Chapter 21

 

Connor

 

I really hope I don’t fuck this up. But things are to the point where I have to at least try. The thought of Whitney leaving and that being the end of things was driving me crazy. Her actually leaving wasn’t great either, but we’ve made plans to see one another again next weekend, so that helps. Today’s Monday, so I only have four more days before I get to see her again. I’m taking off early on Friday and flying up there.

I’m seriously considering buying a plane. Hell, the resort needs one anyway, doesn’t it? Okay, maybe not. We’ve survived this long without one, true. But if we had a private plane I could see Whitney anytime I wanted. I could send the plane for her anytime she wanted to come down.

Back when I was living on the boat, I’d thought about buying a plane then too. It would definitely make overland travel a lot easier.

But I’m not going to think about my wandering days. I’m going to see if I can do the roots thing.

Even if the thought of a permanent commitment here is just as unsettling as it’s ever been.

I don’t know why. I do like the work here, and it’s no small part of me that wants to stay. Rayce and Lizzy want me to stay. Whitney wants me to stay. So I’m going to try.

Rayce comes into my office, holding a folded up newspaper in his hand and looking cross. Here’s a step I haven’t taken: I haven’t said anything about this to Rayce. All he’s wanted from me is a decision, or at least an indication of which way I’m leaning. I finally have something I can give him... but I don’t feel ready to tell him yet. I don’t know why.

It might be because there’s still something restless inside me, gnawing at me. I hope not. Maybe I’ll tell him tomorrow.

“Do you have the Haven Group report?” he asks. It’s not late. He’s just obsessing. He’s in one of his grouchy moods again. He didn’t use to be this way, but ever since Mom and Dad died...

“I’m finishing it up now.” I glance at him. My hands don’t stop on the keyboard as I continue a sentence I’m writing. “I’ll send it over soon.”

“Can you give me an ETA?”

“Yes. The estimated time of arrival is five minutes after I finish it.” I can’t help it. It irks me when he acts like this.

He huffs and plops the folded up newspaper on my desk. This time I do stop what I’m doing to see what headline he’s showing me this time. It’s been awhile since there have been any articles in the local paper about the resort, or us, and I’ve been more than happy to be off the radar.

Before I even see which paper it is, I see the picture. It’s one of me and Whitney dancing on Friday night. It’s pretty hot, actually, and it’d make for a hell of a picture if it weren’t in the stupid paper.

I don’t even have to look to know this is Rita Becker’s gossip column in the Voice, but my eyes skip over byline to verify it anyway. Yep, there it is. Headline: “Wild Child Living Up to the Rivers Name?” I roll my eyes. It must be a slow day in Swan Pointe for the Voice to consider my dancing at Martini Ranch to be gossip worthy.

Swan Pointe’s local Indie rag can be categorized by mostly intelligent (if sometimes scathing) editorial essays, trendy feature articles, thorough coverage of Swan Pointe’s Indie arts and music scene, and personal ads wherein local residents can find their next gardener, accountant, or masseuse willing to give them a happy ending. I’d like their publication a lot better if they didn’t pump up Rita’s ego by giving her regular print space.

“Did you see this?” Rayce asks.

“No.” I return to my report, wondering if I need to give Whitney a head’s up. I probably should. She won’t see it in San Francisco, but she should know about it anyway.

“Aren’t you going to read it?”

“No.”

I’ll read it later. I’m just trying to be difficult. But he’s the one who came into my office with attitude. I haven’t even done anything to him today.

“You should be more careful.” He gestures to the paper.

“We were just dancing.”

“Uh huh. At least have the common sense to go somewhere private, instead of, say, making out on the grounds for everyone to see.”

I glance up. Someone must’ve seen me kiss Whitney in the labyrinth, but I’m too irritated to ask who. Whatever’s going on with him, I wish he’d get over it already and stop taking things out on me. Maybe he’s the one who needs a girl. Who the fuck knows.

“We weren’t making out.”

“That’s not what Olivia Walsh said. She came to Lizzy crying because she saw you and that girl making out in the gardens.”

“Her name is Whitney, and why would Olivia Walsh be crying about that?”

“Because she’s secretly in love with you.”

“Good lord.” I roll my eyes. “Stop being such a drama queen. Do you want me to finish this report or not?”

“You know, you represent this resort, Connor.”

“Yes. I know.” I’ve heard this before. I’ve heard it for years, and I do know it’s important. I don’t take that lightly. But at the same time, you can’t let this kind of gossip bullshit get to you. Rayce knows this. But these days, everything gets to him. He never used to have such a short fuse.

“People are watching us now. They’re waiting for us to screw up and prove we can’t do what Mom and Dad did here. We need to be careful.”

I soften a bit at this. We’ve all felt the pressure of being handed our parents’ legacy years before we were ready. “Everything’s fine,” I say, letting go of my inclination to poke at him and really looking him in the eye. “The resort is fine. And the papers have moved on to the next story. This is just Rita getting her jollies.”

He softens too. God, the way we have to tiptoe around each other these days. I miss like hell the way it used to be.

I gesture to my computer screen. “Fifteen minutes, all right?”

He sighs and nods. “All right. Thanks.”

Ten minutes later I’ve sent Rayce the report and am on to the next thing.

