Chapter 1

A Little Turbulence

During this entire five-hour red-eye flight from New York to California, thoughts of my first love, Raymond Colton, and the ice creamery keep me awake. Okay, maybe not the ice creamery as much as recollections of the man whose lightest caress aroused my deepest desires—and whose heart I had callously broken. Privately, I always envision him as my favorite ice cream flavor—mocha chocolate swirl. His smooth, brown skin is the identical shade as the mocha ice cream that’s sold in his family’s creamery. His deep-set eyes are as dark as the ribbon of chocolate that adds such a perfect touch of sweetness.

Regardless of my recent, futile attempts to distract myself with dating other men, and the demands of the advertising job I’d left, one nagging question repeatedly surfaces—can my ex-boyfriend find it in his heart to forgive me and give us a second chance at love? Neither the mystery novel lying unopened in my lap nor the award-winning in-flight film prevent me from wondering if there’s any possibility of rekindling the spark that continues to haunt my dreams.

“We’ll be landing in fifteen minutes, so fasten those seatbelts.” The pilot’s soothing voice reverberates throughout the aircraft. “Thank you for flying with us today. The weather in Los Angeles is a sunny and warm seventy-eight degrees. Attendants, prepare for landing.”

There’s a flurry of activity as the attendants speed-walk down the aisle, carefully scanning passengers’ laps for seatbelt infractions. They don’t have to pause when they stroll past me; the metal buckle that secures me safely in my seat is always on. No matter how frequently I make this bicoastal trip, I’ve never been able to sit back and enjoy the ride. As I close my eyes and prepare for our descent, the front of the plane abruptly tilts downward, causing my stomach to do a quick somersault.

“Folks, we are experiencing a little turbulence.” The pilot chuckles before continuing, “Attendants, please take your seats.”

Sure, it’s easy for him to be jovial when this is just another day at his office in the sky. Personally, I don’t believe that the word little should ever be placed in front of the word turbulence.

Wiping the trickle of sweat from my brow, I wonder which one is more anxiety-provoking—the prospect of a rough landing or confronting my ex-boyfriend. It’s a toss-up because neither is appealing.

I pull down the shade to block the view of the white cumulus clouds above the cerulean Pacific Ocean. Gritting my teeth, I fortify my resolve to face the future—including meeting with Raymond. I need to unravel the tangled web of confusion and its suffocating tentacles from our relationship. It’s time for me to finally move forward, with or without the man who was the love of my life.

****

The chatty driver—who doesn’t look a day over eighteen—grins at me in the rearview mirror before coming to an abrupt halt in front of my mother’s pink-and-white stucco home. I clutch the edge of the back seat and struggle to remain upright, afraid that if I let go, I’ll topple to the sticky floor below.

“We’re here.” He fiddles with a knob on the dashboard before twisting around to face me. “I popped the trunk for you.” He grins, revealing shiny metal braces, then shoves his faded blue baseball cap farther back on his forehead while giving me a thumbs-up sign with a hand that’s covered with cartoon tattoos.

“Thanks.” Before I can say anything else, like, could you help me with my luggage? he’s swiveled back around and intently studying his cell phone. Obviously, earning a tip for doing a little extra is not high on his list of priorities.

On legs wobbly from the action-packed ride, I make my way to the trunk where I haul the oversize bags out, then drag each piece individually across the cracked sidewalk, up three porch steps, and through the front door.

My mother is at work until five o’clock, but Riley, her tan-and-brown Chihuahua, enthusiastically greets me at the door. He turns around in circles and frantically wags his tail before jumping up to press his paws against my legs.

“Hi, Riley.” I run my hand across his soft fur before scratching behind his ears as he licks my cheek. “You love me, don’t you, boy?” I take his soft whimper as a yes. “You, my friend, are the one male whose loyalty I’ll never question, and, because of that, I have a special treat for you.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a chicken-flavored dog treat. I laugh as he snatches it and trots off to his dog bed in the living room.

Before heading down the hall to my room, I pause long enough to inhale the co-mingled scents of lemon furniture polish and fresh flowers that are placed throughout the house. My mother always says that flowers will brighten any day. Evidence of her creative skills are evident everywhere—in the curving, brown ceramic vase that holds the bright yellow daffodils on the dinette table, the magenta hand-blown glass bowl on the coffee table, and the patchwork quilt on the couch. A smile spreads across my face as I gaze down at the sewn-together pieces of fabric and recognize scraps of cloth from my childhood. Later, after she returns home from work, we’ll catch up, but, right now, I need to roll these suitcases out of the hallway and into my room.

