Reckless Hearts (Oak Harbor #2)(63)

“I know something even better.”



Five minutes later, we’re sat at Franny’s bakery with a table full of cake.

“Too young!” I echo Marcie’s words, angrily waving my fork. “I’ve been keeping that place afloat for years!”

“Mmmhmm,” Lottie murmurs supportively.

“Does she even care about the clients?” I continue, fuming. “She’s passing them all off on Ron. Ron! His agents don’t know the area, not like me. They’re all flashy suits and no soul, they won’t care about anyone at all. Do you think they’d go help a client break into his new house at three in the morning because he’s left the keys inside? Or mop the basement on their hands and knees when a pipe busts and the buyers are due to arrive any minute?”

“Here, try the chocolate.” Lottie slides a plate closer, and I take a big mouthful.

“I’ve been working for this. I deserve this.”

“So do it yourself.”

I pause my rant. “What do you mean?”

Lottie shrugs. “Set up on your own. You said yourself nobody knows this town like you do. The agency clients are only there because you take such good care of them,” she adds. “Who do you think they’d choose between you and this Ron guy? You have the money saved, you’ve got your real estate license, so why not go into business for yourself and run the competition out of town?”

I pause, a forkful of cake halfway to my mouth. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner, it makes perfect sense. “I guess I figured I needed the agency for the legal stuff, the clients . . .”

“Hire a lawyer, woo the clients,” Lottie replies. “Simple.”

And it is. I could have everything I wanted, without needing Marcie or anyone else’s permission. But thinking about going out on my own, I can’t help feeling sad all over again. Will would want me to do it. He was my cheerleader, always on my side. I’d never known a guy like that before: someone who really wanted me to succeed, and didn’t get jealous or want to cut me down to size.

“You’re thinking about Will again,” Lottie says, sympathetic. “You get this look, like someone just stomped on your heart. Eat some more cake.”

“Cake won’t help, not when he’s off with her.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Lottie finally looks impatient. “You’re Delilah Morgan. You never just sit around feeling sorry for yourself. You hustle and get it done.”

I shake my head. “Save the pep talk,” I tell her. “I’m still trying to figure all this out.”

“Don’t wait too long,” she warns me. “He may say he’ll wait, but life gets in the way sometimes. By the time you make a decision, the chance might be gone.”

“Gee, thanks.” I give a hollow laugh. “Real supportive.”

Lottie grins. “You said to cut the pep talk! It’s OK, babe,” she says, patting my shoulder. “Life may suck right now, but at least you’ve got carbs.”



We sit and devour our body weights in cake until Kit gets out of playgroup, and I walk home. The boat trailer is still parked outside my place. I need to get it hitched and driven down to the creek again, but now, I find myself climbing up and hauling myself inside.

I sit on one of the benches and look around. The old, splintered boards are nowhere to be seen, but there are new things too: a set of waterproof pillows, tucked in a case, and a sturdy built-in box that will be perfect for my fishing gear. I feel a flood of emotion, seeing what he’s done for me. Will’s work is flawless, the wood smooth and polished. He must have worked hours on this, keeping it a secret from me the whole time, putting such care and attention into every piece.

My heart twists. God, I miss him so much. How is it that someone can become a part of your life so fast, it’s like they’ve always been there? Being with him, it felt so easy, like we’d always been there, and always would be.

“Permission to come aboard?”

I snap out of my thoughts, surprised to find someone on the sidewalk. “Daddy!” I blink, confused to see him standing there in his work shirt and tie. “What are you doing here?”

“Your mom suggested I stop by.” He climbs up onto the trailer and steps in the boat. “Look at this thing,” he says, sounding wistful. “I can’t believe he’s still around.”

“I thought he was a goner, but Will fixed him,” I explain.

Dad takes a seat on the bench opposite me and loosens his tie. He must have driven down straight from the office, but I’m still confused. I can’t remember the last time we even met without Mom around. It was back before everything happened; since then, I’ve kept our visits to family dinners and holidays.

“I still remember the time you caught your first ten-pounder,” he says, a nostalgic smile on his tanned, weathered face. “You can’t have been more than nine years old.”

“Eight,” I say, softening at the memory.

“We spent some good times out on the creek in this old thing.” Dad pats the wood. “We should do it again sometime, if you’d like,” he adds, a hopeful note in his voice.

I nod slowly. “Maybe.”

There’s silence. Dad lets out a sigh. “Your mom told me you and Will were having some problems—”