I’ve been feeling restless all morning and am resisting the urge to go the Activity Manager’s office to see if there’s a zip line guide who’d like a few hours off. Not that I ever have trouble convincing someone to give me part of their shift; I don’t want to take away from anyone’s income, so they still get paid. Working the zip line is one of my go-to strategies for when things get to be too much.

You might think it’s Rayce who’s getting to me, but it isn’t. I mean, I don’t like how things are right now with us, but that’s not it. My itchy feet just get the better of me sometimes and I have to get out of the office. I’ll take a group down the zip line or run a kayaking excursion or something. Often I’ll have to work late to make up for it, but it’s worth it.

I’ve been having more problems with this over the past couple months. More and more frequently I’ll wake up, like today, feeling like I’m going to go crazy if I can’t get the hell out of dodge.

Lizzy’s called me out on it recently, too. About a week ago, we were all feeling the pressure building thanks to our upcoming meeting with George Hollister and my continued inability to make a decision about whether or not I’m here to stay. Lizzy confided something I found unsettling: “I fear one day I’m going to wake up and you’ll be gone.”

I was offended at first, even though deep down I knew her fears were valid.

She knew it too, and when I tried to protest she said, “Remember when you took your boat out?”

Not counting my recent outing with Whitney, I’ve taken my boat out exactly one time since I’ve been home. At first, I told myself I wasn’t going out boating because I was too busy. Those first several months, that was true. We were beyond busy. After things settled down though, it became clear I was avoiding it. I kept it stocked and maintained. I could’ve gone down to the docks and taken her out any time I wanted. But for the longest time, I didn’t.

Finally, I decided to try it. I took a weekend and went as far down the coast as I could and still be back in time for work on Monday. That trip did nothing but confirm my fears.

I still remember the moment it was time for me to turn around and come back. I sat in the captain’s chair on the upper deck, both hands gripping the wheel, the rough sea winds whipping around me. I let my gaze go soft on the horizon. In one direction Mexico, South America. In another Hawaii, or Japan. I’ve never been to Japan. They were all calling to me from over the sea. But I’m needed here too.

It was a tough battle to win.

“I didn’t think you were going to come back,” Lizzy said.

“Well, I did.” But she only looked more concerned. “I won’t do that to you.” I still didn’t know what my final decision was going to be, but I did know I couldn’t just abandon them on a whim like that. “I promise.”

She didn’t look at all comforted. It was disturbing.

“Don’t you believe me?”

“I believe... you don’t want to.”

That was too much. I still don’t know if it’s because what she was saying wasn’t true, or because it was. “You know, I’ve been here almost eight months, Lizzy. That’s not nothing.”

“I know.”

“I’ve been here right alongside you guys, and yet that doesn’t seem to be enough.”

“No, we appreciate it. It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about? Haven’t I done enough to show I can be dependable? I think I’ve come through for you. Why does that mean nothing?”

“It means everything,” she said, her voice breaking. I can still hear the way her voice broke, and the way her face looked. When she continued, she maintained her composure, but her voice still quivered a bit. “That’s part of the problem. We love having you here and—”

“We?” I interrupted.

“Yes, we. Rayce really missed you when you were gone.”

“I think he’d be fine to get rid of me now.”

“That’s not true. I know he’s been... kind of difficult lately.” When I gave her a wry look, she said, “Hey, you’ve been feeding into it too, kiddo.”

“Don’t call me kiddo.”

“Look, this hasn’t been easy for anyone, you know. And I know we keep telling you we’d need time to find a replacement, but the truth is, it’s more than that. We’re just... trying to prepare ourselves to lose you again and it’s hard not knowing when that will be.”

That’s when I really felt like an ass. As if they haven’t lost enough already.

At the pained look on my face, she said, “Don’t feel badly. I’m not trying to guilt you. That’s why I haven’t said anything, but I really think you need to make a decision with your head before your feet make it for you. It’ll be bad timing for everyone if that happens.”

“Why do you both keep talking about it like you know I’m going to go?”

She let out a humorless laugh. “Because. We know you and we see that wildness in your eyes. You’re starting to lose it, Connor.”

Now, sitting in my office, with memories of Whitney still fresh on my skin, I’m determined not to be losing it. I have to find a way to tame my restless side. I have to find a way to make this work. Other people manage to have lives like this. I should be able to do it, too.

Right?

I get a text from Lizzy. I know she’s in for the day because her office door is open, but she must be busy elsewhere because I haven’t actually seen her yet.

Lizzy: Where are you?

See what I mean?

Me: In my office.

Lizzy: I need to talk to you about the Zurwicky wedding. Can we chat in 20?

Me: I’ll be here.

I turn back to my computer and try to focus on the email I’m drafting. I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin. I take a few deep breaths, and it helps a little. I haven’t felt this unsettled in a long time.

Maybe I’m struggling so much today because we took the boat out. Maybe I shouldn’t have. But I wasn’t going to tell Whitney no.

Speaking of, my phone dings and it’s a text from her.

I smile instantly.

Whitney: I miss you already.

Me: Me too. Four more days.

Whitney: I can’t wait. We get to see each other on purpose!

I laugh. I think about sending her a text back, but impulsively hit “Call” instead and get up to shut the door so we can talk privately.

“Hi,” she answers. I hear the smile on her face.

I sink back into my chair and lean back, smiling too. “Hey. I wanted to hear your voice.”

And maybe that really is all I’ve needed, because as we begin to talk, whatever’s been restless inside of me settles in deep, and grows still.