Chapter 7
Ruby
BY THE TIME I STEPPED into the Coral Bay Inn’s breakfast room, my skin still warm from Sebastian’s hands, my stomach was tight from what I had to say.
I drew in a breath.
My core staff was already there, waiting—Sandra and Lani at reception; Mel, Bob, and Dayna in housekeeping; and Joe, Xavier, and Brian in charge of breakfast prep and service.
The Bar & Grill was run by an external vendor, whom I’d already notified. Our regular maintenance was outsourced, too. I’d already spoken to them before, and they confirmed the damage was beyond their scope.
I glanced around. A stack of folded linens sat neatly on a chair in the corner. The service dishes were clean and lined up for tomorrow morning. My staff was gathered around the long, sturdy table where we served full breakfast buffet-style.
“Thanks for coming, everyone. As most of you know, we’re beginning renovations. Unfortunately, the issues we discovered are worse than we thought.”
I outlined the structural problems, then wrapped up with, “Repairs are estimated to take two months. Until then, we’ll be limiting bookings and scaling back shifts. If anyone wants to talk to me privately, I’ll be in my office for the next few hours.”
A beat of silence.
Lani gave a small nod. Joe scribbled into his notepad.
“As for the remaining temp staff—we’ve already cut most at the end of summer, but I’m afraid the rest will be let go by the end of the week. I’ll handle all communications, so please direct any questions to me.”
That was it. I could only hope it hadn’t felt as brutal as it did in my chest.
“So, we’re all staying?” Dayna asked, glancing at the others.
“Yes, I want to keep you all. But we won’t have enough bookings for full shifts. If anyone needs help finding part-time work in the meantime, I’ll do what I can. I know a lot of business owners in Coral Bay.”
“What about the Bar & Grill?” Mel asked.
“This affects them, too. But Mr. Harris will manage things with his own team.”
Outsourcing the restaurant had been a battle with my Aunt Amy.
I’d offered her the space first since food was her domain, but a daily drive back and forth between Riviera View and Coral Bay was too much for her.
When she backed out five years ago, I contracted it out against her advice.
I’d never regretted it—running the inn was enough of a circus without adding a kitchen to the act.
When it was over, I ducked out of the breakfast room and headed straight for my office, my heels clicking against the tiles with more confidence than I actually felt.
I shut the door behind me, took a long breath, exhaled it slowly, then flopped into the deep seaglass-colored sofa and stared at the vines curling around the white pavilion in the back garden outside my window.
The garden. It would probably be coated in renovation dust soon. All my beautiful bougainvilleas, rose bushes, honeysuckles, and ice plants.
I sighed, pulled out my phone, and typed a message to Sebastian: “Staff notified. Outsourced contractors notified. Temp staff summoned. Still standing.”
I switched to the Beach, Please group chat. “I promised an update. But you’re not going to like it. I probably won’t be able to make it to our night out this week. Inn’s a mess, and I’m running on fumes. Raincheck?”
Evangeline replied first. “Oh, no. Renovations are never fun. But we’re here. Maybe it’ll do you good to get out? Or I can drop by with lavender for stress. Backing Rio on this—it’s the best calmer in the business.”
Evangeline was the sweetest. Gentle, delicate-looking, someone you just wanted to hug to death. But beneath all that softness, she was strong.
“I wish it could save me,” I wrote. Now I could tell them how bad things were—a two-month shutdown, an expensive reconstruction, and staff issues. I added a short description.
“Hang in there. You’re doing what you need to do,” Rio chimed in. “Evangeline is right. You should get out. Pick you up? Pun intended.”
I loved her for not mentioning the wedding again, knowing that it’d add extra stress I didn’t need right now. Rio was as un-bridezilla as they came.
Daphne had seen the message but hadn’t responded yet. She usually didn’t, not right away. Being a cop meant real emergencies took priority over texts. But if you needed her, truly needed her—she showed up.
They all did. Each in her own way. They got me. They didn’t hover, didn’t demand. But they were there.
We’d all found each other through the inn—Daphne had come by a few times on duty to handle rowdy guests, a break-in, the kind of stuff you don’t put in the brochure.
Evangeline delivered flowers every week, and Rio met the other two through me.
She’d always been part of my life, long before Coral Bay.
We completed each other—Rio, steady and thoughtful, always pausing over her words, partly because of her stutter, but mostly because she was wise, and I, loudmouth, always talking before thinking.
I stared at the phone a second longer, then typed. “Maybe. I’ll let you know. Thanks, girls. From the cold, shriveled bottom of my heart.”
I felt better now that the people closest to me knew where I stood. Even if they weren’t here physically, I could lean on them.
And then it hit me—earlier, I’d literally leaned on Sebastian. Let him hold me. And I hadn’t flinched. Somewhere along the way, without me even noticing, he’d made it into the short list of people I leaned on.
That hadn’t always been the case. My friends thought it was strange, but they knew me: once I trusted someone, that was it, they were in. But letting men in was different. Riskier.
Early on, I’d learned the cost. If I offered my heart, it got stomped on.
That wasn’t a theory—I’d tested it through school, over and over.
My heart was out there, shiny on a silver platter, with no takers.
And no givers, either. So I adjusted. Lightly crushing on five boys at once?
Safe. No expectations, no heartbreak. Later, having men I could never have landed in high school want me?
Even better. I’d enjoy the ride, then send them on their merry way without so much as a scratch to my heart.
So I stayed loyal to the one rule that worked: don’t get attached.
And if it wasn’t broken, I didn’t fix it.
Sebastian was my friend. And it wasn’t broken. Especially with the benefits part front and center. So why screw that up?
Yet here he was, inching closer to the inner orbit of my carefully guarded galaxy—if to use a metaphor he’d love.
Shaking my head to ban these thoughts, I sent a short text update to my mom and Alan—her partner.
We spoke and messaged regularly, but right now, I had to keep it short.
I didn’t have the energy to manage their endless advice, suggestions, and opinions.
My mom was like Aunt Amy—my dad’s sister, so technically her ex sister-in-law—minus the expertise, and I didn’t need either one of their meddling.
Alan would probably say I should save money and let him fix the place, when in reality, he couldn’t even fix the leaky water tank in their toilet.
And my brother was busy chasing his next career milestone, anyway.
I leaned back, my head against the headrest, and closed my eyes for ten quiet seconds. Then I sat up, pushed my shoulders back, and got back to work, starting with the pre-booked guests. Some calls were better made personally.
Next, I’d knock on the doors of the current guests to apologize for the noise and mess starting tomorrow. Thankfully, most were checking out in the next two days anyway, and I’d come bearing Coral Bay Spa coupons as a peace offering.
It wasn’t fun, but it was mine to tackle. And I wasn’t about to half-ass it.