Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
HARPER
I drummed my fingers on one of the several renovation binders, and Jules’s latest budget projections stared back at me accusingly.
The resort’s transformation was moving forward, but the numbers always made my stomach clench.
I checked my calendar and made a mental note to pick Finn up from the resort Kids Club by five, to tell Mom about Chase, and to confirm when the first round of room furniture would arrive.
I was just wrangling several stray locks of hair into some sort of order when Mom knocked on my doorframe.
“There you are,” she said. She wore a fitted shirt and capris, and her silver-streaked brown hair was loosely held with a silver clip. “I was afraid I’d have to hunt you down.”
“Ah, you’re here to interrogate the suspect in her natural habitat?” I gestured to the chaos.
Her expression was serious. “Yes. She appears overworked.”
I smiled. “You sound like Brenna. Is this going to be a family-wide thing?”
Mom came the rest of the way in, closing the door gently. “Maybe it should be. Did you get that timeline update?”
“Timelines, I have. Delivery dates, I don’t. I was about to start grilling Joe.”
She glanced over the binders on my desk. “All in due time.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re uncharacteristically patient.”
“A habit I’ve learned is handy to acquire.” With a smile, she took a seat in one of the armchairs. “Are we ready to tackle the updated financials?”
I nodded, pulling the printed budget spreadsheet from a drawer and handing it to her. Though Mom was stepping back from day-to-day operations, she still liked to be somewhat in the loop. She perused the document.
“All looks good to me.” Her sandals barely made a sound on the carpet as she got up to hand the paperwork back.
“Wow.” I accepted the spreadsheet before stacking it neatly. “You really have gone soft. You’re sure you didn’t swap my mom for a different model? Less scolding, more complimenting?”
She laughed, the same sharp but affectionate sound as always. “You know me better than that. Just wait until you’re my age. You’ll be ganging up on poor Finn before you know it.”
My chest tightened as she pushed to her feet. I took a deep breath, hesitating, then leaped. “Mom—there’s something else we need to discuss.”
She turned and sat again. A glint of curiosity showed in her eyes, or maybe even expectation. “Oh?”
I swallowed, realizing how much I’d built this up in my mind. How many different ways I’d imagined this moment playing out. “It’s about Chase. We’re seeing each other, and it could become serious.”
It already is serious.
I braced for the blow. An explosive What are you doing? Maybe a more subtle variant—a thinly veiled lecture. But I got none of that.
She was quiet, and then a knowing, almost amused smile touched her lips. “Well, I have to admit, I’ve been wondering when one of you would finally acknowledge it. It’s been rather obvious for a while now.”
My jaw dropped. “Wait, what? Obvious?”
She sat back in the chair, crossing her legs and looking entirely too satisfied with herself. “Yes, obvious. To everyone except, apparently, you two.”
“We’ve been careful,” I insisted, confused and trying to retrace every supposedly subtle step.
“Not careful enough to fool a mother,” she said. “I had my suspicions about the way you two played off each other when the renovations started. That impression has only strengthened since.”
“Huh?” I felt like I’d stepped into a different universe, one where everything I believed was true had inverted. “You’re not mad?”
“No. I’m happy for you both.” Then she laughed. “After what happened with Eli and Jules, I can hardly protest.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding, relief washing over me. “So, you’re okay with this?”
“Okay, yes. But you know my feelings about mixing resort business with personal relationships.” Her tone softened, but her gaze was steady. “Chase being a partner adds another layer entirely.”
I nodded, the weight of her caution settling in my chest but buoyed by the unexpected blessing. “I know, Mom. I can’t deny that this whole thing is a bit of a ticking clock.”
She rose again and glanced at the pictures of Finn on my desk. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Absolutely. Careful is my middle name. Right next to martyr.”
“Just know I’m here if you need advice. Romantic or otherwise.”
“Thanks. You’ve always been there.”
Mom reached for the door handle, then paused to turn back. “Why don’t you invite Chase over for Sunday dinner?”
I burst into laughter, the sound escaping before I could stop it. “Wow, Mom. Zero to sixty much? You’re literally throwing him into the deep end of the Coleridge pool.”
