“Dude, you kind of overcooked that steak,” I said, dropping my plate beside the sink where Ambrose was doing the dishes.
For a moment I saw a muscle pulse in his jaw, and I felt my own tense, my hands in my pockets automatically tightening into fists.
Just try me, motherfucker. . .
But I knew damn well Ambrose had promised Indi that he’d try to get along with me.
“I’m sorry it was not to your liking,” he said stiffly. “Perhaps next time you can bring the cow in and show me where you want to slice.”
“You’re a fucking punk,” I said.
I should stop. There was no damn point in fucking fighting with Aoife’s stepdad. We were going to be in each other’s lives now and that was it.
But I still hated the sight of his smug motherfucking face.
Bitter jealousy roiled in my gut.
It had taken me 12 painful, long months to get over Indi. And even though I had finally been considering trying to fucksomeone else again, I still felt bitter. Ambrose had everything I wanted. Happy wife, happy family,
Forgiveness
He had forgiveness and I didn’t.
But what you did was worse, my conscience whispered to me.
Abruptly, I pushed off the counter and walked out into the living room, kissed Aoife again and left.
Indi was the most supportive co-parent you could ever imagine, and I saw Aoife as much as I wanted every time I was in town.
My phone rang as I headed to my car and to my surprise, it was Bernard, the business manager for the Toadstrand Landing Beach Hotel, which I owned.
“There is a matter of business that requires your attention down here,” he said.
In my old home town? With this hotel I hadn’t thought about in years?
“Just contact my business manager,” I said.
There was silence.
“Mr. O'Donoghue, I think it’s something you’ll want to take care of yourself,” he said.
“All right,” I said.
It wasn’t like I had anything else to do at the moment. I didn’t particularly want to go back home to my empty mansion on Christmas Eve.
Not that I wanted to go back to my hometown either, the small beach town where I’d lived after coming over from Ireland as a teenage boy.
My hometown was about an hour away from Indi’s house, and I drove down there, feeling restless and bitter still.
I had given up drinking 10 years ago, but fuck, I craved a drink right about now.
I drove past the small beach homes and empty downtown. Toadstrand Landing always looked so depressing in the off-season.
Then I pulled into the Toadstrand Landing Beach Hotel. It was a dilapidated building with weathered gray boards and and tile falling off the roof.
I owned it and the attached cafe, and had for 10 years, but its ownership had never done what I had wanted it to do.
So why didn’t I sell it?
