Drift

Chapter 21

Lingering clouds even after an offer of pancakes

I stick my hand out from under the warmth of the comforter and fumble over the ice-cold nightstand for my watch.

I blink. The tiny hands swim from fuzzy to clear.

I groan into my pillow. Six hours in bed and not one minute of sleep. My legs are lead, every muscle aches, and I have no energy to face the day. And it’s my fault.

Every conversation, and every chance Sawyer gave me to tell him the truth, will spin on repeat until I talk to him.

My stomach twists into a knot so tight I scrunch into a ball.

I should have been honest with him. He deserves that, but don’t I also deserve the chance to explain?

The one time he refused to listen was when I needed him to give me five more minutes.

After everything we’ve been through, surely I’m worth five more minutes?

I throw off the comforter.

Sawyer has been patiently teaching me how to stand up for myself. Battling past the impossible wall between me and my fear of conflict is still my greatest challenge. But whether or not my knees wobble, I will talk to him.

I shower in record time and grab a dress off the hanger. I stuff my feet into my Ugg boots, and I’m still fumbling with the buttons of my dress as I fly out the door and down the stairs.

I weave through the streets toward the wharf. My breath fogs in the freezing morning air as I push my tired legs as fast as they’ll go.

Wind whips over the deserted parking lot as an old petrol guzzler roars over the gravel and cuts off the gas by Mulligan’s.

My heart sinks when Cain emerges from the back of the truck with only a red-headed teenager I don’t recognize. I wonder if it’s Bruiser’s boy—the one Sawyer mentioned all those weeks ago. Whoever he is, Cain waves him off to the boat when he catches sight of me.

“Well, look who’s here.” Cain slants his hip against the side of the truck. “Superstar auctioneer. Freya says you and Luke made a ton for the charities last night.”

“Oh, yes… We did well.”

“I s’pose you’re not here to talk about that, though?”

“No.”

“You’re looking for Sawyer?”

“Is he…?” I trail off as I shield my eyes against the harsh light rising over the waves to check for signs of life on the boat. No Sawyer.

“Nah, he’s shot through,” Cain says, lifting a bag out of the back of his truck. “Up north to his parents’ place.”

“So…he’s just…gone?”

“He’ll be back when he’s figured out where his head’s at.”

I nod slowly as the news drops like concrete on my chest.

“He’s hurting,” Cain says. “That was one heck of a story you’ve been keeping to yourself.”

“I didn’t want my life to be defined by the man I used to be married to.”

“I’m not having a go at you. Your ex-husband is your business. But just so you know, Sawyer made the shit that went down at Fuoco my bloody business until about midnight.”

“Cain, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. Not your fault either. I’m blaming Freya for that. She was the one stupid enough to give him the goddamn coffee. He wasn’t pacing the length of my backyard before he drank that.”

“He was angry?”

“Not at you.”

“Sure.”

“His pride’s taken one hell of a hit, but his anger’s directed at the right person.” Cain smirks. “At one point, he was ranting about getting Kristen’s real estate license revoked.”

“Sawyer would never do something like that.”

“Wouldn’t he? I think you might find his moral compass shifted right around the time he overheard her talking rubbish about you.”

“He told you about that?”

“Not many other people for him to talk to when we’re out on the water all day.”

“Oh… Sorry.”

He shook his head. “The vulture should’ve kept her mouth shut.”

“She’s interested in him.”

Cain grunts a laugh. “She’s wasting her time on him. He’s only had eyes for one woman for a good few months now.”

My frustration at myself lashes out with a kick at the gravel. “And I ruined it all.”

“You two need to talk. He’s off pretending he can live without you, but give him a week. He can’t.”

“What if he decides he can?”

“Don’t you worry. The next time you see that stubborn bastard, he’ll be on your doorstep begging you for another chance.”

The knock on my front door is too polite to be Sawyer.

I drag myself off the sofa. There’s no book to put down or TV to turn off. I’ve just been staring at the ceiling, feeling sorry for myself. I pad through the living room and open the front door. Luke stands on the other side.

He offers me a sympathetic smile and holds up a grocery bag. “Can I tempt you with a morning after breakfast?”

It’s a sweet gesture, but I’m not in the mood for pretending to be good company.

Sawyer’s gone. What’s the point? Is it even worth the battle to ask Luke to leave?

I’m already swimming in guilt. Do I really want another man’s hurt feelings on my conscience?

I care a lot less about sparing Luke’s feelings, but I definitely don’t have the energy for another fight.

I sigh. “Come in.”

He doesn’t notice my reluctance and eagerly steps inside. His eyes go wide as he scans the room and toes off his shoes.

“You really fixed this place up,” he says.

“I can’t take any credit. This is all Cain.”

Luke sniffs the air. “Is that…fresh paint?”

“He paid a few of the local boys to redo my living area when I was at work. Hence the…” I gesture at the sheets thrown over most of my furniture.

“Ah, yes, the rustic Italian villa closed for winter vibe,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

I almost crack a smile. “So, what’s for breakfast?”

He drops the grocery bag on the counter and starts unloading ingredients. “I thought I’d go for proper comfort food today.” He grins. “Pancakes.”

I settle into the corner of the kitchen beside him. “With all the trimmings?”

“All the trimmings, but… I’ll be honest.” He holds up a jar filled with red goop. “I whipped up the strawberry coulis last night when I couldn’t sleep.”

