Maybe We Will (Silver Harbor)
Page 30
“Me? No. I’m far too conservative. But I know what your old man would say.”
That piqued Aiden’s interest.
George met his gaze and said, “He’d tell you that the most important deals are made with your heart.”
Aiden scoffed. “Come on, George. You can do better than that. You know my father didn’t allow his emotions to affect his business dealings.”
George arched a brow and said, “You’re right, because he believed there was only one deal worth risking everything for, and it was one he’d made years before you were born, the one he saw every night when he walked through his front door.”
A rush of emotions hit Aiden, and his father’s voice blew through his mind. The best part of my day is coming home.
“I hope that helps.” George eyed him curiously. “This deal you’re thinking about must be a doozy, because I’ve never seen you unsure about anything since the day I met you the summer after you graduated high school. Do you remember that?”
“Yes, that was a great summer.” Aiden had spent the summer before college shadowing his father at work, and he’d gone with him to meet George and his team for a quarterly meeting. He could still remember how proud he’d felt in his suit and tie, standing beside his father, his mentor, his idol, shaking George’s hand—firmly, as his father had taught him, without breaking eye contact. He’d felt like he was on his way, on the one and only path he’d ever wanted. Now he needed to find a way to remain on that path while making room for another one without running them both off course.
“To this day, I’ve never met a sharper kid,” George said, drawing him from his thoughts. “You have always known exactly what you were doing, Aiden.”
“While I appreciate that, George, you were around when I was raising Remi. You know I made more mistakes than I can count.”
“Sure, but you always did what was best for your sister because you made those decisions out of love. Those are the hardest decisions to make.” His expression turned serious, and he said, “You know, we don’t get a lot of chances to grab hold of the brass ring and run with it. I’m too old to change my ways, but you’re still young enough to jump into something new with both feet.”
“Funny, I don’t feel young.” Although that wasn’t quite true. With Abby, he felt spry and excited about everything he did. Whether that was feeling young, or falling in love, he wasn’t sure, but it felt fucking fantastic.
“Trust me, you’re young,” George said. “I remember something else your father said to me once. I was deciding if I should branch out in a new direction, and he said, ‘I’m quite certain if you really think about what you want, you’ll see there’s only one right answer, and it’s been there all along, waiting for you to accept it.’ Your father was right. I had known what I wanted to do all along. I had only been seeking validation because like you, I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t fuck it up.”
“What did you do?”
“I believed in myself and took a leap of faith. That was the year we tripled our earnings.” He rested his head back and closed his eyes again. “I haven’t thought of that moment in years. I sure treasured your old man’s friendship.”
“So did I,” Aiden said.
When it came to business, Aiden had never had concerns about making the right choices. But now he wondered if what was the right decision one day could be the wrong one the next.
He’d never been good at leaps of faith, but he believed in himself and in his feelings for Abby. He liked the man he was when he was with her. Hell, he liked the whole world a lot more when he was with her. She made him want to live a brighter life, to explore and see her light up with every new discovery. He had less than two weeks left with Abby before he headed overseas and back into the daily grind, spending twelve or more hours each day focused on work. He’d never been able to strike a balance between his personal life and his business life because he’d never wanted a personal life.
Until now.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t find a balance. He just needed to figure out how.
He looked at Remi’s picture on his phone, and her words came back to him. Isn’t that the whole reason you and Ben groomed Garth and Miller to take over?
Well, fuck him sideways. His little sister was right.
He thumbed out a text and sent it to Remi. You were right, smarty-pants.
Then he composed another text message, one he should have taken care of days ago.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THURSDAY MORNING STEVIE Nicks blared from the boom box as they painted the interior of the Bistro. Abby swung her hips to “Edge of Seventeen,” painting the corner of a wall while Brant used the roller. He and Grant had arrived bright and early, sporting baseball caps, T-shirts, and cargo shorts and armed with a pressure washer and extra paintbrushes. They’d been hard at work painting ever since.
Abby glanced at Brant’s slanted brows and intense look of concentration and said, “How can you stand still with this song playing?”
He pushed the roller up the wall and said, “I assumed you wanted us to do a good job to go along with the rest of the work you’ve had done.”
The Wickeds had done an excellent job. The granite countertop they’d chosen was worth every penny, and the pass-through to the kitchen and the ordering window on the side of the building made the Bistro feel even more open. Those additions, along with the bright white they were using for the walls, the ocean-blue trim to match the logo, and the colorful mural Cait had started painting gave the restaurant a fresh, welcoming vibe. She couldn’t wait for Aiden to see all the changes when he returned tomorrow night.
“Unless you’d rather I paint all willy-nilly like someone else is doing.” Brant eyed the area she was painting.
“I’m not painting willy-nilly,” she said sharply. She couldn’t help it if she’d been jumpy since yesterday afternoon. Every time she stood in one place for too long, she’d start thinking about Aiden. Not only did that make her miss him more, but it inevitably brought her thoughts to the following Sunday, when he was leaving again—only this time for good, returning to his real life. She’d tried to counter the ache of missing him by keeping herself busy. But then last night she’d lain in bed overthinking everything from how little time they had left together to what it would be like when he went back to work for good. Would she be like this the whole time they were apart? How would she survive that? And those thoughts made her uncomfortable because she wasn’t a needy person. She’d been up half the night, which had left her jittery, like she’d guzzled too much coffee, and she’d been going back and forth painting three different areas of the restaurant to use up her nervous energy. Two more days, she told herself. Just two more days and he’d be back.
