Chapter 4
Clayton
I step onto the pier with a spring in my step, which is an easy thing to do when you're greeted by a beautiful morning. It's a life full of beautiful mornings up here. The sun is out, the sky is clear, and the water glitters like a liquid blanket of diamonds.
Hard to believe I've been here for almost a month.
I feel a million times better than I did back home on the Gold Coast. Interestingly, not because I'm processing things.
Quite the opposite, in fact. I work all day, hit the gym after, grab some takeout on the way back, then sit on the upper deck of my yacht to watch the sunset, binge Netflix once it gets dark, shower, sleep, and repeat.
I admit it's sad and pathetic, but it's my sad and pathetic, and it's exactly what I need right now.
I know myself. Once I get bored of this routine, then I'll take the required next steps to heal my heart and get ready to move on.
Who knows, I might even be open to finding love again one day.
One day very, very far into the future…and definitely after I finish binging NCIS.
I grin as I pass the front office. That sure was some introduction to Leo and Rove.
We're all good now. Leo explained I took a turnoff that only he and the marina staff use, not the main entrance.
My GPS directed me down it for some strange reason.
When he saw an unknown person stepping out of an unknown car carrying Vaughn's child, who he recognized by her distinctive pink blanket, he assumed the worst.
The four of us—me, him, Rove, and Mabel—now have a weekly dinner every Monday on my yacht.
I'm enjoying getting to know them, and I'll take any excuse to spend more time with little Mabel.
She might very well be the cutest baby ever.
We take turns cooking, and since tonight is my turn, I'll be ordering extra takeout.
The first and only time I tried to cook, when I was thirteen and felt like making a steak, I burned down half the kitchen. Lesson learned.
I swing my briefcase into my car and am about to get in when I hear a vaguely familiar voice calling out behind me.
"Clayton!"
I turn around, and my breath hitches. There he is. Mabel's father. Vaughn.
"Hi," I say, watching as he crosses the small lot to reach me. He's about as tall as me, slender but defined, and is wearing a pale-blue polo with a Second Chance Bay Marina logo in the top corner. "You're back?"
"Returned yesterday," he answers.
He gets near enough for me to see the finer details of his face I missed in the chaos of our first encounter. I'm treated to gorgeous olive skin, a sharp, elegant nose, and two deep-blue eyes that look a helluva lot less panicked than the first time we met.
I stick my hand out to shake his, but he bypasses that and engulfs me in a bear hug. "Thank you so much for what you did."
I'm dumbstruck, not only with surprise at his presence but also with the realization that this is the first physical contact I've had with a human who isn't my favorite six-month-old in a very long time.
The warmth of his body seeps through my business shirt, and I can feel his heartbeat all the way down to my feet.
"Of course," I reply. "I'm so glad Mabel is safe."
He pulls back, braces the tops of my arms, and pins me with those devastating eyes. "Because of you. That's the only reason she made it."
"You made it," I point out.
"Also because of you," he says. "Running with a baby would have slowed me down. And if we'd been caught—" He turns away, wheezing out a breath through clenched teeth. "I don't even want to think about it."
I have questions. So many questions. I've been prying a little with Leo and Rove, and they've provided a few details.
Vaughn rocked up out of the blue with Mabel about four months ago, petrified and fearing for their safety.
And something bad had happened to Mabel's mum.
They weren't any more forthcoming than that, which I took as a sign to not stick my nose where it clearly wasn't wanted.
"I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you…" His eyes drift to my superyacht.
It's my fifth yacht and easily my favorite—and most expensive because hey, I got dumped by not one but two people I loved.
Think that entitles me to a little extravagance.
Three towering decks of extravagance to be exact.
It looms over all the other boats, easily the largest one in the entire marina. Not that size matters.
Oh, who am I kidding? Of course it fucking does.
"You don't have to repay me. I'm just glad Mabel is safe. And so are you."
Those searing blue eyes swing back my way.
He realizes he's still holding on to me, so he lets go of my arms and takes a step back, giving me a thorough once-over in my business attire, modified for the tropical climate of course.
Long-sleeve shirts are out, replaced by a crisp white short-sleeve cotton shirt tucked into a pair of breathable dress trousers and loafers without socks.
"Let me make you dinner. Please," he says. "Are you free tonight?"
"I'm having dinner with Leo and Rove on my yacht tonight. You and Mabel are more than welcome to join us. It's my turn to cook"—a.k.a. order takeout—"so you don't have to worry about that."
"But I'd like to. I want to do something."
He's so earnest, and I can tell this is important to him.
"By all means then." I smile. "How does six sound?"
"Perfect. I'll bring everything. You won't have to lift a finger."