Chapter 20
TWENTY
PRESENT DAY
Ian
Josie arrives home from her sister’s dress fitting just as I’m heading into the kitchen to poke around the refrigerator and hope I’ll find some leftovers for dinner.
I didn’t expect her until this evening. Garrett told me that Annabel arrived today, and Madeline and Josie planned to take her for a drive to show her all the changes on Sandy Harbor since she moved away.
I don’t want to think too deeply about the way my ribs seem to compress my lungs at the sight of Josie suddenly standing in my living room.
She left early this morning, while I was still out on my run, so this is the first time I’ve seen her since that kiss last night. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the familiar shape of her pressed against me and the way she still fits in my arms after all this time.
Over the years, I’ve sometimes wondered whether I’d romanticized what we had that summer.
Josie was my first love, and it crushed me when she left.
But I was eighteen, still an idealistic kid, and everything felt huge and important back then.
Maybe I’d only imagined that the world seemed to shift into clearer focus when she was around, like a rough charcoal sketch transforming into sharp, defined lines.
But after last night, I know without a doubt that all my feelings back then were real.
And I’m starting to realize they still are.
“What happened to your mom’s tour of the island?” I ask.
“Madeline is still taking her.” Josie gives me a sideways smile. “But I bowed out.”
“Oh?” I say, wrestling my voice into a casual and unaffected tone.
But inside, I can’t help hoping she came back to be with me.
She ran upstairs so abruptly after I kissed her that for a moment, I was sure she regretted it.
But then right before she disappeared down the hall, her eyes drifted back to mine, and in that moment, I knew.
Josie wanted me as much as I wanted her.
I don’t know why she pulled away. But I know, somehow, that she wanted to stay.
“Yeah, I…” She bites her lip. “I thought I’d give them a little time together.”
I take a deep breath and gesture in the direction of the kitchen. “Join me for dinner?”
It’s not all I want to ask her—but it’s a start. My chest swells when she nods and follows me into the kitchen. As she slides onto a barstool at the island, I abandon my plans for leftovers and start pulling ingredients from the fridge.
“You cook?” she asks, the lilt in her voice giving away surprise. “I assumed you meant we’d be ordering takeout.”
I set some vegetables on a cutting board. “We can do that if you prefer. I just thought after all the running around and eating out, you might like something fresh and homemade.”
Her eyebrows rise, as if she wasn’t expecting me to say that.
I take a wine glass from the cabinet and set it in front of her. “Did you assume I don’t cook because I’m a busy single guy, or because you think I grew up with private chefs preparing my meals?”
“Um… a little bit of both?” she says with a sheepish grin.
I shake my head in half-amusement and half-exasperation. “I guess I’ll never live down that entitled rich boy stereotype you had of me.”
She leans into the counter to look me in the eyes.
“After hearing about you helping the residents of this island and seeing the houses you built for regular people to enjoy, nothing about you fits the entitled rich boy stereotype.” She sits back in her seat and lowers her voice. “To be honest, nothing ever did.”
I glance up, startled by her gentle tone, and all the words I’ve been holding back rise up inside me. Where did you go? Why did you leave?
Josie always understood me, always knew me better than anyone else did, even in that short time together.
I only wish that I could have been that person for her.
Maybe if I had been, she would have opened up before she took off.
She would have felt comfortable telling me the truth instead of leaving without a word.
Josie clears her throat. “So,” she says, and I sense a change of subject coming. “When did you learn to cook?”
“My mom taught me.” I pull a bottle of white wine from the fridge and tip it into Josie’s glass.
“She and my dad weren’t wealthy when they first moved to Sandy Harbor.
They put every cent they had into their first investment property.
Since they couldn’t afford to go out on dates, they’d come home from working on the house and make dinner together. ”
Josie takes a sip of wine. “I didn’t know your mom was involved in your dad’s business.”
I nod and pour my own glass. “She was in charge of the company’s finances for years, and I suspect the real brains behind the operation when they were first getting on their feet.
But then they had me around the same time my grandfather—Mom’s dad—was diagnosed with Parkinson’s.
He lived in Minnesota, and it was a lot to go back and forth with a full-time job and a baby.
