dumb, but I read somewhere that bows signify love and femininity. I just thought of it more as another accessory like a bracelet or ring. Do you have a tat?”
“Me, a tattoo? No, but I’m giving serious consideration to the idea.”
“Well, if you want to get one, I’ll go with you.”
“Thanks, Tiffany. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay, gotta go. I need to get back on the floor.” She pivoted and headed towards the stock room.
“Have fun.” My eyes dropped to the envelope on my desk.
“Talk to you later, bye,” she chirped, as she raced past my door with a stack of sweaters.
Smiling, I shook my head, and then took a sip of my tea. Flipping over the envelope, I noticed the return address was Manhattan. I didn’t recognize it though. Using my letter opener, I sliced through the pink paper.
It was an invite for Holliday’s birthday and the event was going to be held at Lorenzo’s in Manhattan. Further down the invite I noticed it said that I could bring a guest.
I let out a deep sigh. If only I had someone to bring.
I picked up the phone and hit the intercom for the cash wrap. “Hey, Tiffany, on second thought, take your break now. We need to discuss that ink issue.”
“Okay, Ella, I’ll be right there.”
MY PREVIOUS MENTAL SNAP, breakdown or whatever you wanted to call it landed me at the western edge of Fiji on the Yasawa Islands. The islands are only accessible by boat or kayak. To say the twenty or so islands that made up the chain were sparsely populated was an understatement. No roads, no cars or banks. The resorts serve as the only source of income to each island.
After twenty-four hours of travel, I was exhausted and I decided to stay on Barefoot Island. I hiked, swam, snorkeled and spent a lot of time in the hammock outside my bure that was thirty feet from the beach. It was probably the worst idea of my life to stop there first. Turning off the noise in my head was a challenge.
After three days of being alone with thoughts that I couldn’t escape, I hopped on the boat and headed north to the Blue Lagoon resort. I needed some modern conveniences and human interaction. Another mistake—surrounding myself with couples in love. Worse yet, honeymooners.
After several drinks, I called my therapist and found very little satisfaction in telling her that this was a fucking terrible idea. Additionally, I told her that I wanted back every penny that I ever paid her and thanks to her idiotic suggestion, I was more miserable than when I’d left.
She laughed, and told me to take back the control. It was up to me to decide how to heal and get back to neutral. How the fuck was I supposed to do that?
Now, I found myself sitting on the patio of Ethan’s beach house, staring out at the waves on Lake Michigan, pondering the same question. The leaves had begun to change and hints of fall started to crackle in the air, despite the fact that it was eighty-two degrees in mid-September.
As I took a swig from the beer I was drinking, I heard the door to the patio open. Craning my neck, I expected to see Ethan, but instead Amy appeared.
“Hey, sis.” I stood, and then pulled her into a hug.
Amy had been coming by most evenings while I’d been staying here, always bringing food and making dinner. It was all unnecessary, but she insisted. I glanced at my watch, it was just after four and she made very good time leaving Grand Rapids for South Haven on a Friday.
“This weather is unbelievable, but I’m still making lasagna for dinner tonight.”
My sister designated all meals for certain seasons of the year. Lasagna was a winter meal, but anything after Labor Day was fair game for comfort foods. Any day now she’ll be making butternut squash soup and cheddar penne pie with apples.
“You really don’t need to do that. I was going fire up the grill and make burgers.” I popped off the cap of a bottle of beer and handed it to her. “Wait, are you eating meat these days? Or is that not allowed?”
She waved me off and dropped into one of the chairs. “Yes, I am eating meat. If my memory serves correctly, I recall you grilling on a December evening one year with a snowstorm on the way.”
I laughed. “To be fair, it was fifty-five earlier that day.”
“The Midwest, the only place where you can experience all four seasons in one day.”
Her phone rang and she stepped inside to take the call. Silence surrounded me once more, and I watched a large tanker in the distance as it glided through the pristine blue waters. The color reminded me of Ella’s eyes. My fingers scratched at the curve of my jaw, I’d let my beard grow in. For a moment, I allowed myself to wonder how Ella would like it.
“I went to see my psychic the other day,” Amy informed, before taking a long sip of her beer.
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know why you listen to that horse shit.”
“Always a skeptic.” She shook her head. “I listen because it brings a different perspective into my life. I like Michele’s wisdom, and she has helped me to solve countless problems just by re-framing the issue.”
I peeled the label from my bottle. I didn’t know what to say, I stayed quiet hoping Amy would move on to another topic of discussion realizing that I wasn’t interested.