Sitting on my twin bed, I rub my palm across the nubby green, yellow, and orange comforter with matching throw pillows and curtains. Nothing has changed here since my previous visit two years ago, or—really—since eight years ago when I graduated from high school. Not the white dresser adorned with a heart-shaped mirror, the stack of faded teen magazines on the nightstand near the bed, and definitely not the poster-sized framed photograph of the infamous Raymond Colton, Prom King extraordinaire, high school football champion, and the only man I’ve ever been able to trust with my heart.

A lot of good it did me.

Abruptly standing, I banish any thoughts of the past from my muddled mind and stoically remind myself that coming back here is not about reliving past mistakes, but about new beginnings.

Raking a hand through my untamed curls, I vow to discover the truth once and for all about what was real and what was pure, unadulterated wishful thinking on my part. Once I have that clear, I can move on, past whatever rejection or pain may be revealed, and finally begin to live my life. Ruminating about what happened during my last visit to Sunnyville isn’t productive. Still, if anything can be salvaged, well, that’s another story. Either way, I’m twenty-six and old enough to face reality.

It feels good to stretch my legs and make the short trek from the house to the creamery. The pilot was right; the weather is perfect. The sun warms my bare arms and legs as I stroll along the sidewalk adjacent to the beach. A fine mist of ocean water cools my skin. I’ve missed the sound of the undulating waves crashing against the shoreline and even the loud squawking of the always-hungry white-and-black marked seagulls diving to peck remnants of leftover food.

All too soon, I’m standing outside the creamery, the one place that has always felt like a second home. So why, then, do I have a sudden case of the jitters? I could turn around and go home, wait patiently for my mother to return with a big ol’ hug.

Instead, I inhale deeply and strengthen my resolve. After all, Mr. Colton is always happy to see me. I remember pretending that he was my father since I hadn’t seen my own father since I was two years old. There’s no use fixating on childhood events, not when I have unfinished business with a man from my more recent past. Plus, it’s been two years; Raymond can’t still hold a grudge, can he?

Using one hand to block the bright sun, I peer at the tattered gray awning as if I’ll find the answers to my dilemma there. Half the stenciled letters are missing from eight years ago when a rare storm had plowed through town and left behind little evidence of its fury except for the missing o and n so that it spells Colt instead of Colton. Beige curtains that keep the inside cool cover the tinted front windows. Looking down, I scrape sand off the bottom of my sandals onto the black rubber welcome mat outside the door. Mr. Colton trained us well. How many times had he told Raymond and me that we’d better not track sand in from outside? He said he couldn’t prevent the tourists from bringing in buckets of sand because they were paying customers, but we were locals and ought to know better. And, if we ever forgot, we knew we would get a scolding. I loved it when he’d wag his finger in our direction and set us straight because I’d imagined that this was the type of reprimand that kids who had fathers at home heard all the time.

I open the door and, as it slams shut behind me, a lyrical chime reverberates. So many times that chime had prevented Raymond and me from sneaking unnoticed out the front door, even when his father was in the back room.

“Hold on.” Mr. Colton’s voice, deep as ever, comes from the back room. “I’ll be right with you.”

There’s only one customer, an older woman, bent over her bowl of ice cream and sitting at a table near the front window. A faint smile on her face, she nods in my direction as I stroll past her. Not seeing Raymond causes relief to flow through me, even if this is the reason I returned to Sunnyville. I’ve waited so long to get to the bottom of what happened to us, but now my palms are sweaty, and I’m facing the real possibility that he’ll let me know that he never felt anything but affection for me. I rub my hands against my denim dress and take a deep fortifying breath. After all, there’s plenty of time for me to speak to him later. Maybe even tomorrow. There’s no need to rush—even if my pulse does quicken at the thought. He’s probably wondering why I didn’t respond to the emails and text he’d sent for the first six months after I left. There will be time for explanations later.

Wandering around the ice cream parlor, I peruse the familiar items: the red-backed, patio-style chairs, small round tables that seat two, and the burgundy-and-black-checked booths that are perfect for larger groups. Raising my brows, I notice the addition of two new frozen yogurt machines along the back wall. I know frozen yogurt is popular, but nothing can replace the deliciousness of homemade ice cream. Walking over to the large freezer, I explore the options, all the while knowing I’ll be sticking to my tried-and-true favorite—mocha chocolate swirl. Before I can spot what I’m looking for, Mr. Colton appears from the backroom, a white apron tightly wrapped across his middle.

