Chapter 5 #2
“How do you feel about becoming a mother now?” I find I’m holding my breath, anxious about her answer.
“Still unsettled.” She sighs. “But it’s happening, right?” Her eyes pinch when she gazes back at me.
I can’t get a read on her true feelings, and I wish she would just tell them to me.
“What about you?” She swallows and licks her lips. “Did you ever want to be a dad?” She pauses. “Assuming you aren’t.” Her eyes narrow more. “Are you married?”
Her gaze drops to my left hand.
“Nope.” I pop the p. “I never wanted to be married for the sake of it. I’ve wanted the whole thing. Falling in love, building something real, being a husband, a dad . . . all of it.”
I hesitate to add that it just hasn’t been in the cards for me, because I believe I still have time. I just haven’t found my person.
Neve watches me a beat, eyes unblinking. Maybe the confession was too much. Or maybe she’s really listening to me. Hears the truth in what I’m saying. I want something that I know is missing from my life.
Something around the corner, just out of reach, and yet lingering, possibly waiting, for me.
A strong wind blows over us. A set of leaves rustles toward us and settles beneath our feet.
Strange. I’m not certain where they came from. Must have been carried in the gust.
“I don’t know if I’ll be a good mom.” Neve’s voice is almost tiny as she slips me this little nugget of emotion.
Unable to help myself, I reach for the back of her neck and squeeze. “I bet you’ll be an amazing mother.”
“Why?” Her head whips in my direction again. “You don’t even know me.”
Actually, I knew a few things about her, but none of those were relevant to motherhood.
“Well, you seem kind. You were so nice to my aunt.”
“Miss Charma is special.”
“She certainly is.” I chuckle. “And you seem dedicated, devoted even, to Rusty’s Wrecks.
” I understand she’s been the nail in the tire of all potential sales, and I should be working on persuading her to sell.
Giving her my pitch and promise with additional incentives to sweeten the pot if necessary.
But something feels off about hitting her with the imminent financial ruin of keeping the business, and how the sale would benefit her.
Hessfield Holdings ran a background check on Rusty’s Wrecks past five years of profitability. There isn’t any. Based on what it’s worth as a business, which isn’t much, our offer is over the top, because we want the property for our client. The location is key.
“Do you love her?” I ask, dismissing business thoughts and glancing at her stomach.
“Yeah.” She sighs, then repeats herself almost wistfully. “Yeah, I do.”
Her hands no longer roam her belly but stop in a position that looks more like she’s hugging it, embracing the baby inside.
“I think you’ll be a great mom, then,” I repeat, squeezing her neck one more time, intending to remove it but instead keeping it in place against her warm nape.
We both glance at the ocean until the breeze sends a chill up my spine.
That sense of missing something returns to me, more powerful than I’ve ever felt it.
I almost turn to Neve and ask if she feels the sensation. Like Aunt Charma asked us the other day when she arrived at the garage.
But I shake the thought as the feeling washes away. So weird.
“Have you been sitting here long? Need a ride somewhere?”
She glances at me, a smile curling her mouth. “Didn’t you run here?”
“Oh, yeah. Right.” I did run here. “Could I walk you home?” Suddenly, my palm sweats against her neck. But she hasn’t pulled away, and I want to keep holding onto her a little longer.
She shakes her head. “I drove. Had a doctor’s appointment this morning.”
“Does that mean you have the rest of the day off?” I sound hopeful, almost too hopeful.
Her shoulders sag, and she glances back at the ocean. “Nah. I have things I can do at Rusty’s other than work in the garage.”
I narrow my eyes, reminded of how she’s been working in a space with fumes and grease and endless potentials for harm to a pregnant woman. Thankfully, her doctor is telling her enough is enough. She needs off her feet, which is a start toward getting her out of that repair shop.
The thought hits my gut like the angry waves crashing against the cliff.
Something still feels off about Neve’s situation. Something I can’t quite figure out.
Instead of concerning myself with things that should not concern me, I stand and hold out my hand to help Neve up.
She takes my offering and continues to hold my hand as we take a few steps away from the bench.
When she drops it, a strange sense of lack fills my palm, and I swipe my fingers through my hair.
She doesn’t miss the move, watching as I glide my fingers through the sweaty waves. Then she pinches her brows, purses her lips, and takes a noticeable step away from me.
“So, you’re leaving after Labor Day.” She isn’t asking, but instead almost telling me that’s when I’ll be gone. Confirming under her breath, “Summer boy.”
I chuckle, knowing I don’t fit the label. I’m not a tourist, but then again, I’m not a local. I’m somewhere in between and almost feel lost by the thought.
Why have I stayed away from Lovewell Landing for so long?
Glancing back at Neve, I wonder if she’d like me to stay a little longer. But the deep crease between her brow and the distance she’s put between us tells me she isn’t interested in me lingering around this town, or her.
Why would she be? I’m here to take her family’s business from her, not to keep her.
And something feels extra off about that thought.