And now she was thinking about Aiden again.
Needing a distraction, Abby continued shaking her booty, and called over her shoulder to Cait, who was hard at work on the mural, “I can paint and dance. Right, Cait?”
“Depends how you define painting.” Cait looked cute in what she called her painting jeans. They had tears in the thighs, a hole in one knee, and paint speckles and smears from previous creations. Her black sneakers also showed proof of her experience.
Cait hadn’t made it sound like she painted very often, but she was clearly at home behind a paintbrush. She hadn’t even drawn the mural on the wall before jumping in and starting with Abby’s father’s face. It took Abby’s breath away to see him brought to life within these walls.
Brant set the roller down and straightened his ball cap as he sauntered over to Cait and asked, “Where are you going to fit me in?”
Cait kept her eyes trained on the area she was painting. “It’s going to be a picture of the Bistro, not the marina. Olivier is here.” She pointed to different areas of the wall as she spoke. “Ava will be there, with me, Abby, and Deirdra. I was going to put a few tables back here and a little of the beach over here, but the other people will be out of focus.”
Brant put his back t
o the wall beside where she was painting, so she had no choice but to look at him, and said, “Show me where you’re going to be, again.”
She pointed to an area to her left.
“Then I want to be here.” He put his finger on a spot beside the one she’d shown him. “You can paint me in my bathing suit. I can take my shirt off and model for you.”
“No,” Cait said flatly, without looking in his direction.
“Would you prefer I’m in my birthday suit?” Brant asked. “Because I’ve got a really hot one.”
Cait’s head snapped in his direction. “You’re messing up my mojo,” she said breathily. “Go paint or jump in the ocean. Just get away from me.”
Brant grinned and went back to painting.
“Dancing Queen” came on, and Abby twirled across the room to paint with Grant. She sang and danced, bumping against his hip in time to the beat. “I’m so thankful that you guys came to help.” Bump, bump. “I never had friends like this in New York.” Bump, bump. “I’m so glad to be back.” Bump, bump, twirl.
Grant grabbed her hand and stole the paintbrush, giving her a stern look from beneath the bill of his Rock Bottom Bar and Grill baseball cap, his brown hair sticking out the back, brushing his collar.
“Hey!” Abby complained.
“When did you start snorting coke?”
Abby gasped. “I would never!”
“You’re definitely high on something, the way you’re flitting around here, yammering on more than Pix does.” Grant took a step back, looking her up and down like she was an alien being. “What’s going on with you?”
“There’s nothing going on with me. I’m just excited about working on the restaurant with you guys. I’ve even got most of the menu figured out.” She reached for the paintbrush, but he lifted it over his head.
“She misses Aiden. Cut her some slack,” Cait said.
Grant’s eyes narrowed. “Aw, shit. Sorry, Abby. No wonder you’re being weird. When does he come back?”
“Tomorrow night, and I’m not being weird.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. She reached for the paintbrush again, but he lifted it higher.
“You want this place to look good?” Grant asked. “Or do you want it to look like we let elementary schoolers loose in here with horse brushes?”
Abby huffed out a breath.
“He’s not wrong, Abby,” Brant said. “Take a good look at the places where you’ve painted.”
She did, and holy cow, she was doing a shit job. So much for this distraction. “Fine. You’re right. I’m doing more harm than good with the paintbrush. I’ll go power wash the outside.”
“I can take care of that,” Brant offered.
Abby waved him off. “I’d like to do it. I need something rigorous to do.”
“To keep your mind off Aiden?” Brant asked.
“No. To get my workout in.” She turned on her heel and strode outside.
Brant followed her out. “At least let me show you how to use it so you don’t break my machine.” As he hooked it up for her, he said, “I enjoyed hanging out with Aiden the other morning when I showed him my boats and he borrowed the pressure washer.”
“I’m glad. I enjoy hanging out with him, too,” she said cheekily.
“He’s pretty hung up on you.”
She loved hearing that. “I’m pretty hung up on him, too. But I can’t talk about him, because it makes me miss him, and I’m not used to that. So let’s change the subject.”
“Okay.” A coy grin brought out his dimples. “Is Cait seeing anyone?”
“No,” she said curiously.
“Then I take it Wells hasn’t been sniffing around here?”
“Brant Remington, are you jealous of Wells Silver?”
He scoffed. “Are you out of your mind? I know Wells, and so do you, if I recall correctly. I wasn’t sure if Cait needed someone looking out for her.”
“Uh-huh.” She wasn’t buying it. “That’s really sweet of you, but that’s my sister in there, so should I be keeping my eyes on you?”
“You know I’m a better man than that.” He flashed those dangerous dimples and said, “I leave the playing to the boys.”
