The One Real Thing (Hart's Boardwalk) (18 page)

But I didn’t want him to hate me.

Yet he was probably back there fixing those steps, frustrated with me, while other women drooled over him. They were probably all way less complicated than I was and—

Stop!

I was in knots. And it had to stop. First I had to deal with Andrew.

“Why are you really here?” I finally got up the courage to ask as we walked up the porch steps to the inn.

He pushed open the door but stopped to face me as we stood inside the empty reception area. “It’s time we changed our relationship. Into an actual relationship. No more messing around, Jessica. This time apart has given me perspective. We’re getting too old for our ridiculous behavior. It’s time to settle down.”

The thought made me feel equal amounts of panic and irritation. It was just like him to make this momentous decision without me.

I’d just opened my mouth to say so when Bailey came hurrying in from the dining area. “Mona is going to cover for me this evening so I thought you, Tom, and I could take Andrew out for drinks at Cooper’s.”

The thought made my stomach churn. I glowered at Bailey. Why was she doing this? “I don’t think—”

“I need a scotch after the day I’ve had,” Andrew said, apparently not registering Cooper’s name in what she’d said. “Why don’t we take a
nap
before that?”

As in sex.

Nope.

I just couldn’t, I realized.

“Why don’t you go
nap
”—I handed him my room key—“and I’ll meet you back here in a bit. I promised I’d help Emery out with something at her store.”

I was gone before he could protest.

In fact, I’d never moved quicker in my life.

While I was pulling my phone out of my purse, I noted that the gift store owned by Bailey’s friend was open. It hadn’t been open that morning when I’d passed.

Dahlia must be back.

As soon as I could, I really wanted to meet her. Bailey spoke so highly of her.

Except you are leaving soon. So why does it matter?

Slipping my shoes off, I walked down from the boards onto the beach. I didn’t stop until I’d found a quiet spot on the south end of the mile, away from the view of the inn and from other tourists.

I sat down on the sand and pressed speed-dial number 1 on my phone.

After a few rings, Matthew picked up. “Jess, everything okay, sweetheart?”

I immediately relaxed at his voice. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, I’m just finishing up for the day. You don’t sound so good. What happened? Last time we spoke you were having a great time.”

“What if being a doctor doesn’t actually make me happy? What if I’ve just convinced myself it does? What do I do?”

“Oh, God, Jess . . . I’ve told you before . . . you do what makes you happy.”

“Isn’t it ridiculous, though, to be questioning this at thirty-three years old?” I laughed at the absurdity of it. “I feel so fucking lost, Matthew.”

He was silent for a while and then: “You’ve been lost for a long time, Jessica.”

The mere mention of the past made me clam up. I didn’t talk about it, not even with Matthew, the only person who knew the truth.

He sighed at my silence. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I need to know,” I said, the words coming without me even realizing it was what I was going to say, “that if I decide to start over somewhere new, you won’t think that’s crazy. Because right now I feel crazy even considering it.”

“Okay . . . are we talking about starting over in Hartwell?”

I shrugged and then remembered I was on the phone and he couldn’t see me. “Maybe. I guess what’s important is that I’ve come to realize I’m not happy in Wilmington. I keep fighting with that truth . . . except it is the truth. I thought things were going the way they should”—the way I deserved—“but maybe it’s time to grow the fuck up and live the life I want, right?”

“Yes,” he said vehemently. “God, yes, Jess.”

“I mean, I hate the idea of leaving the women in the prison, because I’m a good doctor to them.”

“I know it.”

“But maybe it’s time to put myself first. Maybe?”

“Not maybe, Jess. Definitely. I cannot tell you how happy I am to hear you say this.”

“So you don’t think it’s crazy and irresponsible and immature and—”

“No. None of that. Sometimes life just doesn’t work out the way you hoped and no matter what age you are there comes a time to change it. I have a forty-year-old man working as an intern in my office. He was a dentist for fifteen years and he decided one day he was miserable and that he wanted to start over.”

