“I’m not loaded.” I look over at Matilda. “I don’t want or need anything from them. I have you.”
She’s smiling tearfully. “I’m so proud of you, JD.”
Royal and I both gasp like dying fish and she shakes her head. “Stop it. We’re not perfect. And Lauren wanted you to have that inheritance. You can give it to charity if you want, or start a nonprofit of your own, but in a few years, you’re going to take it. If only to keep it out of their hands.”
I can’t win an argument with Matilda. It’s never been done. “Yes, ma’am.”
She takes my hand in both of hers and looks into my eyes. “Now about that friend of Ken’s that Rick likes so much.”
As fast as that, my mood crashes. “Don’t start. I know I screwed things up with him. But… I think I love him.” I glance over at Royal. “I know I do. You were right. I need to find a way to tell him. Convince him I deserve another chance.”
Matilda walks back over to the file she’d set down on the table, opens it, and pulls out an envelope. “This might give you some ideas.”
I’m almost afraid to take it. We’ve had a few too many revelations today. “What is it?”
“Ken said it’s a letter from a man who reads your column. He needs some advice.” Her wink startles me so much it takes me a minute to register what she’s saying. “He calls himself Green’s Marine.”
Chapter Eleven
Sometimes all you want in life is to rewind the last two weeks and make a different decision, one that would guarantee you’d be cuddled up on the couch of the man you had a thing for, taking the occasional break to have hot, sweaty sex until you felt better about the world.
But time travel hasn’t been invented yet, so you’re going to have to do things the old fashioned way.
If you groveled, this would be the perfect time.
“You look like you might throw up, JD. Here. Drink this.” Fiona pushes my favorite beer in my direction, leaning on the bar so she doesn’t have to shout to be heard over the raucous crowd. “And stop worrying. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Unless he doesn’t show up.”
“He will. Haven’t you seen that Drew Barrymore movie? It’ll be just like that. Only more X-rated.”
I work up a weak glare at her words of comfort. She’s not the first person in the last day or two to mention the fact that my big, brilliant idea is derivative of a romantic comedy about never being kissed.
I thought I’d been inspired after reading his letter. I wanted to give him the same honesty he’d given to me, only in public via my last Dry Spell Diary. No matter what happened tonight it would be my last. There was no point in looking for something else. Someone else, when I’d already had exactly what I wanted.
I’m not sure what he thought about it, but I have it on good authority he actually read it. It’s clear from the crowd inside Finn’s that a lot of people did.
My readers, at least, were on my side and all in. It had only been four days since the article went online, and some of them already made t-shirts.
Go Green, Marine.
The outpouring of support was unexpected, but welcome. The fact that Fiona and Wyatt had gotten a handful of the Finn family to show up as well—including the owner and his husband was…awkward, but also welcome.
I’m still not sure what Joey is doing here. He said something about expanding his company, but I get the feeling he drew the brotherly short straw since Royal had an overseas flight, and he’s just here to keep an eye on me.
“Is it usually this crowded? You’re a fireman, Finn. Isn’t this some kind of health hazard or code violation?” Joey shakes his head of curly dark hair as he observes the crowd.
Wyatt, who’s standing beside me and giving me an insane case of déjà vu says, “It’s fine. Besides, it’s a special occasion.” He smirks at me, then tilts his head toward my brother. “So I hear you’re a babysitter?”
The front door opens and half the bar turns toward the newcomer, who looks awkwardly around and shrugs before greeting his friends with a wave.
He’s not coming. I stand up, sick to my stomach. “I’ll be back.”
Why did this ever sound romantic? I think as I make my way to the bathroom, nodding each time someone waves or calls my name. I hate being the center of attention. I’m a people watcher. Real or fictional, as long as none of those people are looking back at me, I’m good.
Unless it’s Carter. I love the way he looks at me. Looked at me.
I walk into the empty employee restroom in the back—knowing Fiona has perks—and stare at my reflection over the sink. I think I look the same as I did three weeks ago, but everything has changed. I’ve changed.