“Rebecca Landers.” Setting an ice cream scooper onto a table, he rushes over to greet me with a warm hug. Holding me at arm’s length, he shakes his head as his lips tilt up at the corners in a welcoming grin. He’s gained a few pounds since I saw him two years ago, no doubt as a result of sampling the best ice cream in Sunnyville. “It’s been too long. Just look at you. You are as beautiful as ever, it’s no wonder my son—”

“Dad.” Raymond’s voice, sharp as a blade, slices through the air. He stands in the doorway, letting in a cold draft of air that sends a chill down my spine. He’s tall, almost reaching the top of the door, and his long fingers brace the doorframe before he strides into the room. Heavy brows form a v-shaped scowl over broad nostrils. His mouth is pressed together in a tight grimace as he pierces me with a steely glare.

“Raymond.” I draw out his name, wanting to say more, but unable to think clearly, much less speak coherently. He’s looking at me with open hostility, and I stumble back as if from a physical blow and reach out and grasp the nearest chair. It’s as if Raymond’s energy has sucked the air out of the room, leaving me breathless and dry-mouthed.

“Look who’s returned.” Mr. Colton places a reassuring hand on my back, and I regain my equilibrium even as I look down, away from his son’s silent glare. “And she’s just as pretty as ever.”

The tension is broken by the bell ringing as a tousle-haired boy who can’t be more than ten years old rushes up to the counter and frantically digs in his pants pocket then drags out a plastic bag filled with loose change. Turning it upside down, he releases the coins with a clatter across the counter.

“I’ve got a customer who wants some ice cream.” Mr. Colton’s eyes dart to the boy who’s now collecting the fallen coins from the floor. “We are happy to have you back, aren’t we, Raymond?” When Raymond doesn’t respond, Mr. Colton raises his brows at his only son before shaking his head and walking toward the counter.

“Dad, I can take care of him.” Raymond nods toward the boy whose hands are now plastered against the glass as he excitedly peers into the case.

“You sure? Cause if you are, I’ve got some paperwork I need to take care of.” Mr. Colton is already moving toward the back when he pauses long enough to give me a quick wink. “Really glad you’re back.”

“Thank you, Mr. Colton. I am too.” Pulling out a chair, I take a seat to wait for Raymond to help his customer.

It’s true—I am happy to be near my mother and the friends I’ve left behind, but the man holding out an ice cream cone to an eager little boy will be the litmus test of the wisdom of my decision to return to Sunnyville.

Tapping the table, I remember my promise to love him forever, but that had been long before I’d rejected him not once, but twice. I can’t blame those dark, brooding eyes for glaring at me as if I was the last person he wanted to see in the world. It’s an understatement to say that he’s as handsome as ever. Somehow, he’s grown more attractive during the last two years.

Raymond brushes the coins across the counter into the cash register before sauntering over to my table. His brown eyes pierce me with a look of pure disdain as his lips tighten into a grimace before he yanks out a chair and sits across from me. “So?” he says expectantly as he stretches out his long legs and folds his hand across his middle.

“Hello, Raymond.” Memories and regrets flood through me as I take in his smooth, brown skin and the faded scar across the bridge of his nose from a bicycle fall. Clasping my hands, I force myself not to fiddle with them since he and I both know it’s a dead give-away that I’m nervous, guilty, or, most likely, both. “How are you?”

“What are you doing here?” The familiar voice is deep and steady with a coldness that rattles my determination to confront the mistakes of the past.

Does he think I don’t belong in my hometown because I went away to college and didn’t immediately return after graduation? “This is still my home.” Straightening my shoulders, I resolve not to allow Raymond to intimidate me the way he did his opponents on the football field. With a sinking sensation, I know that returning to Sunnyville with expectations of re-igniting a past passion with him may never happen, but I’m not going to slink away like a frightened child. I have questions that need answers—if not now, then later.

“We didn’t see you for two summers.” He spews out the bitter words as he avoids looking at me. “Guess you were too busy with your big-city life.”

“We need to talk.” I hold my hands out, squelching the apprehension surging through me as if I’m about to jump off the diving board into the deep end of a pool, unable to swim and without a life vest.

“I’m busy.” Shrugging his broad shoulders, he abruptly stands and heads to the sink. Grabbing a cloth, he swipes the clean counter.

“Really?” I scan the almost-empty creamery and place my hands on my hips. “It doesn’t appear to be overflowing with customers.”