“Really? You’re not making that up to make me feel better?”

“His name is Mike Lowery. I can put him on the phone if you want.”

I laughed. “Okay, I believe you.”

We were silent for a while.

“I can hear the waves,” he said softly.

I stared out along the stretch of sand. “It’s beautiful here. Peaceful.”

“You do what you need to do, sweetheart. And when you’re ready I’ll bring Helena and Perry out to see you so we can check that you’re doing alright.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “No one will ever care about me like you.”

“Jess . . . they will if you give them the chance.”

“This is a bad idea,” I hissed into Bailey’s ear as we followed Tom and Andrew into Cooper’s.

“I think it’s a great idea. It’ll clear a few things up for you.” She smiled. “Oh. Dahlia’s back,” she said, changing the subject deliberately. “She’s got some stuff to do, but she promised to meet us for drinks before you leave. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“Nice try,” I said.

She just smirked and then that smirk wilted a little when her attention moved to the bar.

I followed her gaze.

Andrew and Tom were standing at the bar and I suddenly wanted to rush over and take Andrew away. Cooper’s expression was completely blank as he looked toward Bailey and me.

“This was a bad idea,” Bailey muttered. “Shit.”

“Oh, what makes you say that?”

She ignored my sarcasm. “Because I was thinking about helping you. I thought if you could see Dr. Arrogance next to the amazing Cooper Lawson it would finally pull your head out of your ass. But I don’t want to hurt Cooper to help you. Shit.”

“Uh, they met today already,” I said, and then her last sentence penetrated. “Hurt Cooper?”

But she was moving forward before I could get an answer.

“This is Doc Andrew”—Tom was introducing Andrew to Cooper by the time I got over there—“Jess’s . . . friend.”

Cooper nodded at my . . . friend. “Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Tell me you stock Macallan,” Andrew said in lieu of hello.

Cooper just nodded.

“I’ll have two fingers on the rocks.”

“Let’s sit over at a booth.” Bailey tugged on Tom’s hand.

Confused, he frowned. “But we usually sit at the bar.”

“I feel like the moody atmosphere of a booth tonight.” Bailey smiled brightly. Too brightly. “Come.” She pulled harder on him. “Give me a little romance.”

“You are acting weirder than usual,” Tom said, following her.

Andrew took my hand. “Are you coming?”

I was too busy staring up at Cooper, who was staring at me with expressionless eyes. But I knew him a little better now. There was a hint of heat there. And not the good kind.

He was still pissed at me.

That made me want to shrivel up and find a hole somewhere to hide in.

“Cooper,” I said, suddenly needing him to be nice to me.

All I got was a nod and—“Lil will take your order.”

Deflated, I started to follow Andrew. He let go of my hand only to wrap his arm around my waist and I wanted desperately to pull out of his hold. But I wasn’t a teenager anymore.

I’d put myself in this position and I needed to act like a mature adult about it.

I brushed off the move as inconsequential by quickly slipping into the booth beside Bailey so Tom and Andrew would have to sit opposite us.

So much for being mature.

But not hurting Cooper trumped being mature.

Bailey leaned into me as if she was giving me a one-armed hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispered in my ear.

I forgave her childish stunt immediately because I knew her motives were pure. I squeezed her hand in reassurance.

“This place is . . .
quaint
,” Andrew said, looking around at the bar.

Tom and Bailey shared a look that clearly said they were not impressed by Andrew’s pretention. I wanted to kick him under the table.

“I love it here,” I informed him.

He gave me a patronizing smile. “Darling, there are plenty of nice bars back home. You’ve never tried them so you don’t know the difference.”

“That is incredibly condescending,” Bailey said.

I almost burst out laughing.

Andrew seemed surprised by her outburst. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Right. I’m going to need a drink.” Her arm shot up in the air. “Lil, over here. Pronto!”