So, she decided to take a step back and focus on family. ”
“Do you think she missed it?”
“I think she was bored out of her mind.” I pull out a knife and get to work on a zucchini.
“She didn’t just miss the work, I think she missed the relationship with my dad, too.
They were collaborators, building a business together, and then suddenly, she was a housewife, and he was the richest, most powerful man on the island.
It changed him.” This topic used to feel so painful and fraught, and I remember how I put off talking to Josie about it.
But now I find the words coming easily. “Or… I don’t know.
Maybe he was always the way he was, and the money and power just made it easier for him to get away with it. ”
Josie sits up in her chair. “Get away with… what?” she asks, her voice slightly breathless.
I stop chopping the zucchini and stare down at it. She knew my dad and I had a complicated relationship when it came to his business, but I never told her the rest. Maybe I should have opened up sooner. Maybe it would have changed things.
“With his serial cheating.” I pause, clearing my throat. “With acting like he was this upstanding guy when secretly he was having affairs with probably a dozen different women.”
Josie takes a ragged breath and reaches for her wine glass. “How did you find out?”
I remember that first time I came down the stairs looking for a glass of water.
The image of Dad and some strange woman tangled up on the couch.
“He started bringing women to our house when my mom was out of town. I was just a kid, so for a long time, I thought they were just his clients coming for business meetings. And then one day I found him and some woman clearly not having a business meeting in the living room.”
Josie’s face drains of color and her hands shake as she sets her glass back on the counter. “That’s terrible. Did your mom know what was going on?”
There’s an ache in her voice that makes me want to circle the island and wrap my arms around her.
I carried that burden all alone, worried that if Dad’s secrets got out, they would have destroyed Mom.
Maybe on some level, I’m still carrying that burden.
I’ve never told anyone about this, not even Garrett.
Because if I did, then I’d have to face all of my complicated guilt about what happened when I was finally free of Dad’s secrets. And I wasn’t ready to do that.
Not until now.
“On some level, I’m sure my mom had to know,” I say. “How could she not? But she was just so in love with him, so devoted to him, that she couldn’t see it. Or maybe it was the alcohol that helped to hide that truth.” I meet her gaze. “The alcohol… and me.”
“You never told her what you knew?”
“I was worried about what she would do. She was drinking so much, and every time my dad would stay out late or cancel their plans, she sank deeper.” I can still see Mom roaming the house with a bottle in her hand.
Can still hear the ominous thump of her shoulder against the wall as she stumbled, the shatter on the marble tile when she dropped her glass.
How many times did I pick her up and help her to bed?
And then I’d sit in a chair and watch to make sure she was still breathing, worried that if I left, she’d throw up in her sleep and choke to death.
I shudder as the memories come back to me.
“Can I tell you something I never told anyone?” I don’t know what it is about Josie being here that makes me want to crack open my chest and spill out the truth.
Maybe it’s because she was there in my darkest moment.
She snuck up to the dock to check on me and make sure I was okay.
And the things she said that day changed my life.
If it weren’t for Josie, I might not be where I am now.
“Of course.” Josie slides out of her chair and circles the island to my side.
I turn to face her. “Sometimes I’m relieved that things happened the way they did.
” I hesitate, waiting for the same guilt to wash over me that used to make me feel like I was drowning.
But it doesn’t come this time. For the first time, I feel light.
Unburdened. “My mother fell apart after my dad died, like truly hit rock bottom.”
Josie reaches out to press a comforting hand on my arm.
I want to lean in, to wrap my arms around her, but I hold back.
I need to get this out. “But then she ended up going to rehab and staying there for the first time in her life. I doubt she would have done that if my dad were still alive. She lives in Minneapolis near her sisters, has a really nice boyfriend, and volunteers at a local nonprofit. She’s thriving. ”
Josie’s eyes widen, but it’s not in surprise or judgment. It’s as if a sense of wonder is slowly drifting across her features like clouds drifting away from the sun. “And if your dad hadn’t died…” She blinks rapidly, like something important is dawning on her. “Maybe your mom wouldn’t be thriving?”
The back of my throat feels like it’s been rubbed raw with sandpaper. I swallow hard. “Sometimes I think that if my dad were still alive, my mom would be dead.”