“Michele invited me to sit in on one of her group discussions. The topic was love and fear.”
My brows rose. “Oh here we go.”
She turned to face me. “Just listen, this makes sense. The core of the conversation centered on the fear that one will lose love or never be viewed as lovable. Most of the time when we have a probl
em in our love life the root cause is fear.”
I stared at her blankly. “Yeah, and?”
“Michele told us that love and fear should never share the same energetic space.”
I shoved a hand through my hair. “Get to the point, Amy.”
“Look, Alex.” She pushed to her feet, and smoothed her ponytail. “I am well aware that you think I am a bit of a whackadoo for seeking the guidance of a psychic. I am sure you roll your eyes when I read daily affirmations and recite mantras. I know I don’t have all the details about what happened with you and the time you spent in the military, but I do have a pretty good idea that the reason you moved hundreds of miles away from your family and friends was to avoid Vince and Amanda because you fucked up. It seems to me that you need to get over yourself and your mistakes. Get back to The Harbour and tell Ella you love her—it’s as simple as that.” She slammed her beer down and headed towards the door.
Realizing I had pushed her too far, I stood and grasped her arm. “Hey, I’m sorry and I don’t think that you’re a whackadoo . . . a bit eccentric, maybe.”
“Alex, you’re my big brother and I love you, but you need to love fearlessly. Trust in the universe. Don’t you understand that you were fated to meet Ella? I believe you should spend time creating your destiny rather than running away from it.”
“What?”
“Yeah, you heard me,” she said, lifting a single brow. “Your first response is to run away from emotion. It’s become a pattern. When you came home from your military tour, you took off for three months, although that may have been warranted. When Amanda chose Vince, you escaped to New York. And now, you’ve left Ella behind instead of staying to work it out. You might fuck up and make some mistakes, but when you go away to ‘clear your head’ you’re not solving the problem.”
Did all of that make sense or had I been around Amy and her new age mumbo jumbo for too long? If I was being honest, she was right about the running away. It was possible that I wasn’t giving myself the opportunity to resolve my issues on an emotional level, which was probably why I couldn’t see past my guilt.
Amy grasped my shoulders. “All you have to do is ask yourself if Ella is worth the risk and if the answer is yes, then stop letting fear dominate love.”
I was beginning to think Amy was a mind reader. When this whole thing started, I had told Ella that she was worth the risk.
“You make it all sound so simple, sis.”
“I’m very wise.”
It had been almost six weeks and I still hadn’t arrived at any kind of clarity. No amount of time would explain why Sasha’s life ended that day. Like Sully said, no one blamed me for her death. Amanda, I was over her, so there was no need to rehash. She and Vince were happy and that was all that mattered.
Instead of me going away, perhaps it was time to send away the remorse, shame, and liability—all of it and lock it away for good.
GORGEOUS SHADES OF ORANGE and pink painted the evening sky. My mood was black, and it perfectly matched the ink lettering that now adorned my upper thigh. The tattoo had healed nicely, and I relished the pain when the needle pricked along my skin. The physical sensation was nothing compared to the ache in my heart.
I’d stopped counting how long Alex had been away. All I knew is that September was sliding into October and he had not returned to The Harbour, to his home or to me.
The Range Rover pulled up to the valet stand at Lorenzo’s and the door opened. I slid out, and then Marcus handed me the gift I’d brought for Holliday. I twisted the silver bow and used my fingers to fluff it up. Although my gift was pretty cool, nothing could top the fact that Ronan had our sister, Molly, develop a special fragrance for her. Molly sent me a sample to test out and I absolutely loved it.
“I’m not working tonight, but I’ll be around if you need me. I’ll be ready to take you home whenever you like,” Marcus said, as he opened the door.
“Thanks, Marcus, are you allowed to have a drink with me since you’re technically not working?”
He shot me a sideways glance. “You really want me to drink and then drive you to your hotel?”
“Fuck it, we can grab a cab or one of those Uber things people keep talking about.” I handed over my coat to the attendant. The place was empty, not a soul in sight.
“I’m not allowing you to get into an Uber.” He crossed his arms against his chest. “Have fun, and if I’m not inside, that probably means that I stepped out for a smoke.”
“You should really quit those cancer sticks,” I called after him. “They’re no good for you!”
He waved me off and I dropped my present off at the gift table. This was some spread. I stood alone in the doorway admiring the mini winter wonderland that lay before me. Tiny cupcakes with white frosting in silver foils lined the dessert table and there was a jar of sparklers off to the side. There was a candy bar with rock candy, pretzels dipped in white chocolate and blue and white candy cane sticks, and there was even a station to make s’mores. Everything around the room was layered in white, silver, and sensational shades of icy blues—even the candles.