He showed Abby how to use the pressure washer, started it up, and then left her to work out her emotions by blasting the dirt from the building. This was exactly what she needed to keep her mind off Aiden. She could barely hear the music playing inside the restaurant as she cleaned the front siding. Cool mist dotted her arms, the bright sun warmed her skin, and her mind tiptoed back to the first day she’d seen Aiden sitting on that very patio. She couldn’t believe she’d mistaken him for a Nautica underwear model. She smiled thinking of his reaction, so calm and collected, suave in his remarks. She thought about the next morning when they’d shared breakfast. She’d known then how different he was, how attentive and interested but somehow also careful and witty. Memories of their walk through town trickled in, and their first kiss. Oh, that kiss. It was pure and magical. She lingered on the memory, remembering the feel of his lips, confident and insistent, the strength of his arms, and her most favorite moment of that whole day, when their lips parted and his breath whispered over her cheek as he’d said—
“Abigail de Messiéres, you just might be my undoing.”
Abby whipped around, goose bumps rushing over every inch of her, sending chills through her body, her mouth agape as she tried to make sense of Aiden being there.
“Hey, Abs, think you can drop the pressure washer?” His suit was drenched.
“It’s really you!” She dropped the tool and launched herself into his arms, unable to believe he was really there, holding her in his arms, kissing her as desperately as she was kissing him.
“God, I missed you,” he said between kisses.
“I thought you were a figment of my imagination.” Kiss, kiss. “What are you doing here?”
“Turns out I forgot something important.”
“What?”
“That it was okay to put my work aside and just be a man who’s falling madly, passionately, and at breakneck speed for an incredible”—he kissed her softly—“sexy”—he kissed her again—“patient woman during the best vacation of his life.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
THEY SPENT SEVEN wonderful days painting, pruning bushes, fixing the fence in front of the Bistro, hanging out with friends, riding bikes, lying in the hammock, trying recipes for the restaurant, and checking off items on their Let Loose list and six beautiful nights taking walks on the beach, romantic drives along the coast, and falling into each other’s arms to enjoy dirty, sweet deliciousness into the wee hours of the morning. Coming clean to George and handing the remainder of the road show over to Garth so he could enjoy the rest of his vacation with Abby had been two of the best moves Aiden had ever made. Second only to inviting her to join him for breakfast three weeks ago, which felt more like three months. He felt like he’d finally discovered the man he was always meant to be—businessman, brother, friend, and significant other.
His phone buzzed with a text as he and Abby sailed out of the harbor on the boat he’d rented from Brant. They were looking forward to spending the day on the water and the evening in the artsy town of Chaffee. Chaffee was on the island and only a short drive from the house, but Aiden was glad they’d chosen to spend a few hours sailing first. He glanced at his phone, pleasantly surprised to see Brant’s name instead of Remi’s. Remi had been thrilled that he’d come to his senses and cut his work trip short, and she texted at least once a day to tell him so. He read the text from Brant. Hope you and Abby have a great day! Aiden hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having a sense of community until Abby had introduced him to her friends and they’d embraced him in their world.
He’d finally found everything he’d never known he was missing, especially the brunette standing beside him at the helm, gorgeous in a coral hoodie with her hair blowing over her shoulders. He pocketed his phone and said, “That was Brant wishing us a great day.”
“It’s everything I remember, only better because I’m here with you. I’m definitely going to start making time for this.” And for you. He didn’t want to think about leaving on Sunday, or the weeks they’d be apart until the grand opening. Carrie had sent him all of the documents and reports he needed for his Q2 meetings. Normally, he’d have reviewed them right away, but when he’d gone to the hotel to swap clothing earlier in the week, he’d attempted to start studying the reports, but they were a reminder of how few days he and Abby had left together, and it had bummed him out. He knew how hellish it would be to leave Abby, and this time he had no choice. Real life awaited.
“I haven’t been out on the water or to Chaffee in years,” Abby said. “I wonder if anything has changed. I know you’re still not allowed to drive in the shopping district. That’ll never change because it’s written into Chaffee’s bylaws.” She pressed her shoulder against his arm and said, “I’m glad we’re doing this, Aiden.”
“Me too.” He put a hand on her back and kissed her, inhaling the scent of the summery lotion Remi had sent her, which she’d bought from Ben’s mother, Roxie. Roxie Dalton was known in Upstate New York for her homemade lotions, shampoos, soaps, and fragrances, which she claimed to have infused with love potions. He was sure Remi thought he wouldn’t remember that little myth, which Remi and all of the Dalton siblings swore by. But the truth was, not only did he remember it; he welcomed it.
They sailed for most of the day, basking in the sun, eating the lunch they’d brought, and enjoying every minute they had with each other. When they docked at Chaffee and walked along the cobblestone streets, Aiden was immediately taken with the charming area. In the middle of town was an enormous square cobblestone courtyard surrounded by vibrant three-story shops with wrought-iron balconies. A small stage anchored one side of the courtyard, and in the center of the courtyard was a fountain surrounding a statue of a man and a dog. A few children were kneeling on the edge, peering into the water, while others were playing tag, running around tables and darting between large planters overflowing with leafy green plants and colorful blooms.