Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
He crouches beside me, his face earnest as his palm smooths over my bare thigh. “Come on, babe, you’ve been complaining nonstop about that hotel.” He gestures behind me to where it looms in the near distance. “It’s not even open yet. Imagine how much worse it’s gonna be? How much busier? You won’t be able to sit out here anymore without being gawked at by strangers on the beach. It’s not gonna be the same quiet place anymore.”
My stomach knots as he voices my ongoing worries. We’ve been fighting the powers that be since the first notice went up on the vacant lot five years ago but have gotten nowhere, evidenced by the modern behemoth that now waits to house wealthy tourists.
Cody peers at me. “Look, I really didn’t want to say anything, but you haven’t been yourself lately and people are noticing.”
“People?” I frown as his words prick my pride. “What people?” Who’s been talking about me?
“Just … people, you know. About how this whole thing has taken a toll on you, made you bitter.”
I roll my eyes. “Let me guess—your mother.” Who despises me and has never hidden her feelings. I’m the one who stole her precious baby away.
“Things haven’t been the same for months. I’m talking about between us. Tell me you haven’t noticed it.”
“I … guess?” We’ve definitely been fighting more—about work, about Frank, about money. About everything, it seems. “I don’t know why.”
“I chalked it up to Gigi leaving and the pressure you’re under with the business, plus the hotel. But I’m not gonna lie—it’s been hard on me. I don’t want to start regretting giving you that ring—”
I flinch.
“Oh no, don’t worry, babe, I don’t!” he rushes to say. “But I don’t want to see us lose what we have.” He cups my cheek, adding softly, “Do you?”
“Of course not.” I smooth my thumb over the diamond solitaire on my ring finger, remembering the night Cody proposed, a day after Gigi moved out.
“Okay. So, then … stop being so stubborn. Let’s find a new place for the two of us to start our lives together. This isn’t my house. It’s not even yours.”
I inhale deeply. Is he right? Am I being stubborn? My gaze wanders to the little Florida cottage behind us. I was born here, when my mom went into labor during a hurricane and couldn’t get to a hospital in time. Twelve years later, my mother died here. This is where I’m happiest, listening to the waves lap and inhaling the salty air. Gigi always jokes that she raised a mermaid masquerading as a human.
Indignation swells in me. No … Cody’s not right. This is my house. But I can see his point, that it’s not his.
Unless I make it so.
I’ve been thinking about this lately. Gigi will skin me alive for it, I’m sure, seeing as she was adamant everything be signed over in my name, so I owned it outright. But Cody and I are getting married. He’s going to be my husband. We’re going to share our lives and everything that comes along with that.
I open my mouth, ready to suggest adding his name to the deed after we’re married, when he digs a folded paper out of his back pocket and holds it out for me.
I frown. “What’s this?”
“Remember that hotel lawyer who came by here a few weeks ago?”
“The one I threatened?” That slimeball also handed me a piece of paper, a bid to buy my property that I ripped up into no fewer than twenty pieces without reading.
“He came by the Sea Witch a few days later.”
Unease slips down my spine. I guess it wouldn’t take more than a few questions around town to figure out where else to find me. Mermaid Beach is growing, but it’s still small and we’ve been here a long time. “You told him to fuck off, right?”
“He came to talk to me.”
“You? Why?”
“I guess he thought I’d be less emotional, and he wanted to make sure we saw what he was offering.” Cody shrugs in that one-shouldered way that says he’s leaving details out.
“And?”
“And I figured why not see what I could get out of him. So, I named a whole bunch of demands. You know, more money, a closing date in the offseason.”
Anger prickles my skin. Cody keeps saying “we” and “us” as if he has a say in what I do with my house.
“I even asked for lifetime passes to the hotel. And guess what? I got it all for us! Not the passes,” he quickly adds, “but an annual golf membership and a week’s stay in one of their penthouse suites. We could go there for our honeymoon.”
I stare at Cody with incredulity, trying to process what he’s saying, making sure I’m hearing correctly. This isn’t the first time he’s floated the idea of selling. He used to hint casually, wondering how much we could get for this little cottage by the sea. Then his hints grew into late-night post-coital ponderings, our naked bodies sweaty and tangled up in each other, about what we’d do if someone handed us a million dollars. In reality, I could get far more than that. My bramble of land stretches all the way back to where the road curves inland. It’s prime real estate in a thirsty market.