Chapter 43
43
PORTIA
I woke up and was immediately hit with sadness. My chest ached like I’d been running all night. I had been put through the paces last night. My dad wasn’t going to let up until he was certain I had come to a decision. I knew he was afraid I was going to change my mind as soon as I got home. But he was wrong.
San Francisco wasn’t my dream anymore.
The realization settled over me with a quiet finality. It hadn’t been for a while, if I was honest with myself. I’d just been too stubborn—too scared—to admit it. When I went to New York, I had been determined to make it. My dad called it stubborn, but I didn’t know how to quit. Or fail. When I came back to Larkspur Lake, I framed it as failing. It took getting knocked off the pedestal I put myself on to see it wasn’t failure at all. If I was failing, I was failing upward. This was the best failure I could ever hope for.
I went through the motions, making coffee, showering and so on. I dressed mechanically, my fingers fumbling with the buttons on my blouse. The mirror showed dark circles under my eyes, but there was a steadiness in my reflection that hadn’t been there yesterday. No more second-guessing. No more waffling.
I knew what I was going to do. And it was a decision that was best for me. I wasn’t making the choice for my parents or Dean. This was for me. I was going to stand on my own two feet and do what my heart was telling me to do.
The drive to my office was quiet. Some of the early risers were out and about. Thankfully, I had a designated parking spot for my business. Things could get dicey mid-day when the tourists flocked in. I let myself into my office and looked around. My gaze swept over the framed listings on the walls, the business cards stacked neatly on my desk, and all the other little details. Every inch of this place was mine. Built by me. Chosen by me.
This wasn’t a backup plan. This was the plan.
I sank into my chair, the leather creaking softly, and opened my laptop. I checked email first. There were the usual inquiries—people asking about lakefront properties, vacation rentals, and a few spam messages that made me roll my eyes. I quickly sorted through them, responding where necessary.
I found it kind of funny that despite Lila’s attempt to smear me with her stupid articles, she was only making me more popular. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe it was just people interested in me. It was my last name that was lending credibility to my new business venture. People in this town respected my father. They trusted him.
I was sure there would probably be another article in the coming days. Seth’s hearing was today. I assumed Dean’s influence would result in Seth getting a light sentence. Time served. I didn’t wish him any ill will. I just hoped Seth didn’t keep dragging Dean down.
Seth would get off, which would put Dean back in the news. And since Dean and I were linked, Little Miss Lila would inevitably want to write another story that somehow involved me. She would be ravenous for more drama. But I was ready for it. I wasn’t going to let her control this narrative.
My fingers flew across the keyboard as I drafted a statement—not about past failures, but about the future. About doubling down on my firm. About putting down roots. Dean, Seth, and I were not all interconnected. Seth had zero to do with my business. But if she was going to write about me, I was going to capitalize on getting my name in the paper.
I had just finished my statement when the door swung open. Alexis breezed in, two coffees in hand. She set one on my desk with a thunk .
“Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I replied. I could tell there was something going on. She had that look in her eyes.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I thought you would be with Dean.”
“We’re not together anymore.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
Poor Alexis. Everything had blown up since I talked to her yesterday.
I sighed, pushing my coffee aside. “I told Dean about the San Francisco offer and he basically told me to take it. He said what we had was just ‘fun’ and acted like he couldn’t care less if I left.”
Alexis’s mouth fell open. “That doesn’t sound like him at all. I mean, I know he’s grumpy, but he looks at you like you hung the moon.”
“I know,” I said, feeling my throat tighten. “That’s what makes it worse. He does care—I know he does—but the moment I mentioned San Francisco, he completely shut down. Pushed me away before I could even tell him what I was thinking.”
“And what were you thinking?” Alexis asked, settling into the chair across from my desk.
I looked out the window at the town I’d once been so desperate to escape. “That I don’t want to go. That I’ve built something here that matters to me. That for the first time in years, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
“Have you told him that?”
“I didn’t get the chance,” I said bitterly. “He was too busy constructing this narrative where I leave him for the big city and never look back.”
Alexis shook her head. “Men are idiots.”