“Looks can be deceiving, can’t they?” A muscle twitches along his strong jawline. “You see things one way and I see something different.” He nods toward the door as if signaling that it’s time for me to leave. “I’ve got a business to run.”

“Raymond.” I stand and hesitantly make my way toward him then tentatively reach out until I’m almost touching his arm before I think better of it and drop my hand to my side. “I’d like it if we could…”

“What?” He steps back, his eyes utterly devoid of any emotion as if he’s speaking to a stranger. “You made yourself very clear the last time you were here.” He curls his upper lip and scowls at me. “You said you didn’t feel as if you belonged here. That it no longer felt like home.”

“Oh dear,” the elderly woman eating in the back exclaims loudly. I had forgotten she was there and, when I glance in her direction, bright green eyes twinkle encouragingly back at me.

“It’s more complicated than that.” Exasperated, I refocus on Raymond while fighting the tightness in my chest. “And you know it.”

“As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing left to say.” With several long strides, he heads through the back door of the shop. “Good-bye, Rebecca,” he calls out as he disappears from sight. As usual, he looks as good going as he does coming.

My stomach coils tight as a sailor’s knot. Why had I deluded myself into believing that speaking with Raymond about our past was going to be easy? I drop my head and remember it’s not the first time reality has demolished my fantasies. How many birthdays had I spent expecting to see my father burst through the front door, pick me up in his arms, and swing me around before promising that he’d never leave again? More times than I can count. I should know better, but, observing Raymond as he walks away, I know that tenaciousness and hard work produce positive results in business but they might not do so in love. I need to get out of here before I embarrass myself even more.

As I pass the lone customer, she places her spoon onto the table by her bowl, dabs a paper napkin against her lips, then quickly rises from her chair to follow me outside.

“Hello.” She clutches a small handbag under her arm.

“Hi,” I respond glumly. I don’t want to appear rude, but I’m in no mood to make small talk with someone I don’t know. I squint as I step onto the sidewalk. That’s the thing about Sunnyville—even when you feel miserable, the sun is still shining.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” She chuckles before adding, “But I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.” She raises her chin and eyes me expectantly, but when I remain silent, she continues, “That was quite a scene back there.” She wags a finger at me. “I hope you aren’t going to let him off the hook that easily.”

I stop walking long enough to examine her face. Smile lines bracket her mouth, and pink blush tints her tanned cheeks. I’ve heard that lilting voice before. “Do I know you?”

Her eyes twinkle as she shakes her head. “Yes and no. I’m Marion Hightower. You have to imagine me looking a lot younger.” She smiles warmly as if the gesture will erase the years and, in a way, it does. “I used to work in the cafeteria at your high school. Nobody pays much attention to the cafeteria staff, but I sure noticed you two.”

“Really?” I reflect back to the few times I’d eaten in the cafeteria and try to recall the people who worked there. “I remember now. You worked behind the counter.”

“That’s right.” Weathered fingers smooth back loose wisps of wiry gray tendrils that have escaped her bun. “I couldn’t help but notice Raymond and you back then, but you had eyes only for each other. It was as if no one else existed in the world. Truth be told, I’d wished I’d had a man look at me the way that boy looked at you.”

“That was when we were teenagers.” I stifle a yawn and wonder why I’m speaking about my love life with a woman I hardly know. Maybe the lack of sleep and hunger have finally caught up with me. Plus, it’s not like she didn’t have a front-row seat to the entire heated exchange between Raymond and me. “You heard the man. It’s over. He won’t speak to me.”

“Fiddlesticks.” She stops long enough to stomp her purple sneakers. “Don’t be overdramatic. Remember, you were Prom King and Queen. I worked at that school for over thirty years, and you two were the only couple that wasn’t faking it just for the fame and glory.”

“Excuse me? Fame and glory?” And she called me overdramatic? Being the queen was fun, but I’d hardly equate it with any type of celebrity status. “I don’t remember it being all that exciting.”

“Sure you do—the picture in the newspaper, the trophy, of course, and riding down Main Street in the float for the Founder’s Day Parade.”

“I’ve never thought about it that way, but, in any case, it was a long time ago. That man has moved on and it’s my fault. I didn’t push him away; I shoved him away before building a fence and locking him out.” We’ve been walking for several minutes, and I hesitate before stopping to turn left on Wylie Way, the side street that leads back home.

“Don’t be put off by his engagement to Leah Ann.” She smiles and winks at me as if we share a secret. “She can’t hold a candle to you.”

