The Suite Spot (Beck Sisters #2)(34)
“Mom said you live with your boss.”
“Kind of.”
“What does that mean?”
“Maisie and I live on the second floor of Mason’s house, but it’s not an apartment, so we share a kitchen,” I say. “He’s at the brewery practically day and night, and we hardly ever see him at the house. It’s almost like having our own place.”
“What’s he like?”
“He’s—” I drop my voice to a whisper so Maisie won’t overhear. “God, Anna, he’s so fucking hot.”
She bursts into laughter. “Rachel! You can’t say something like that when we’re on 595 in a rental car!”
“I’m sorry, but it’s true,” I say. “And I can’t confide in anyone on the island because it would get back to him in about four and a half seconds.”
I pick up my phone and scroll through my camera roll until I find the photo I took of Mason for the website. He grumbled the entire time about wanting to stay behind the scenes, but when he smiled at the last second, I nearly dropped my phone.
I show Anna, who glances quickly. “Okay, I totally see what you mean. We definitely need to revisit this conversation over beers.”
“Agreed.”
“So, what’s the story with Brian?”
“He’s video-chatted with Maisie three times since we’ve been in Ohio, but he won’t talk to me,” I say. “He’s supposed to come for cake tomorrow and then take her home with him for the night. Fingers crossed.”
Anna takes the exit toward our old house and when we finally pull in the driveway, I notice the differences. The yard we never had time to beautify is spruced up with cocoplum shrubs and hot-pink penta flowers. The old painted house numbers have been replaced with modern-looking copper numbers. It looks like exactly what it is—a house in transition to a new owner—and I feel a little pang of sadness. Until Mom bursts out the front door and pulls me into the tightest hug. The kind of hug I’ve been missing. She kisses both of my cheeks and smooths back my hair. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Me too, Mom.”
She gives me another quick hug, then practically dives into the back seat to liberate Maisie. As I open the trunk, Keane comes out of the house. I recognize him from the pictures Anna texted me over the winter, but he’s taller than I imagined. Almost a foot taller than her. And I thought he was scruffy from being at sea, but even here on dry land his hair looks like it doesn’t meet a comb on the regular. He’s hot enough to pull it off, though. He goes to Anna first, draping his arm around her shoulders and dropping a kiss on the top of her head, as if they’ve been apart too long. He extends his other hand to me. “You must be Rachel. I’m Keane.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you.”
He nods. “Likewise.”
It’s hard not to compare Keane to Mason, with his neat black hair and leaner build. Mason is taller than I am by a handful of inches, but not as towering as Keane. Mason is almost a decade older than Keane as well, and there’s something reassuring about the subtle age lines at the corners of Mason’s dark eyes. But more than the way he looks, being around Mason calms me in a way I’ve never experienced. Only now do I realize how chaotic and stressed out Brian made me feel.
“Let me take those bags,” Keane says, scooping up the suitcases and carrying them into the house. Although I’m clearly partial to Mason Brown, Keane gets bonus points for the Irish accent. If I were Anna, I’d be under that all the damn time.
Anna and I follow Keane inside, and behind us comes Mom, with Maisie on her hip, listening intently to a revised version of the story she told Anna at the airport.
My heart is full.
* * *
We spend the next couple of hours sifting through memories as we start packing Mom’s possessions into moving boxes. Mom and I frequently pause on items, considering the sentimental implications of getting rid of them, until Anna steps in like the tough-love guy on HGTV makeover shows.
“The memories are here,” she says, touching her temple as she takes a plastic baby bowl away from Mom and puts it in the donation box. “This takes up space in your life that you need for other things.”
Anna knows better than any of us how that works. The only physical objects she has left from her relationship with Ben are a couple of Polaroid pictures, his record collection, and his boat, but she says that’s all she needs.
It’s late afternoon when we haul the bags of trash to the curb and pack the rental car with boxes of Goodwill donations that Anna and Keane will drop off on the way to their hotel. After showers and a change of clothes, we all meet up at the pirate-themed restaurant where Anna used to work. It’s never been my favorite place—even though the food is decent, the waitress uniforms are gross—but Anna is introducing Keane to her old haunts.
While the hostess—dressed in a sexy pirate costume with petticoat ruffles and bodice lacing—leads us to our table, Keane leans toward Anna and quietly says, “Do you still have your uniform? Because I’d be happy to role-play the patriarchy and let you smash me.”
She chokes on a laugh, then elbows him in the side, hissing, “Stop!”
No context was needed for that joke to land and as I try not to snicker, I feel an old familiar surge of envy. I want what they have. I want someone who looks at me the way Keane looks at Anna. Someone who makes me laugh out loud. Someone who makes me blush in public.