I laughed. “I went to see my dad after,” I continued. “He helped me sort through everything. Made me realize that I’ve been chasing something I thought I wanted instead of seeing what was right in front of me.”
“So you’re staying?” Hope brightened her eyes.
“I am,” I said firmly. “I’m declining the offer. This is where I want to be. Where I need to be.”
“And Dean?”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t know. He made it pretty clear he doesn’t want to try. That he thinks I’ll regret staying for him, that I’ll wake up one day and blame him for holding me back.”
“That’s not fair,” Alexis said. “He doesn’t get to decide that for you.”
“That’s exactly what I told him.” I took a sip of the coffee. It was my usual order, nice and strong. The caffeine hit my veins almost immediately. “But I can’t force him to fight for us if he won’t. And I’m not staying because of him. I’m staying because this is where I want to build my life.”
“So what now?”
I took a deep breath. “Now I focus on my business. On building something that’s mine. And if Dean comes around?” I shrugged, trying to ignore the ache in my chest. “Great. But I’m not waiting around for him to decide I’m worth the risk.”
“Seth’s hearing is today,” Alexis said quietly.
I nodded. “I know.”
“Are you going to check on Dean afterward? He’s going to need someone, Portia.”
I hesitated, torn between my pride and the knowledge that she was right. “I don’t know. He made it pretty clear he doesn’t want me in his life.”
“I think you might change your mind,” she said.
“Probably, but I’m not going to let myself.”
“I came over here to see if you’d seen the news,” she said.
“What news? Please don’t tell me it involves me. Did Lila already hear about our breakup?”
She slowly shook her head. “No, but I’m sure she’ll write about that later.”
She pulled out her phone and put it on the desk in front of me.
I glanced down and read the headline posted on the local community Facebook page. My stomach dropped.
SETH JACKSON SENTENCED TO SIX MONTHS IN COUNTY JAIL.
Dean’s name jumped out at me from the article, again and again. The press was tearing into him—speculating about how involved he’d been, whether he’d pulled strings, if he regretted cutting his brother off. My fingers curled against the desk.
“Holy shit,” I murmured.
“Yeah,” she said. “Half the people in town are pissed the sentence was so light and the other half are surprised he got anything at all, considering Dean’s usual pull.”
I knew Dean. Knew exactly how he’d be handling this—shutting everyone out, shouldering the blame, convinced he deserved every bit of it. I wanted to grab my keys, drive to his shop, and?—
No.
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to relax. Dean had made his choice. I had to trust mine.
Alexis was watching me, her brow furrowed. “You okay?”
I took another drink from the cup of coffee. “Yeah.” My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
“You’re thinking about going to him,” she said.
“But I won’t,” I said. “He made his choice and I’m going to honor it.”
“I hate to say it, but I think that’s the right thing to do,” she said. “For now. Let him sit and stew for a bit.”
I laughed, my eyes going back to my email. “Oh, I got a request for a showing!”
“There you go.” She laughed. “Just keep on trucking.”
I clicked open the email from the client. “They want to see the old McCready house this afternoon.”
Alexis smirked. “Look at you, all business.”
I picked up my phone, dialing before I could second-guess myself. The owner answered on the third ring. As I scheduled the appointment, something settled inside me. This was it. No more looking back.
I was all in.
“Yes, I get to see it today,” I said, hanging up the phone. “I can’t wait to see it. Do you remember that girl, Dana? She had a birthday party there when we were in third grade.”
“I remember,” Alexis said. “That house has gone off and on the market over the last ten years. I think it’s haunted.”
I laughed. “It is not.”
“Okay, I’m going to work. I just wanted to check in. I’ll talk to you later.”
I forced myself to stay busy until it was time to head to the appointment. The McCready house was everything I loved—wide-plank floors, original moldings, a wraparound porch that begged for rocking chairs. My client showed up and I slipped right into realtor mode.
The tour was effortless. I pointed out features and did my best to sell the place, but deep down, I wished it was me that was buying it. I could see myself having morning coffee in the breakfast nook and where I would put my couch.
I ran a hand along the farmhouse sink. “Houses like this have soul. You can’t replicate that.”
The client looked around and I could already tell they weren’t feeling it. Old houses weren’t for everyone.