Chapter 21
JACOB
For the first time in days, Billie got up early to go to the cafe. I stirred when she got up, and she asked me if I wanted to join her. But I’ve had one too many early mornings over the last few weeks, and I don’t want to deal with it anymore.
She laughed at me for saying that, then got up with a kiss, leaving me to roll over and go back to bed.
I sleep for another few hours, waking every so often, drifting between dreams of Billie; thinking about her in the shop, thinking about the way she smiles at customers, and how all of the people on this island love her so much.
Just once, I wake from a vision of being back at the cafe working. Work dreams are usually a nightmare, but this dream is one I almost want to go back to sleep for, so I can keep enjoying it.
Billie has done something to me that’s more than irreversible. It’s magic.
When I finally get up, I discover she’s left a note in the kitchen telling me that she’s left food in the fridge.
I chuckle to myself. She didn’t have to do that, but she did.
God only knows why, but I’m not one to deny a free meal, so I grab the leftovers from the fridge, slap them in the microwave, and sit down to enjoy my breakfast.
I hate to say it, but she’s right. Having a home-cooked breakfast from someone who cares about you is completely different to eating in a restaurant. I’d forgotten what this feels like.
I’m not sure if I ever knew.
As I eat, I look around. Billie’s place is nice enough, but it’s clear that work needs doing.
She would probably say no, but if she wanted to expand, I could easily see how to go about it.
I could make it happen. The same is true for the cafe.
I know her pride is going to stop her from accepting help, but I’m sure I can find a way to make offering upgrades seem appealing without making her look like she’s accepting my charity.
It wouldn’t be charity, not really. I owe her more than money could ever buy. She just doesn’t realize it.
Thinking about it now, I can see the cafe in my mind’s eye — the places where the paint is chipped, the chairs that need replacing, the tables with bad legs. Expanding and redecorating the place would take nothing with the kind of team I would set on it.
She would be resistant, of course — and I can’t say I don’t understand where stubborn pride comes from — but understanding it and accepting it are two different things. I’ll be damned if I’ll let her squander any help I might give her just because she’s too set in her ways to let me.
A patio out front, too. If nothing else, I could probably talk her into that.
At the moment she has a couple of metal garden tables and chairs with old sun umbrellas.
It’s fine, and I’m sure plenty of people use the resources, but imagine something paved, keeping the rustic charm.
Tended flowerbeds, specially designed furniture. A branded awning with a new logo.
If it were up to me, she could have it all. If she lets it be up to me, she will have it all.
But how can I persuade her that this is a good idea?
I jump in surprise when my phone rings. I frown at it for a second, like I don’t understand why it’s making a noise. I don’t think I do. I don’t have any calls scheduled this week. I’ve taken vacation time at work. Nobody should want me for anything.
I’ve barely even looked at my phone these last few days. It’s been refreshing.
Suspicious and unhappy to have my tranquility broken, I pick up the phone. “Hello?”
“Mr. Ford, hello.” It’s one of the lawyers working on my island case. It’s funny, but I’d almost forgotten that I’d set all that in motion.
“What do you want?” I ask, perhaps a little too sharply.
The guy on the other side of the line sounds delighted to tell me, his grin almost audible.
“It’s regarding your recent land acquisition, sir.
I’m happy to tell you that we’ve been able to push the motion ahead as you requested.
The island can be yours in less than a week.
We’ve already started sending out the eviction notices. ”
“What?!” I yell. “Eviction notices?”
There’s hesitation as the lawyer tries to understand why I’m suddenly furious. I had almost forgotten that I had told them to expedite the process. I had completely forgotten that even without my say-so, all of this was still going to happen for real.
I should have called James and told him to call off the whole thing, but I was too busy lost in Billie to think about it.
And if Billie finds out from anyone but me that the eviction notices are dropping…
The thought chills me to the bone.
“Make it stop now,” I demand.
“What, sir?”
“Make it stop.”
There’s a crackle down the line as the lawyer tries to decide what to do next. I’m throwing him so completely off script that it’s requiring him to have an original thought. No doubt that will explode his brain. “But… sir… this is exactly what you wanted. Wasn’t it?”
“It was. But my priorities have changed. It doesn’t matter what you think. I don’t pay you people to think. I pay you to do what I tell you to, and I’m telling you to make it stop.” I’m still yelling, but I can’t be calm about this. Not when it’s ruining everything.
A flash of guilt hits me that the lawyer sounds on the verge of tears now. He sounds young. “I’m afraid the notices have already been sent, sir. They should be arriving at people’s doors this afternoon or tomorrow at the latest.”
I force myself to sound less angry. It turns into begging. “Is there no way you can stop the notices?”
“There are possibly a few strings we could pull…” the young man says hesitantly. “But the sale’s as good as gone through. You’d have to come back here and fill out a lot of paperwork to change anything now.”
“Damn it all!” I shout and hang up the phone. The poor lawyer is probably confused, but I don’t have time to care about that right now. Everything I’ve built here is crumbling around me.
This afternoon, he said. I glance at my watch. It’s already 11:30. I don’t have enough time to turn it around.
I don’t have a way to make this stop.
This perfect island life, this home that I thought I’d been creating… it’s all been an illusion, and it has been from the start.
And the worst part is that Billie knew that all along. She knew it, and she still allowed herself to trust me.
I’ve done nothing but let her down.
I stand up so quickly that the chair I was sitting in topples over beneath me, the wood clattering against the flagstone floor. I stumble to the door, not stopping to pick it up.
Only one thought is in my head. I have to find Billie.
I’m half-dressed and haven’t even showered, but none of that matters. How could it? The only thing I care about right now is trying to control this whole mess before my last chance at a life I really want slips away from me completely.
The sun is blindingly bright, and I instinctively throw up a hand, squinting as the light filters through my fingers. The cafe. I have to get to the cafe.
A car zooms past and the driver shouts something out the window, possibly concern, maybe a warning to stay out of the road. I’m too dizzy to understand words. My head is pounding with the sound of my heart.
To the cafe. I have to get there now and explain it all to Billie before she decides she never wants to speak to me again.
I turn up the road and run.