Chapter 39

ZANDER

Have patience. But not too much. When there’s something you want, go after it. But if there’s something worth your while that you want bad enough, be patient.

The words from my mom’s letter repeat in my mind. But there’s no indication of how much time is too much damn time.

Fuck.

That’s the only way I can describe my state of mind. Or the paper cut left by Getty on my heart. She was like that swift quick slice you never saw coming but that stings like a bitch when it happens. And aches even more with each passing day.

Small but mighty. Goddamn knock-me-on-my-ass is what she is.

Especially since I want to call her. Hear her voice. See if she’s made any kind of decision yet.

But I don’t. I promised her I wouldn’t. That I’d give her time. And fuck if that’s not brutally hard to do. Lost time is something you can never get back.

So I’ve tried to focus on the race at hand. Using my frustration to own the damn track instead of tear myself apart. Well, that and try to get answers to the one thing that will fix this entire situation.

Identifying the woman in the picture.

I lift my face to the sky and close my eyes for a second, let the sun’s warmth hit my skin while I take a deep breath. I stand like that for a moment, Boston Harbor spread out below me from the balcony of my parents’ suite. I soak up the view, am reminded of the deck back on the island, and hate and love that I miss it all at the same time. The island had offered me quiet solitude. The feeling of being so small against nature’s wrath. The scent of Getty’s nail polish as she painted her nails when sitting beside me. That little “Good night” she murmurs before she falls asleep.

That’s why the text on my phone pisses me off even more, because it’s telling me I might still lose everything. The investigator I hired to look into the Instagram account hit a dead wall today. His text says the only info he could find is the account and the Gmail it’s associated with were created in the last month, and all are linked to false background information.

A race bunny out for a good time hiding it from her husband or boyfriend. Great. Just what I need is another asshole to deal with if he eventually finds the picture.

“That bad, huh?” Rylee pats my shoulder as she and Colton join me out on the balcony. She sets a bowl of chips and salsa out and my first thought is of Getty sitting across from me at the restaurant, seducing me with her words.

She’s fucking everywhere I look and nowhere I want her.

I roll my shoulders, try to focus on the positive in that she said she’d think about us. Hopefully the time apart will make her miss me as much as it’s making me miss her.

“So how are you going to fix this, Zander?” It’s Colton who speaks, but my gaze flicks over to Rylee. The one person I’ve confided in, and I know she’s spilled the details of our heart-to-heart to Colton. Didn’t expect any less but at the same time, fuck.

I want to roll my eyes. I want to cover my ears and pretend I didn’t hear him. But more than anything, I want advice. Assistance. Anything to get Getty back.

“Fuck if I know.” My laughter sounds hollow. I tip the beer back up to my lips and think of what to say next. “I know there’s something there. She feels it too. I just can’t figure a way to make her really listen to me.”

“Tell her you love her.”

Colton’s comment has me sputtering out a response. Choking over the words. “C’mon, now. Those are seriously strong words.”

“You don’t love her, then?” Eyebrows raised. Lips pursed. Green eyes challenging.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, do you or don’t you, Zee? Shit or get off the pot here. If you can’t admit it to yourself, you sure as hell aren’t going to convince her.”

It occurs to me that he’s absolutely right with his blunt truth. How can I ask her to overcome her fears if I can’t even admit the one thing that scares me to voice out loud?

“I doubt saying ‘I love you’ at this point is going to make her listen. She’s going to think I’m just saying it because I’m desperate. She’s afraid—will find any reason not to believe me. Fuck.” Panic settles in. I look at him, asking for help with my direct gaze. “How do I make her believe me?”

“Convince her she’s your water.”

“What?” I pinch the bridge of my nose. Look at him like he’s losing his mind.

“What’s the one thing you can’t live without?”

“Water?” My voice hesitant. Answer hopeful.

He nods his head. “How does water taste?”

“Like nothing.” I shrug, then glance over to Rylee, who is sitting there with a knowing smile on her face like she knows where he’s going with this. She just nods her head in encouragement. I look back at Colton as thoughts align. “Like nothing, but it’s really everything. You can’t live without it.”

“Exactly.” A lazy smile spreads on his lips. “She’s your water. Convince her you can’t live without her, son. That’s half the battle.”

It might be that easy, but still my mind is spinning on how exactly to do that when I thought that’s what I was trying to tell her before I left the house for Boston.

But I never told her I loved her.

Would that have mattered?

“What your dad’s saying, Zander, is that she’s been through a lot. You need to do something to prove to her you really mean it. Women love knowing you didn’t miss the little things. They love grand gestures that say you pay attention to all the reasons you love them.”

My heart stops. There are those two words again. Grand gestures. The same ones my mom used in her letter to me. The letter Rylee hasn’t read yet.

I’ve never believed it when people say they received a sign to do or not to do something. It’s all bullshit, if you ask me.

And yet how can it be a coincidence that both mothers in my life have said the same thing? Both used it to explain what I need to do to get the girl.

Now the question is, how grand is grand?