Casanova

It was the least I could do.

At least, it was according to Connie.

I now knew better than to argue with a pregnant woman. Especially that pregnant woman.

I liked the quiet that being on the outskirts of room gave me. Okay, quiet was an exaggeration, but it allowed me to think. Mostly about Brett’s secret and my future here in Whiskey Key.

I wasn’t lying when I said to him he was a reason to stay.

He was.

I couldn’t deny the way things had changed. I couldn’t ignore the butterflies he gave me just by looking at me or the way my body reacted to him. The way I reacted to him. It had almost become a new normal. The tingles and the heat and the racing heart.

It was effortless too. He could look at me across a crowded room and I’d still feel the same.

I was in love with him. Completely, utterly, wholly, irrevocably. There was no way out from this. I didn’t want a way out. I didn’t when I loved him as a teenager and I didn’t now.

If soul mates existed, he had to be mine. There was no other explanation for the way we both felt about the other after so many years.

So much had changed, but the fierceness with which I was able to love him hadn’t.

If I regretted anything, it was not telling him I loved him when he told me.

But I’d wanted him to fight. I’d wanted him to prove on some ridiculous level that he really, truly wanted me. He’d done it though. He’d won that the moment he told me he wanted me to love him because I wanted to, not because he’d made me.

That alone showed me that maybe his love was worth more than mine, although mine was the only one that had never really been in question.

To me. He’d questioned it the way I’d questioned his.

Then again, he’d never questioned the way he loved me.

Our biggest tragedy was naive teenage stupidity and fear. If we’d gotten through that, we could get through any secret he had buried in his closet...couldn’t we?

Because I wanted to. That’s what I wanted to do. I wanted him to fight for me, but I wanted to fight for him too.

Brett needed fighting for. Insecurity wasn’t a quality he shared with anyone very easily, but I’d seen it tonight. It’d been all over his face. Insecurity and fear plagued him, and I was in the center of that. I wasn’t the cause of it, but I was sure as hell the catalyst for it.

I didn’t see how he could have done something that made him feel that way.

Unless he’d killed a puppy. Then we’d have issues.

“Lani.”

I turned at the sound of my boss’ voice. “Mr. Reeves. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. Yourself?”

“Can’t complain.”

“Can we have a word?”

“Of course.” I followed him just outside the doors, clutching my half-full wine glass still. I’d been so lost in thought I pretty much forgot I was holding it.

The noise quieted significantly when we stopped a few feet away from the giant room.

“What’s up?” I asked him, holding my glass to my chest.

“I overheard Bel Walker earlier this evening. She referenced the Walker secret.”

“I don’t know it,” I said straight away. “I asked him but he wouldn’t tell me.”

All right, so I was a dirty liar.

Mr. Reeves studied me for a moment. “Really?”

“He wouldn’t tell me a thing.” At least that was kind of honest.

I wanted to say more, but something told me it would be overkill.

I didn’t want him to know that I was going to find out soon.

“Do you think he’ll tell you?”

I opened my mouth, but the words I planned to say didn’t come out.

What came out surprised even me.

“Mr. Reeves, I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”

He tilted his head to the side. “This?”

“All of it.” I took two steps back. “I don’t think this is working. Please consider this a termination of the trial period. I’ll have a formal resignation to you tomorrow.”

I didn’t wait for him to answer. I walked past him back into the room and lost myself in the busyness of it all.

My heart pounded, but not in a good way.

I wanted to stay in Whiskey Key—a decision I’d made no more than three hours ago on that balcony with Brett—but I now had no job.

Clearly, it was off to a fabulous start.

I sighed and sat at my table. Aunt Bel was sitting in her chair, asleep. Her arms were folded across her chest which rose and fell gently. How could she sleep in this noise?

It must be a trick only for babies and the elderly.

Shame I couldn’t be taught it. I could have done with a nap, if only for five minutes to shut out the world.

“He really loves you, you know,” Aunt Bel said, her eyes still closed.

I hid my mouth behind my wine glass. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Nope. Just listening.”

“To what?”

“Everything.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.” Aunt Bel snapped her eyes open.

“How the hell did you know that?”

She grinned. “Lucky guess. You just confirmed it.”

I rolled my eyes for a second time. Just to make a point. “Whatever. Do you know where Brett is?”

“He’s right behind you.”

I turned around and looked right into his smiling face. “Oh, hi.”

His eyes twinkled. “Dance with me?”

“Um, I don’t dance.”

“Neither do I.” He held one hand out anyway. “So, we’ll both look like complete idiots.”

I looked at him for a moment before I said, “Fine.”

His long fingers curved around mine as I put my hand in his. He pulled me up slowly, then with a nod to Aunt Bel, pulled me over to where a band was playing. Other people were dancing too, and Brett winked at me before he pulled me close and circled my arms with his waist.

“I thought your mom said there was some kind of auction,” I said into his ear as I looped my arms around his neck.

“In around half an hour,” he replied, his lips right by my ear. “We’ll be gone before then.”

I was about to ask what for, but of course I knew that.

I didn’t want to think about it though. I was comfortable where were, pressed against each other and swaying in time to the music. Thank god neither of us could dance, because we weren’t dancing.

Not the kind of dancing you think of normally at least. We were one-year-old-in-front-of-the-TV dancing. It worked for us.

Mostly I just liked the way he held me. It wasn’t too tight, but it was just tight enough that I couldn’t move away even if I wanted to. He tickled his thumb across my back just above my dress which sent shivers up my spine, and his warm, gentle breaths danced across my ear as he pressed his cheek against the side of my head.

It felt an awful lot like the moment you stopped falling love and hit the ground hard.

No matter what he said to me tonight, I would tell him. I would tell him I felt the same way he did.

For some reason. Despite it all.

I didn’t want revenge anymore.

I didn’t want to break his heart.

I wanted to own it.

“Everybody is staring at you,” he murmured just loud enough for me to hear.

“Is that why you sound smug?”

He pressed his lips against the side of my head and laughed into my hair.