Chapter 20
Jillian
Baby Blue clapped her hands excitedly as I put chopped-up fruit on a tray in front of her. I was so lucky to be able to run the coffee shop and see her so much.
And it was all due to my wonderful neighbors. Between Mrs. Greenberg, Bonnie, Ronnie, Jeremy, and Mari, we all traded helping each other out and watching Blue.
I felt huge confidence and excitement for the future. Business had been good in Ramshackle Bay.
Bonnie and Ronnie were even thinking of renovating one of the old run-down manor houses outside the town center and making it into another bed & breakfast because Mari was always booked for months in advance now.
Everything was pretty peachy in my world. The most adorable baby, business was booming, I could hire help, friends and neighbors who loved me, dating the hottest and most powerful man in town. . .
My eyes fell down to my empty fourth finger as I poured milk into a sippie cup.
If everything was so perfect. . why couldn’t I commit to Cash?
He was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, phenomenal in bed, and couldn’t stop asking me to marry him. Gently at first. Then with curiosity. And recently with downright anxiety.
When would I be ready to commit?
After all, as soon as Franklin J. Davenport finally agreed to stop fighting this divorce, I could marry Cash. We had a child together, a baby I loved more than anyone else in the world.
So what was keeping me from wanting to marry him?
Cash was a good man. He was a very good mayor for our town. Diligent, thoughtful. Unfailingly kind to me. So what held me back?
Mari came in with her hands outstretched to take Blue. She’d nap over at the Pemberley B&B in a crib while Mari did her mid-afternoon paperwork.
I had the best neighbors. The best town.
After they were gone, I stirred my cup of lavender tea idly.
To accept Cash’s proposal or not?
Actually, I was sick of going back and forth in my own mind about this. Maybe I needed to just do it, accept Cash’s ring. Maybe I was just overthinking it, scared of commitment because my previous marriage hadn’t worked out.
This was definitely not about Frankie.
I was going to be absolutely thrilled to get rid of Frankie, and I wanted to strangle him for how many excuses he had come up with for dragging out this divorce.
First he insisted he couldn’t find his birth certificate. Or his driver’s license. Or we needed to catalogue every single item in the house.
At first it was annoying. Then, as the weeks dragged on, it was downright infuriating.
It was definitely going to be good to finally be rid of him.
This was more about the feeling I’d had when I was together with Frankie—before I knew he was a disgusting worm. That was the feeling I didn’t quite get with Cash, and I didn’t know why.
Cash was taller, bigger, more muscular, handsomer.
It was true that he didn’t necessarily have, if I wanted to be nit-picky, the world’s best sense of humor.
But I was 32 years old. Maybe I needed to finally grow up. We didn’t have to like all the same things, or laugh at all the same things.
Should I do this for Blue?
I couldn’t make up my mind.
Dissatisfied, I cleared the tray and counter.
After all, it was a good problem to have, debating how much I loved this gorgeous buff man who wanted to impregnate me again.
It had nothing to do with my past.
The doorbell over my shop gave a little tinkle. Probably Mrs. Greenberg.
“Your drink is on the counter,” I said automatically, my fingers idly playing with the mug in my hands.
“Hello, Jillian.”
My back stiffened.
That wasn’t Mrs. Greenberg, and I turned slowly to face Frankie.
He’d lost some weight over the last two years, his cheekbones even more prominent, but his arms still looked lean and defined as he tucked his hands into his board shorts.
“What do you want?”
Something twitched in Frankie’s face, and there were dark circles under his eyes.
“How about a coffee? I can make it myself.”
One side of his lips twitched up, but I felt furious.
“You bring signed divorce papers with you?”
He took a step closer.
“No. Because I don’t want to get divorced.”
I didn’t want it to be familiar, didn’t want him to be familiar, his pose, the way his long legs sprawled out around the café stool as he sat down.
Usually one knee was bouncing anxiously up and down, though. Frankie always had restless nervous energy. This time, he just sat and watched me. There was strain in his green eyes.
“Give me this divorce,” I said.
Frankie folded his arms.
“Hell no. Fuck no.”
“Why?” I cried in exasperation. “You are wasting everyone’s time with all this ridiculous legal maneuvering and nonsensical paperwork.”
“Because we are still perfect together,” he said, his voice low. Too low. “I know we are.”
“If we were perfect together, you wouldn’t have cheated.”
I saw a pink flush heat his cheekbones, but he said steadily, “I can do the work to make us whole again.”
I said nothing, dumping the lukewarm dregs of the drip coffee into a mug for him.
“Now why the hell would I ever take a chance on you again? Once a cheater, always a cheater. You’ll always have a wandering eye, looking for the next hit of pussy.”
“No, I won’t! I’m changed now.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Look at me!” he said, gesturing down at his T-shirt, which had splashes of grease and oil on it. I haven’t gotten one hit of praise in years. And it’s not what I crave. You know what I crave?”
I said nothing.
The hairs on the back of my neck were not rising. My skin wasn’t prickling.
“You. I don’t crave a hit of star-fucking. I just want you. I can’t stop thinking about how happy we were, how happy you made me. That was real. Even though I fucked up.”
“I have a baby now! What on earth makes you think I’d ever choose you over Cash?”
“Cash sucks,” he said, his chest heaving up and down with emotion. “He’s terrible for you. He can’t make you happy in the long run.”
“And you can?”
“If you’ll let me,” he begged.
I slid the coffee cup down the counter to him without thinking, and he caught it, the motion automatic, natural.
“I have proof that Cash isn’t who you think he is. That he doesn’t have this town’s best interest at heart. And you’re the only one who might be able to stop him.”
It pissed me off to feel my skin prickling at his voice, that my eyes even flickered down to where his legs were spread around the stool.
“I know one thing he’s talking about,” I retorted. “Finding me the perfect engagement ring. He’s only waiting on me to give him the ok. And once you let this divorce go through without stalling, he can finally ask me.”
Frankie’s other arm flexed as he set his hand down in front of me, the heavy gold wedding band still shining, and I saw a muscle pulse in his jawline.
“He’s never going to be your husband. I’m your husband. Cash has plans to convince everyone on Main Street to sell their businesses to some big corporate hotel chain from out of town.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said sharply.
“He’s greedy,” Frankie insisted. “He’s not like you. He doesn’t give a shit about the locals.”
“We would never go for that,” I insisted. “Any vote would be dead on arrival.”
He smiled. Like he had expected me to say that.
“Have you ever heard of a thing called eminent domain?”