“Everyone goes through stuff, Vivian. She’s thinking about leaving San Diego and moving up north. She needed to talk it out. Sometimes you just need to say things out loud to really hear it.”
“I can say some things out loud,” I muttered, staring up at him. So tall. So angry. When had he gotten so angry?
He nodded to someone behind me, and I turned to see my girls flanking me.
“Make sure she gets home okay?” he said quietly to Jessica, and she nodded.
Which made me angry.
“I don’t need someone to make sure I get home okay. I can take care of myself, you know,” I snapped.
He just looked at me flatly.
I didn’t like that. If anything, I preferred the angry Clark.
He turned away, chatted with John for a minute, and took his pizza. Then he gathered his cousin from the other end of the bar, where she waved a good-bye.
He was gone. I was drunk. With half my bra out.
I was ready to go home.
I woke up with a ball of awful in my mouth, which turned out to be my tongue. With each step toward the bathroom, I was reminded of how very bright the sunshine was here, how very loud seagulls could be, and how very briny the ocean smelled when it was right outside your window. The window letting in all that damned light.
As I weaved down the hallway, Caroline appeared in her doorway, fresh and pretty, the f**ker.
“Morning, sunshine,” she said, and I punched her in the shoulder. Not hard. “Nice,” she said.
I nodded back and made for the sink. With a mouthful of toothpaste I splashed water over my face and evaluated. And then evacuated the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Caroline thoughtfully closed the door as I sat on the floor, waving her away.
“I’m going to get you some saltines,” she called, and I moaned a thank-you. I let my body get its bearings for a moment, then splashed some water on my face a second time. Also tried the toothbrush a second time. Feeling a little better, I grabbed my robe off the back of the door and made my way downstairs.
In the kitchen, Caroline was tearing apart my pantry. “No saltines, but I found some oyster crackers.”
I smiled weakly. “I’ll take ’em. And if you could just hit me over the head with a sledgehammer, that’d be great.”
“No sledgehammer handy; how about a screwdriver?” She followed me to the table, setting down the crackers and some water.
“As long as it’s the tool, not the cocktail. Anything will feel better than the hell I’m currently in.” I sipped the water gratefully and munched on a few crackers. “Did I really unbutton my shirt in front of half the town last night?”
“You did. The table next to us was taking bets on whether you’d take your bra off, Flashdance style.” She moved around the kitchen in a blur, pouring coffee, flipping burners.
“How’d you figure out how to do that so fast? It took me weeks to get that damn stove to work,” I said. “Not to mention the percolator.”
“I installed one of these stoves for a client and was fascinated by it. I thought about putting one in our new kitchen, but my love for a Viking won out.”
“Vikings are hot,” I agreed, and sipped some more water.
“Speaking of hot, you want to talk about last night?”
“Nope,” I told my crackers.
“Not at all? You don’t want to talk about how you ran over to see who Clark was having dinner with?”
“Nope.”
“While in the middle of telling us a story about how you’re destined for some cowboy?”
“Nope.”
“Okay.” She walked over with her coffee and toast and sat across from me. Saying nothing.
“It was his cousin,” I said, taking a piece of her toast. “In case you were wondering.”
“I had a feeling it was something like that,” she said, barely hiding her grin.
I’d have rolled my eyes, but they felt like they’d been dipped in sand. But mentally? Epic eye roll.
Caroline stayed until after lunch, walking me through some final thoughts she had for the house. I showed her the attic, and told her my idea for turning it into a studio. Not having any idea I’d been an artist in my other life, she was thrilled with the idea and made me promise to show her some work next time she was in town. “Better yet, send me some pictures when you get things up and running again.” I tried to explain to her that it had been years since I’d actually painted, and that who knows what would happen when I actually got up there and started playing around, but blah-blah-blah, she wouldn’t hear it.
Simon was flying in tonight from Mexico, and she was anxious to get back before he did. I envied her. I admit it. She had a man who adored her and no doubt ravaged her to within an inch of her life. She had that glow, so it was safe to assume. More important, she had someone who said I love you. Woke up to it, walked in the park with it, sat on the couch next to it, and heard it during the sexy times. Big, sappy sigh.
Holding my arm in a sisterly way as we walked out to her car, she took a deep breath of ocean air before throwing her bag into the backseat. “It really is kind of magical up here. Simon and I need to start heading north more often.”
“My door is always open, come on up whenever.”
She pulled me in for a close hug. “Be careful, okay?”
“Okay. You be careful too?” I said, confused.
“Seriously, Viv. I know you think you’re in this romance novel—”