“What?” I gasp as I stare at Marion, wondering if I’d heard correctly. Is she referring to Leah Ann, who was my best friend at McChesney Middle School? During the first semester of high school, her pediatrician mother had been offered a promotion at a hospital in nearby Ocean Hills. Three months after her family moved, we’d stopped communicating as she adjusted to her new school, and I’d focused on navigating the social pitfalls of Sunnyville High. Had she returned to Sunnyville, too? I glance at Marion. “Can you repeat that?”

“You don’t need to worry about Leah Ann and Raymond, even if they have been an item.” She rolls her eyes and flicks her hand as if dismissing a fly.

“Raymond and Leah Ann?” My heart flutters, and my mouth drops open as I search Marion’s eyes for some clue that she’s unstable. Nope, don’t see it. Unfortunately for me, she appears calm and rational. How can she know the status of Raymond’s personal life? Even before the thought is completely formulated, I know the answer. Nothing travels faster than small-town gossip. Whether anyone wants them to or not, personal tidbits are practically impossible to keep from leaking out to the general public.

“Yep.” Marion nods and appears contemplative before continuing. “Let’s see, they’ve been seeing each other for about seven months or so. You know the bowling alley?” She inquisitively peers at me.

“Bobby’s Bowl-O-Rama?” I ask numbly. I should end this conversation now but, instead, I lean toward her, completely hooked, both dreading and needing to hear the sordid details of how my ex-boyfriend, the only man I have ever been able to love, has moved on and replaced me with my ex-best friend. My shoulders slump as I face the error of staying away too long. After two years, what did I expect? And to think I had the audacity to question Marion’s mental stability while I could be the poster model for delusional thinking. It’s totally unrealistic of me to have expected Raymond not to have moved on with his life just because I haven’t.

“Yes, that’s the one.” Marion snaps her fingers. “Sometimes they go there or to Charley’s Fish Shack. That place has the best view in town, and the fish isn’t bad either.”

“Well.” Sighing heavily and fighting a growing sense of defeat, I swallow the golf ball-sized lump that’s lodged in my throat. “I need to head home. Thanks for the update.”

Before I can walk away, she grasps my arm with a surprisingly strong grip and turns me so that I’m facing her. “I’ve seen the two of them together, and Raymond and you when you were a couple. There’s no comparison.” She releases my arm, and, with an elfin smirk, adds, “Take my word for it, she doesn’t have a chance. Not with you back in town.”

****

“Dad, why didn’t you tell me that Rebecca was back?” Seeing Rebecca brought back a flood of good memories that I’d worked hard to forget. “I could have used a heads-up, you know?” Heading over to the desk with the paper take-out containers, I select a medium-sized cup and walk to the frozen yogurt dispensers.

“I had no idea she was back.” Picking up a broom, he begins sweeping under the tables. “I was as surprised to see her as you were.” He pauses long enough to glance at me. “How do you feel about seeing her again?”

“It’s a free country.” Shrugging, I test each dispenser, making sure that the frozen yogurt flows freely. “Honestly, I don’t feel one way or another.” I’m not about to admit that seeing her was a shock, especially since she looked so pretty in that blue dress. Then again, what didn’t she look good in? She had a great figure.

I initially noticed her long legs and slender figure in her green-and-white high school cheerleader uniform. Most of the other cheerleaders were on the shorter side and always trying to get my attention, but not Rebecca. She was taller than the other girls and there’d been something serious about her. I could tell that she had bigger plans for her life than reciting cheers for a bunch of jocks. I should have left well enough alone, since she’d been out of my league, but it was that very fact that she’d been oblivious to me that had drawn me to her like a bear to honey.

Her dark brown hair is longer now, curlier, too, not like back in the day when she’d worn it short and straight. The new look suits her, not that I would ever tell her that. What we’d had is in the past and we have both moved on. There’s nothing left to say. Once summer is over, she’ll rush back to her big-city life. It isn’t anyone’s fault that she wanted more than what I had to offer two years ago.

“Really? You don’t care one way or the other about seeing Rebecca?” Setting the broom down, my father picks up a cup, spoon, and crumpled napkin from the table where Marion sat. “Just asking,” he continues, “because you appeared more than a little agitated.”

“I was fine,” I say more firmly than intended. “I am fine.” Shrugging, I continue with the lie, expanding it until I almost believe what I’m saying. “No big deal. It’s been a couple of years.”

“Okay.” He tosses the trash into the trash bin. “What about Leah Ann?”