Lily jerked in surprise at Bailey’s yell and quickly finished scribbling down the order she was taking to hurry over to us.

She gave us a huge grin. “What can I get you?”

“Two fingers of Macallan on the rocks,” Andrew said before anyone else could speak. “And a glass of your best red.”

He’d ordered for me.

I wasn’t surprised.

Bailey, however, looked like she wanted to slap him.

Tom choked back laughter as he ordered. “Beer, Lil.”

“Bailey?” Lily said.

My friend shook herself. “Long Island. And cancel the red wine.” She turned to me pointedly. “What would you like to drink, Jessica?”

Now it was my turn to struggle with holding in laughter. I turned to Lily, avoiding Andrew’s gaze. “I’ll have a Long Island, too.”

I had a feeling I was going to need it.

“Sure thing. Oh”—she dipped her head down to me—“I wanted to thank you. Cooper said it was you who told him to talk to me about what’s been going on . . . I should have spoken to him earlier. Anyway, thanks. I really need this job.”

Warmth spread through me. “You’re welcome. I hope everything is okay.”

“It will be. Helps I have an awesome boss.” She grinned and trotted away.

My gaze moved past her to Cooper. He was laughing with Old Archie about something and my belly flipped. I loved his crooked smile.

I loved that he had taken my advice and made whatever was going on in Lily’s life better for her.

“Are you alright?” Andrew said, drawing my attention back to him.

“Dr. Jess!”

I jumped at the shout that had everyone turning in the bar to look at Old Archie. “Yes?” I called back, a little worried about what he was going to say, considering he’d just been talking to Cooper.

“My old lady, Anita, she’s got a problem with her neck. I said I’d ask you to have a look at it. And while you’re at it, will you give
her something for that damn flu she’s got? She keeps trying to work through it.”

Everyone turned to stare at me, waiting for a response. “Um . . . doesn’t Anita have a doctor here?”

“Ah, she hates going to the doc. Hates waiting in that creepy waiting room place, you know. I said how nice you were and she finally said she’d get it checked.”

I sensed concern in Old Archie and so I found myself saying, “Tell her to pop by the inn tomorrow morning.”

“She works. Eight a.m. okay for you?”

“Sure.”

“Great. I’d buy you a drink, but I’ve only got enough on me for four more beers.”

Amused, I grinned. “That’s quite alright.”

I turned back to find Andrew frowning at me.

“What?” I shrugged.

“House calls? Really?”

Lily arrived and put our drinks on the table. I picked up my Long Island and said, “He’s a friend.”

“You’ve certainly made a lot of those here,” he said stiffly.

“Yes. I have.”

There were other tourists in the bar, at Bailey’s inn, at Emery’s, at Antonio’s, and although they were treated with cordiality, they were not treated by the business owners like friends.

The real truth, I suddenly realized, was that the people here recognized something I was too stubborn to admit. They recognized the connection that I had made to their town.

And that made me something more than a tourist to them.

That made me connected to
them
.

I slid out of the booth, no longer able to pretend the situation was any different from what it was. “Come outside,” I said to Andrew. “We need to talk.”

“We just got our drinks,” he argued.

I didn’t argue back. Instead I turned on my heel and strode out, knowing he would follow because he hated to make a scene.

The waves crashed onto the beach, the surf lit up under the moonlight, and I leaned against the boardwalk railing, knowing in that moment that I was about to do the exact right thing. Maybe the first right thing I’d done in a long time.

“What the hell is going on?” Andrew said behind me.

I slowly turned to face him, not nervous, not uneasy. Calm. And resolute. “I need to be honest. I don’t want to be in a relationship with you, Andrew. I’m sorry.”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I never had a chance to.”

“Well.” He laughed shortly. “This is preposterous. It’s this place. The people. That woman”—he jerked his thumb over his shoulder—“so aggressive. You’ll feel differently when you’re away from her and at home.”