Mischief danced in her eyes. “From what I’ve seen, that young man can swim quite well. He managed to win you over, after all.”
“That’s…” I shook my head, unable to argue with her assessment. “Okay. I’ll ask him, but don’t blame me if he runs screaming in the opposite direction.”
“He won’t,” she said with unnerving confidence. “See you at dinner, sweetheart.”
With that, she slipped out the door.
I flipped the parrotfish over with a sigh. We had spent weeks refining the costume. Finn needed it perfect—realistic, he’d told me in all seriousness—and I’d sent him to the official kindergarten dress rehearsal with the glue-encrusted creation I thought he’d love.
Now it was home, shedding glitter like a miniature parade, one pectoral fin bending in the wrong direction.
I gave it a worried look as Chase knocked and let himself in.
The scent of chicken tenders hung in the air.
“Wow, something smells amazing,” he said, wrapping me in a casual hug.
“Am I too late to get a plate before the private rehearsal?”
“Your punctuality needs work, buddy,” I teased, pulling back to check for Finn-induced glue damage as I moved the wayward fin. “If you’re brave enough to eat chicken tenders with ranch, have at it. You have about five minutes until the star makes his entrance.”
He set a bottle of wine on the table and peered over my shoulder at the rogue fish. “What’s flopping around?”
“His pectoral fin,” I confirmed, moving the costume to the couch and clearing a spot for us. Toys were tidied but still present, their containment always short-lived. “Finn’s deeply concerned about the realism.”
“As he should be,” Chase said, feigning gravity as he picked up the leftover chicken tenders and ate one in a single bite. “Parrotfish are famously authentic creatures.”
He lounged back against the counter and wiped a second piece of chicken in a leftover smear of ranch dressing, the comfortable intimacy of his posture mirroring how it felt between us now.
All the awkwardness and tension that defined our every move, every interaction, only weeks ago, had evaporated.
In their place was an easy familiarity that could be either relief or terror, depending on how deeply I thought about it.
He picked up the wine bottle again, a question in his eyes.
“Yes, please.” He pulled two glasses from the cabinet as I thought about the upcoming Sunday dinner conversation. “I might need extra fortification tonight.”
“What do you mean? We’re about to receive a scintillating reef fish performance.” He was handing me my glass when Finn charged in, a six-year-old bundle of anticipation.
“Chase!” Finn came to an abrupt halt. “I need to practice for the show! Are you gonna watch me?”
“You kidding? I’ve got front-row seats.” Chase set down the glass and pointed to the green and blue pile of sequins and felt. “Is this your famous costume? The one with the realistic fins?”
Finn nodded so enthusiastically I was afraid he’d decapitate himself.
He quickly pulled on the costume. I held my breath, but it stayed together.
I bent to adjust his fishy cap, and Chase pinned the floppy fin so it had more structural integrity.
Finn wiggled his face into something that might have been intimidating, had he not been so blatantly pleased.
“I’m gonna be so good. I’m learning my lines really fast.”
“You must have your mom’s brain,” Chase said, looking at me as he settled back into the couch. I sat next to him, and he draped an arm over my shoulders.
“She’s helping me. We practiced ten times yesterday, didn’t we, Mom?
” Finn climbed onto the ottoman, puffed up his chest, and did a wild arm flourish.
“I’m a parrotfish. Please don’t step on me because I live on the reef, which is super fragile.
But that’s not all…” He stopped and blinked at us as if expecting a cue.
“Keep going, buddy,” Chase said. “What else do you do?”
“I poop sand!” Finn shouted with such unrestrained glee it sounded more like a superpower than a biological fact. “Lots and lots of sand. That’s why we have beaches. And I’m here to tell you…” He glanced around as his eyes grew wider and wider, clearly searching for more lines.
“Save the reef!” I whispered.
“Right! Save the reef!” Finn burbled, triumphant, thrusting his fin-clad arms to the sky.
“You don’t want me to poof out of existence!
” He bounded across the room, the words flying faster and faster, the force of his felt feet echoing through the cottage.
