Chapter Thirty-Nine
Anson
T he oceanside deck of The Sapphire Tide is packed, the warm sea breeze carrying the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. Strings of lights are woven through the wooden beams, casting a soft glow over the crowd. It’s a perfect night—warm, but not too humid, the scent of salt and grilled seafood thick in the air.
Lennon leads the way, spotting a group of guys near the bar. One of them—a broad-shouldered man with a short, graying beard—claps Lennon on the back as soon as we reach them.
“Damn good to see you, brother.”
“You too, man.” Lennon grins. “Congrats on retirement.”
The guy—Byron, I think—is immediately handed a drink, and introductions are made as we settle in. Parker orders us a round, and soon enough, we’re leaning against the bar, trading stories and toasting to new beginnings.
Sebastian elbows me at one point. “So, how’s it feel?”
I glance out at the water, the waves dark under the night sky. “Feels good.”
“And what does Tabby think of the new digs?” he asks.
“She loves the place. She’s into all the history and character.”
He studies me for a second. “You thinking long-term?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
Parker grins. “Guess we’re celebrating more than just a house, then. Our friend is growing up.”
“Guess so.”
Lennon lifts his drink. “To Anson. And to all of us growing up.”
The others follow, glasses clinking together, laughter rolling through the warm night air. We settle at one of the standing pub tables and order some appetizers.
“Hey, isn’t that Tabby? I thought she was going with the girls?” Lennon says, lifting his chin over my shoulder.
I turn to look behind me, and there she is, seated at a table inside the restaurant with a small group of people I don’t recognize.
I set my beer on the table. “I’ll be right back,” I say as I stand.
I walk inside and over to the table. An older gentleman is facing Tabby, speaking to her, and he looks angry. Concern hits me, and I rush over to find out what’s going on.
“This is absurd!” he bellows.
I clear my throat, drawing his attention.
“Is everything okay over here?” I ask.
Tabby’s back goes ramrod straight, and she slowly turns in her seat, her eyes widening when she sees me.
“Anson,” she gasps.
“Hi,” I say, confused by the panicked look on her face.
“What are you doing here?”
“Tabitha, who is this?” the older woman seated across from her asks.
She doesn’t respond, so I reach my hand across the table. “I’m Anson. And you are?”
She takes my offered hand. “Rosemary Harmony. Tabitha’s mother.”
Her mother?
I slide my eyes back to Tabby and lift a brow.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” I say before offering my hand to the man who I’m now assuming is her father. “Sir?”
He shakes my hand as well.
The guy to Tabby’s left stands, and I face him.
He extends his hand and grins. “Quenton Belicourt. Tabitha’s fiancé.”
I take his hand, and he holds my stare as he grips mine with more pressure than necessary.
“How do you and Tabitha know each other?”
“Anson and I are friends. He helped me get settled in here,” she says.
Friends?
“How nice,” Quenton quips. “But it was unnecessary. We’ve come to take her home.”
My eyes move from him to Tabby, who looks like she’s about to get sick. She clutches the back of her chair like she might fall over, and that’s when I see it. A large, oval-shaped diamond ring on her left hand.
What the actual fuck?
I plant a smile on my face. “That’s me. Just a helpful friend,” I say. Then, I look back across the table at her parents. “It was nice to meet you folks. I hope you have a safe trip home.”
I turn to leave.
Tabby reaches out and catches my forearm. “Wait,” she whispers.
I jerk out of her grip and continue through the dining room and past the hostess stand to the door.
Fishing my phone from my pocket, I start to call Sebastian to let them know I’m leaving when I hear footsteps running up behind me. I turn to see Tabby racing toward me. I turn back and continue down the wooden path to the parking lot.
“Anson, wait!” she cries and hurries around me, blocking my path.
“Move, Tabby,” I say.
“No. Not until you let me explain,” she says.
“Explain what? We’re just friends, right?”
She shakes her head. “That came out wrong.”
“Came out wrong?” I repeat. “Are you going to tell him?”
“Tell who what?”
I step closer to her and hiss, “Your fiancé. Are you going to tell him about us? Because you sure as fuck didn’t tell me about him.”
“Quenton is—”
I don’t let her finish the sentence.
“Are there more? Do you have a guy in every city between here and wherever the fuck home is?”
She steps back like I hit her. “What? Of course not! How could you think that?”
I throw my hands up. “I don’t know what to think. Last I knew, you were with some jackass meditation guru who left you stranded. Now, you have an uptight prick of a fiancé. But you were sharing a bed with me last night, so seems like you get around.”
Her hand flies up and slaps me hard across the face, and I catch her wrist.
“He’s my ex-fiancé. I broke up with him before I left Boston with Indy. He’s one of the reasons I left.”
I flip her hand so she’s staring at the ring. “Looks like you guys worked things out,” I quip.
Her eyes fall to her ring finger, and she shakes her head as her eyes fill with tears. “He put it back on me in the car. I was distracted.”
“You were distracted?”
She loses the fight, and tears start to stream down her cheeks in earnest. “Yes. They caught me off guard at the campground, and I wanted to get them out of there before they caused a scene. I was going to tell them about you. About everything.”
“Tabitha? What’s going on here?”
We turn to see her father and her fiancé striding toward us. Her dad’s expression is stern until he catches sight of her tear-streaked face.
“Is this guy bothering you?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, sir. Not anymore,” I say before stomping past her and to my truck.