The Suite Spot (Beck Sisters #2)(37)
“I meant to me, Rachel,” Mom says. “You didn’t have to spend the night alone.”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Well, I’m worried now, so you didn’t spare me anything.”
“I’m sorry.”
She pulls me into a hug, rubbing my back like she did when I was a little girl. I break down, sobbing against her shoulder.
“I know you’ve always hated it when I say you can do better than Brian,” she says. “But regardless of how I feel about him, I don’t believe stealing Maisie would ever cross his mind. Long-range planning and execution are not in his skill set.”
“But you heard him: he’s going to college and got a decent job.”
“You told him he needed to get his shit together,” Mom points out. “Seems to me that he listened.”
“That doesn’t explain why he was acting so sketchy last night.”
“Brian was comfortable with your relationship because you never challenged his behavior. When you moved to Ohio, you broke the cycle. I suspect he’s hurt and angry, and has no idea how to manage that,” she says. “Not making eye contact and refusing to speak to you makes perfect sense for someone who has the emotional depth of a teaspoon.”
She takes my chin firmly in her hand. “And if you had come to me with this last night, you would not have spent the night worrying about something that Brian Schroeder is not smart enough to pull off.”
When I laugh, it’s wet and snotty from crying. “You’re right. I let my fears get away from me.”
“You’re a mother,” she says, kissing my forehead. “It happens.”
Mom goes into the kitchen to start breakfast and I nap on the couch until the security system beeps and I see my daughter on the video screen.
Maisie comes bursting into the condo, hopped up on pancake syrup and orange juice, Brian on her heels. His sunny smile fades and he averts his eyes. Maybe Mom was right.
“Hi, Brian,” I say, but his gaze won’t stick. “Do you have a minute? We need to talk.”
“I, uh—I really don’t have time right now,” he says. He hugs and kisses Maisie. Tells her to be a good girl for Mama, like he always does. Then bolts like a scared rabbit, without a backward glance.
* * *
Mom insists on coming inside the airport with Maisie and me, instead of simply dropping us at departures. Anna and Keane have already left for Antigua. From there they’ll take a ferry to Montserrat, where their boat is moored. That kind of vagabond lifestyle is too unpredictable for me, but it seems to work for them.
Mom waits with us in the check-in line and hugs us one last time before we go through the security checkpoint. She watches until we’re through to the other side, then waves until she can’t see us anymore.
Maisie falls asleep on the plane, her head on my thigh, and three hours later we’re in Ohio. As we taxi down the runway, I turn on my phone to find a text from Mason.
I’m in the cell lot. Let me know when you’re out front.
A bubble of happiness rises inside me, and I smile at my phone, knowing full well I look ridiculous. I can’t wait to get back to Kelleys Island. I can’t wait to see Mason.
Our seats are in the bulkhead row behind business class, so Maisie and I are among the first people off the plane. I want to race through the airport, but I can only move as fast as Maisie can walk, so by the time we get to the arrival doors, my anticipation level is through the roof. I need to pump the brakes on this, but when his green pickup pulls up to the curb, I can hear the blood rushing in my ears, and it sounds like hope, hope, hope.
Ohio must have been experiencing a heat wave because when Mason comes around the back of the truck, he’s dressed in a pair of olive-green shorts and an untucked plaid shirt that is not flannel, sleeves rolled to the elbows. He’s even wearing brown leather flip-flops. The whole package makes me a little dizzy. Like when he dropped me off, his sunglasses block his eyes, but he offers me a cockeyed grin. “Glad you’re back.”
“Oh really?” I try to play it cool. I hope I’m playing it cool.
“The construction manager keeps asking questions that I can’t answer,” Mason says, hoisting the suitcases into the truck bed, and my heart does a little dip. “And being alone in the house was weird.”
And after the dip comes the swoop. “It was?”
“A little.” He shrugs, which is definitely not a declaration of his undying love, but it’s Mason Brown sweet. “Your mom settled in?”
“Pretty much,” I say. “She has to figure out where everything goes, but that’s the fun part.”
“I most definitely do not agree.”
“I wish I could say I’m shocked, but no … that’s very on-brand for you.”
He gives a short laugh and … God, I didn’t realize how much I missed that sound. How much I love that sound.
“Did anything exciting happen while I was gone?” I ask.
“The mattresses and bedding for the cabins arrived a couple days ago,” Mason says. “The taproom looks like a warehouse, so we might have to rent a storage pod or something if we’re going to open the brewery on time.”
“Mason,” Maisie pipes up. “My auntie Anna gave me a drum for my birthday.”