“Please don’t get rid of me or all the sand you love so much will go away!
” Finn turned back and bowed. “Was it good?”
Chase applauded with appropriate enthusiasm. “Very strong first act. Great movement, lots of intensity. If you really want to impress the grown-ups, add a few ‘blub blubs.’ And remember the extra emphasis on sand-pooping.”
Finn grinned, dashing to hug me. “I’ve got more lines, but I’m still learning those.
” He turned to Chase, eyes wide and sparkling with a kind of childlike urgency I’d never seen directed at anyone but me or one of his overindulgent aunt and uncles.
“Chase! You have to see the real play! It’s next month! Will you come? Please?”
The question hit him, surprise registering before anything else.
The glass of wine remained on the table, forgotten.
The entire house seemed to pause. He looked at me, a moment of searching, then slowly back at Finn.
The smile on his face was the kind I’d waited a lifetime to see on someone who didn’t feel obligated to care.
“Wow, buddy,” he said, voice warm and even. “Getting a personal invitation from the star parrotfish? I wouldn’t miss it for the world. You let me know when and where, okay?”
“Okay! Mom, isn’t that great?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “The best, sweetie. You better start practicing your autograph.”
Finn giggled and parrot-finned his way into his room, confident in his new favorite fan.
Chase turned to me. “That was some serious drama. Think he’ll need an agent after this?”
“Probably. I hear Spielberg is recruiting heavily from the ten-and-under crowd.”
He grinned, then checked his phone. “What’s the running time on this thing?”
“About twenty minutes,” I said. “Four and a half hours if you count backstage negotiations over costume details.”
“Perfect. Plenty of time to help him memorize before bed.” He got up, stretching. “I’m guessing that’s my job, since someone else did all the hard work. I suppose it won’t kill me to have an official title.”
“I can think of a few that fit.” As I studied his tall form heading down the hallway, shoulders broad and relaxed, my worries trailed him like a shadow I couldn’t seem to shake. He and Finn were already so close!
I joined them, getting Finn out of his costume without any wardrobe malfunctions and into pajamas.
“And remember, my character is essential to the reef. So I’ll need to really shout out my finale.”
“That sounds very strategic,” Chase said, leaning against the wall as I shepherded Finn into bed.
“You want to call it a night, Mr. Famous Actor?” I tucked Finn in.
“Good night, Mom. Good night, Chase.”
Chase leaned over, eyes slightly cautious but filled with something else that tugged at my heart. A hug request was issued, approved, and returned. I exhaled as we left the room, Harper and Chase again, just the two of us.
I poured wine into two glasses. “He’s going to be crushed if you can’t make it,” I said, voice light but tight, floating somewhere between a tease and a confession.
“I’ll be there.” He raised an eyebrow.
“I know you will. Thank you.” After taking a huge swig of wine, I inhaled a breath. “I told Mom about us today.”
Chase’s shoulders tensed beneath his shirt. He set down his glass and faced me. “And?”
“And… she wasn’t that surprised.” I ran my finger around the rim of my wineglass. “Said it was kind of obvious.”
“Obvious?” His eyebrows shot up. “How?”
“Apparently, we’ve been broadcasting on all frequencies.” I laughed softly.
“That’s kind of… unsettling.” His shoulders relaxed, but his eyes remained watchful. “What else did she say?”
I took another fortifying sip of wine. “She trusts my judgment.”
“Well, it’s a relief to be all official now, I guess.”
“One more thing.” I resisted the urge to take another gulp of wine. “She asked me to invite you to Sunday dinner this week.”
His eyes widened, and then he smirked. “Sunday dinner? With the whole clan? Do I get hazard pay?”
“Not the whole clan. It’s always a mixture, depending on who can make it. Think of it as a test. To see if you can survive mashed potatoes and interrogation.”
He laughed, a warm sound that made me feel like maybe, somehow, this could all work out. “Will I need Kevlar?”
“Probably,” I said, but I couldn’t keep the hope from my voice.
He took my hand and squeezed it gently. “Okay. Sunday dinner, so I’ll be all dressed up. Ready to face the music… or at least the mashed potatoes.”