Chapter 7 #2
I don’t know how to explain my strange world to people sometimes.
I grew up with my mom’s side of the family who was very wealthy.
But my dad was not wealthy when he met my mom.
Which is sometimes something I think about.
They are pushing me to save the company, but at what cost?
Money isn’t everything. I’ve made enough to honestly retire somewhere and live a very simple life.
But I love the company. I love helping people.
And I love watching it grow and thrive. I don’t want to stop.
And if we lose it because of me...I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive myself.
Thankfully, we switch topics and she tells me funny stories about her yoga students. By the time we finish our food, I’m relaxed and truly glad I worked up the nerve to ask her to hang out with me.
“We totally need to do this again,” Summer says when we wrap up our day. “I had a lot of fun.”
“Me too,” I agree and then give her the world’s most awkward hug. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Give me your number and I’ll text you.” She holds up her phone ready for my digits. I blurt out my number and then she grins. “There. I texted you.”
After I get back to Birdie’s, I’ll need to turn my phone back on to check it.
Not just for Summer’s texts. I’ve been ignoring everyone, except Wilby, of course, and my dad’s texts and emails.
I’m technically on vacation, but when you’re the VP, vacation is just a different work location with worse Wi-Fi.
One thing I’ve always done to try to prove myself is work non-stop like my dad.
And I hate it. I wish I had more of a life than just working.
Like shopping dates with a friend.
Even while being on vacation, something is buzzing inside of me.
I have so much energy and am restless. I take a deep breath.
Which is wild because for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel suffocated.
I’m just...here. And I’m starting to think that here isn’t such a bad place. I like it here.
I jab at the soil with my trowel. “I don’t know why this plant isn’t doing so well, Birdie. I’ve been trying to get it healthy like you showed me.”
Birdie squints at the plant and sways a little, since she’s on her third glass of sangria that she and the Bees have been drinking. “Sugar, it’s not your fault. That plant should’ve tried harder.”
The Bees lose it and laugh.
“Lordy, you’re a hoot, Birdie,” January calls from her chair, her own glass of sangria almost gone.
Birdie ignores their laughter and hands me another plant that I’m repotting as if I’m performing a sacred duty. “Here. These need encouragement. And probably gossip.”
The Bees have a more active social life than anyone I know. They’re partying with Birdie’s homemade sangria and listening to music, gossiping, and making each other cackle with laughter. When I’m old and retired, I want this life, I’ve decided.
They are clustered around the wicker patio table, the massive pitcher of sangria almost gone. I’ve declined their offerings because someone has to stay sober around here. Birdie stops and tops off everyone’s glasses.
January, Gale, Bitsy, and Lucille are a hoot. And they encourage Birdie in the best possible way. Sometimes in questionable ways. They’re hilarious.
Gale looks at me and says, “So, tell us about your ex-fiancé. What should we do to terrorize him, ladies?”
A chorus of groans arise at the mention of him. Birdie must’ve spilled all the dirty details about her dislike for him.
I roll my eyes and grin. “You don’t need to do anything. Tyler’s hellbent on destroying his life himself, I can promise you that.”
“Tyler,” Lucille bites out as if it’s a sour taste in her mouth. “He sounds like a turd.”
“He is,” Birdie chirps.
Bitsy leans forward. “Can I see a picture of the offender?”
Birdie’s already got her phone out and is scrolling. I grab another plant and shake my head with a snort. I wouldn’t want to get on their bad side.
Birdie thrusts the phone out and shows them. All their heads crowd in to look at the picture on her phone.
Then, Lucille sighs deeply. “In my opinion, I’m extremely disappointed that this is the person you were crying about. He is not worth crying over.”
January looks at me, dead serious. “You can do much better.”
Someone feigns a cough and mutters, “Cal.”
A memory of water sluicing off his muscular chest while he rides the wave hits me out of nowhere and sends a flash of heat rippling over me. Ugh.
I look at all of them. “Don’t be playing matchmaker. I’m not here for that. This is my vacation this summer. No men. I’m swearing off all men. I have to figure out how to save my family’s company.”
“Women, then?” January asks as she sips her wine.
“No,” I sputter. “I’m getting my life together. One plant at a time.”
“It doesn’t look like it’s going well,” Gale muses over her glass at the plant in question.
“No fun.” January shakes her head in disappointment.
“Well, what should we do tonight, ladies?” Gale asks, examining her nails.
Birdie leans in and whispers loudly, “We could go moon Jonah Black when he brings his boat in.”
They hoot and holler at that idea.
“He’s so grumpy,” one of them mutters. “He can’t get any grumpier.”
Lucille smiles wickedly and says, “Giddy up, sparklefarts. We’ve got fuckery to spread!”
I laugh so hard as all of them set their glasses down and wander off to do whatever nonsense they’re going to do. I feel sorry for Jonah Black and whatever he deserved to get mooned by a bunch of old ladies.
For the first time in a long time, I feel at peace and calm with life.
Even though I can’t get a certain hot bartender out of my mind. Or the fact that I’m still running from my life. At some point, I’m going to have to go back to New York and face everything. I can only ignore Tyler, my mom, and my sister for so long.
I get cleaned up and go for a run to clear my head. I end up down by the beach and strip down to my new swimsuit and sit in the waves. The warm water feels good, and the waves lapping up on my legs give me something to focus on.
I know one thing for sure. I’m going to figure out what to do about the company. I’m Silverlyn Montclair, and I won’t go down without a fight.
I have no idea what was going through my grandmother’s mind when she left in her will that I could inherit the company if I was married by thirty.
She had all sorts of ridiculous stipulations in there as well like I had to be happily married.
And I had to prove to the trust that it was a legitimate marriage and that I wasn’t faking it.
Where can I find a husband in two months? And convince him to marry me?
If I don’t, I’m out. And then my parents and the board will move on to the contingency plan—the one where my sister can take my place and marry within two months after my thirtieth birthday. Same rules: happily married, no faking, legitimate. They’ll want Belladonna to rescue the company.
Hell no.