“What about her?” I don’t want to talk about Leah Ann either. At least she likes it here and isn’t always trying to figure out a way to escape Sunnyville. Leah Ann actually likes Sunnyville and doesn’t think it’s not good enough for her—which is more than I can say about Rebecca.

“That reminds me… are you engaged to her?” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Why do people keep asking me that?” I temper the irritation that creeps into my voice. Still, it’s times like these—when everyone is snooping in my business—that I understand why Rebecca ditched this town and headed to a city where a person’s privacy is respected.

“Hmm,” Dad says while scratching his sideburns. “Maybe because she’s going around town wearing an engagement ring?” He stares at me pointedly. “Son, it’s as big as a boulder. Even I couldn’t miss seeing it when she came by looking for you the other day.”

“I didn’t buy it for her.” I rinse out the tester cup before crumpling it and turning to face him since he’s clearly not picking up on the fact that I’d prefer to focus on the creamery, not the shopping habits of the female species. “I can’t figure women out. She told me she spotted the ring in the jewelry store and, since it was on sale, she decided to purchase it. End of story.”

My dad angles his balding head to the side. “She’s trying to tell you something.”

“I don’t know what.” I’ve gotten good at blocking out what I don’t want to acknowledge. Maybe he’s right, and I don’t take a hint any better than he does.

Walking over to one of the tables, he pulls out a chair and frowns. “We need to talk about the shop.” He signals that I should take a seat opposite him.

“Now?” I glance at my watch. “Can’t it wait? We’re in the middle of the workday.”

“Look around you, son. No one’s here but you and me, and that’s what we need to discuss.”

“That’s why I suggested we purchase the frozen yogurt machines.” Taking a seat, I wonder what’s on his mind. “That’s what people want these days—more than ice cream.”

“Really?” My father folds his hands on the table. “That’s what you told me, so—” He nods in the direction of those machines. “—We made this investment, but I don’t see people lined up for frozen yogurt. Or our ice cream either. I didn’t have the heart to tell Rebecca that we no longer sell her favorite flavor or sundaes. And because you scared her off, she didn’t stay long enough to find that fact out for herself.”

“I didn’t scare her,” I respond dismissively. “Times change and so do eating habits. Everyone is more health-conscious and they want something lighter.”

“It sounds logical, and that’s why I went along with your plan.” Dad twists in his chair, scans the room, and shakes his head. “But where are the customers?”

“We have to give it time.” I sit up straighter, try not to tap my foot nervously against the floor. Interpreting his silence as a sign that he trusts my judgment, I continue, “They’ll come. Sure, revenue is down but it will turn around. We just have to give it more time.”

“If it was going to turn around, it would have already happened. The summer cottages are fully booked, and they aren’t knocking down the door to get in here.”

“I don’t know what else we can do.” I obtained my business degree from the local college so my father wouldn’t have to run the shop alone. Two and a half years ago, my mother died after a prolonged battle with cancer. This place had been her dream. She’d loved everything about it, the smell of ice cream, the children’s eager faces, and the cherry on top of the sundaes. The decline in business and the loss of my mother has taken its toll on both of us, but especially him. They had been married for almost thirty years.

“I appreciate your suggestions, and that’s why we added the yogurt, but we can’t afford to ignore the facts. There’s no way we can continue losing money at this rate. We’ve done everything we can, which is why it’s a blessing that Rebecca is here.”

“You lost me.” I jerk up from my chair as tension creeps into my shoulders at the mention of her name.

“Doesn’t she work at that fancy advertising and marketing company in New York?”

“Yes.” I sigh, suspicious of the direction of the conversation. We both know that Rebecca doesn’t work for just any advertising and marketing company. She works for the best company in New York. They win major awards every year, and it’s because of her. No surprise there. I cared too much to do anything to prevent her from reaching her potential, even if it took her thousands of miles away from me, so when she’d wanted to end it, I hadn’t put up a fight.

“What does that have to do with us? She doesn’t live here.” Agitated, I pace the floor. “She’ll be here for a couple of weeks—two, maybe three max, and then she’ll be gone. We don’t need her.”

“Don’t fool yourself. We could use all the help we can get, whether it’s for one week or two. It’s as simple as that. I can’t allow your pride to prevent us from asking her for some pointers on how we can prevent this ship from sinking. We’ve got too much at stake. This place was your mom’s dream, and I won’t let it fail.” With a pensive expression, he scratches his chin before looking at me, resignation in his eyes. “It’s your choice. If you don’t ask Rebecca, I will.”