Page 37 of Summer with the Single Dad

“Did something happen at the winery?” he asked, setting the tote from his arms down on the floor against the wall. “Did Gabrielle say something? Did Raina?”

“I don’t know who either of those people are. And no. I only met Naomi, and she was lovely. Nothing happened. I just—” She glanced out the window at the glittering ocean, caught perfectly in the afternoon rays of sunshine. “I left quite suddenly and I feel bad about that now. Naomi was so kind to me.”

“Why’d you leave so abruptly?”

She shook her head and averted her gaze, studying the room and its muted colors. Camel-beige on the walls, a brown and blue duvet cover and pillow shams, and two funky reclaimed wood nightstands to match the king-sized bed frame. The mattress was quite high, higher than average she would say, and a stunning blown-up gray-scale photograph of a blue heron hunting in glass-calm water on a foggy day hung on the wall behind the bed.

He stepped closer to her, then his finger was beneath her chin and he was gently, but forcefully, making her turn to look at him again.

He was too close now.

His heat, his scent. Just his presence left her light-headed.

“Justine, why’d you leave? What happened?”

She shook free of his touch and took a step back, or at least tried to, but her calves hit the end of the bed. She was trapped.

He took her attempt to move away from him for what it was and took a step back himself, his expression full of confusion and hurt.

“I don’t deserve joy,” she said, meeting his blue gaze for just a split second.

“What? Why would you say or think that?”

“Because I killed someone. Now he, nor his family, will ever experience joy again. So why should I? I feel guilty any time I enjoy myself or am happy, because the man I killed is dead. I made a mistake, and he paid the price.”

“And so you’re punishing yourself by not allowing yourself to experience joy ever again?”

It sounded so stupid when said out loud. And when Bennett said it, she wanted to curl up in a ball or escape to an ashram in Tibet.

So to save the little bit of face she had left, she said nothing. She just let his words hang in the air. Silence was her answer. Silence was her confirmation.

His eyes turned sad. “Oh, Justine, that’s … that’s not fair. Not to you, or the … patient? It was a patient, right? You didn’t, like, off a guy on the street for his watch or something? I haven’t brought a murderous mugger into my house with my children, have I?”

It was impossible not to laugh at that. “No. It was a patient.”

“You can’t beat yourself up. It happens. It’s terrible, but it happens.”

Her throat grew tight and the back of her eyes burned. She shook her head. “Not to me.”

“So, you realized you enjoyed yourself at the wine tasting, felt guilty, and left?”

Filled to the absolute brim with embarrassment, she nodded.

“Okay. Well, I hope that the reason you’re here on the island is to not only find that clarity but also to forgive yourself. Because accidents happen. Even to genius surgeons. Crappy things happen, good people die, and it fucking sucks. Also, I’m guessing you’ve saved a lot more people on your OR table than have died.”

A hot tear slid down the crease of her nose.

She didn’t nod, but rather, just glanced away, unable to look him in the eye because she knew she’d see pity. He didn’t get it. He wanted to, and he was trying to, but he just didn’t get it.

“If you ever want to talk …”

She swallowed, still staring at the floor. Another tear slid down her nose and onto the hardwood. “Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to unpack. Seems like you need some time to yourself. I’ll be down at the office if you need anything. My home is your home. So put your food in the fridge, there should be space. And make yourself at home. The kids will be home just after three. So I’ll make sure I come back for that so they don’t bombard you with questions.”

“Thank you,” she choked out.

She sucked in a sharp breath when he stepped close again and she lifted her head, more on instinct than anything else. “You deserve joy, Justine. Don’t destroy your life because of one mistake. Grief and guilt are powerful, and they are important, but so is happiness. So is forgiveness. Forgive yourself.”

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