“Would you care for a drink, miss?”
I turned around and came face to face with the same petite Asian gal I noticed at Ronan and Holliday’s party months ago. “Hi, I assume that there’s a signature cocktail?”
She smiled. “Does open bar sound like a good signature drink?”
I laughed. “Vodka soda with a twist of lime, oh, I have a gluten allergy, potato vodka please.”
She nodded. “Yes, I remember. I’ll return shortly.”
I sagged into a chair near the back, and I watched as people filtered in with their drinks. I felt my mood slipping deeper into melancholy and I should not be sad. This was a celebration. It still freaked me out that I was only seven months older than Holliday.
“Here you go, miss,” she said, placing my drink in front of me. “I’m Lila, by the way, and if you need anything just let me know.”
“Thanks, I’m Ella. Cheers.”
I sipped my drink, and watched as more people filtered in, including Tinley Atkinson and Matthew Barber. They had their hands all over one another. Fuck. It made me miss Alex. My phone vibrated. I had twenty notices from Snapchat, all Nabila. Aside from a few fashion designers, she was the only person I really followed.
Swiping my screen, I scrolled through the endless stream of pictures and videos. There were sweet images of her and Finn—laughing over coffee, making brunch, hanging out at her studio and the last picture was of the two of them holding hands and kissing under an umbrella in the rain.
She looked really happy. Bloody hell, this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here. Grabbing my drink and clutch, I stood in a rush. Before I took a step, the sound of clapping had me rooted to my spot.
Enter my brother and his gorgeous girlfriend, also known as the woman of the hour.
Stuck, that was my current position. Next, Charlotte breezed into the room and I only hoped I could maintain my composure long enough to talk to her about Fashion Week and her latest collection because I totally missed all the shows. I was otherwise occupied and too fucking busy pining away for a man that apparently just wanted me to live in his house while he was out doing fuck knows what. I downed the rest of my drink and before I knew it another glass appeared in front of me. That’s when I remembered she’d put me on the guest list for her show.
Oh, Jesus. She just saw me.
Bloody hell.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
That was the million dollar question.
She approached looking elegant in her curve-hugging, blood-red dress with her blonde hair swept into a classic chignon. “Ella, how are you?” She kissed both my cheeks.
“I’m doing well, thank you. And you?”
“Exhausted, but it’s all in a day’s work, right?”
I nodded and sipped some liquid courage.
She waved to someone across the room. “Keep smiling,” she whispered.
“When I hand you an invitation to attend my show for fashion week, I expect you to fucking be there. I could have opened a lot of doors for you, Ella. I trust you won’t make the same mistake twice?”
Fuck. Fuck. Charlotte Ricchetti hates me.
All the sweat from my body just seeped through my glittering gold dress. “I . . . I’m terribly sorry, Charlotte. I will do my best next time to RSVP. I swear I didn’t mean to blow off your show.”
“Do better than your best. This is a tough business and New York City is not for the faint of heart.” She hugged me, but I was scared there was a knife about to be plunged into my gut. Suddenly, I felt like Robb Stark at the Red Wedding.
Is this party over yet?
After we played with sparklers on the outdoor patio, I walked out to the main dining room and took a seat on a bench. I scrolled through my phone’s contact list and my finger hovered over his name. Tears welled in my eyes, between Charlotte’s not so subtle threat and seeing my brother in love and so blissfully happy, it was all too much. This was my breaking point. I sucked in a breath to hold the waterworks at bay, but the tears cascaded down my cheeks.
People gathered around the bar ordering more drinks. I swiped the tears away, and busied myself with a magazine someone left behind.
I flipped the pages and my eyes landed on a picture of Grady James wearing his polo attire. Oh God. The Stars and Stripes Polo Challenge.
My hand shook as I flipped to the next page. Several photos staggered the centerfold, including one of Alex and me standing at the bar chatting. I stared at the picture and my fingers traced over his face.
Tears spilled onto paper as I tore out the page. I shoved it into my clutch and then swiped my cheeks.
“Hey, Ella,” Holliday said as she took a seat on the velvet bench beside me. “You okay?”
Besides the fact that your sister was a huge bitch to me and I missed the man I loved more than anything? I’m fine.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said, plastering a saccharine smile on my face. “It’s a work problem I need to fix, but it can wait until Monday.”
Bound to Me (The Harbour Series Book 1) Page 21