“What kept you up?” It can’t have been mulling over all the missed opportunities to talk to Sawyer, like what kept me up.

“I was actually thinking about you.” He shrugs. “I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?” He cocks his chin. “You put on an amazing show for the auction, but you were quiet in the car when I dropped you home.”

“Life suddenly got very complicated again.”

He reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. “People were always interested in knowing more about you. Now that the truth about the mysterious Elsie Hoskins has been revealed, everyone will move on to some other mystery in a day or two.”

I stare at him. He’s taking the news remarkably well. “It doesn’t bother you that I didn’t tell you the truth?”

“No? I mean, I’m not surprised. There were clues, but I never asked.” His smile is apologetic. “Our relationship—”

“Arrangement,” I correct him.

He frowns but doesn’t press the point. “We got off to a different start than most couples. The intimacy came first.”

“I don’t think you can call what we had intimacy.”

“No?”

“We…fucked.”

Luke chokes on air and fumbles in the overhead cabinets for a glass. “Bloody hell, I don’t know what’s worse.” He wheezes in a breath. “You using the scientific words or…” He flicks the faucet on and fills the glass. “Shit.”

“I’ve cursed like that before.”

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead as he gulps down a few sips of water. “Yes, but usually not outside the bedroom.”

“Your couch isn’t in the bedroom.”

“Els.”

“Neither is your outdoor table.”

Laughing, he shakes his head as he finishes off the glass of water. “You’re teasing me.”

I pull out a chair at the dining table and sit down. “I’m stating facts.”

“You are ever the cold-hearted rationalist.” He grins only for a moment before his expression turns serious. “Els, I want to ask you something. Like always with us, the timing’s off… Or maybe it’s perfect… I’m not sure.”

“This is a cryptic change of direction.”

“I’m not deliberately trying to act so obtuse. I want to be honest with you.” He forgets about the ingredients spread over the countertop and pulls out the chair next to me at the dining table. “It’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about for a couple of weeks now.”

“O…kay?”

“I want to open a new restaurant. A location I’ve had my eye on for a while has became available.”

“You think there’s enough tourist business here to—”

“In Melbourne.”

“Melbourne?”

“I’ve already talked through the details with my lawyer. The fitter’s on standby, and the interior decorator sent over the final sketches yesterday. All I have to do is say yes.”

“Now wait one second. Are you saying you’re leaving?” It’s me, isn’t it? I’m cursed.

“Els.” He laces our fingers together. “You’re part of this. I want you to come with me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come with me,” he repeats. “We’ll have a fresh start. Together. Properly this time. You can pick out an apartment for us. Or a house. Anywhere you want. You can go back to working at the university or… bloody hell, Els. I don’t care if you don’t work at all. I just want you to be with me.”

“Luke…”

“We can leave this place behind us.”

I yank my hand free from his. “I don’t want to leave. I love it here.”

“It’s a beautiful spot, but… Els, there’s no future here. Not in the long term. Not for me or you—”

“But we’ve never talked about the future.”

“We’ll figure it out as we go.”

“But I know what future I want. Luke, I don’t want to move back to Melbourne, and even if I did… I don’t…” I take a deep breath. “I don’t see a future with you.”

Shocked, he jolts back in the chair.

“Please don’t think I’m not grateful for the kindness you’ve shown me,” I say. “Last night…and preparing for the auction… It meant so much to me.”

“Jesus, Els.” He spears his fingers through his hair. “This is the easy letdown speech.”

“There was nothing easy about how we ended. You hurt me so much.”

“And I’ve explained—”

“And I listened. And I forgive you. I honestly do. But there’s a part of me that can never forget what you did.

I’ve changed because of that day. If I’d never overheard what you said, that woman would be jumping for joy to move in with you.

But I did hear you, and I’ve winged every lesson life has thrown at me since.

I failed one of them, but…” I shake my head. “I’m different now.”

And that’s the real lesson, isn’t it?

To some people, the decision to move to a tiny town with only a dead-end job to pay the bills is going backward. It’s choosing a life of less. But to me, choosing Luke is going backward. He’s the life I’ve known. A man deciding for me, paying for me, and thinking of me—and what I want—last.

Sawyer never treats me like that. Sure, he growls about driving me home and shoots disappointed looks at me when I don’t stand up for myself, but he always gives me a choice.

Even if Sawyer and I never get back together, he taught me to expect more. I won’t settle for Luke’s version of less.

“Els…” Luke pleads. “Think it over. Please.”

I shake my head. “I’ve been doing nothing but think for weeks now. I know what I want.” I rise from the chair. “My answer is no.”

Luke stands too. “I don’t want this to be the end for us.”

“I’ll always be grateful for you making my first weeks here special. I have so many happy memories.” I wrap my arms around him in a fierce hug. “But the end of us happened weeks ago.”

I hold him close and breathe in the familiar scent of expensive cologne tinged with lemon.

I want to lock it in my memory for the day I tell my grandkids the story of how I knew the Luke Gallo, and they refuse to believe me.

I’ll tell them he was a brilliant chef, but I liked his Nonna’s simple linguine the best, and how he smelled like summer in the Cinque Terre.

They’ll pet me on the head and say, “Sure thing, Grandma.”

I squeeze him tight one last time and whisper, “Goodbye, Luke.”