Page 54 of Resorting to Romance

“Mila’s Place, may I help you?”

“Mila’s Place? That’s a cute name, Mila.”

When Brad and I were originally dreaming about the inn, we had a name. It flashes in my mind like words on a marquis:Swanson Place.

Brad’s last name.

Our last name.

Notmy last name anymore.

Or ever again.

And not Noah’s last name ever. I gave Noah my name—because he’s mine.

“Brad?” I act surprised. It’s the best reaction I’ve got when he’s ambushing me for the second time in a week.

“Yeah. It’s me. Listen, I know I told you I’d wait about Noah. And I will. I just wanted you to know something. I think you have a right to know.”

I sit down in the chair behind the reception desk. Something tells me I ought to be seated for whatever Brad’s about to say.

“Go ahead,” I tell him.

“Well, you know how I’m planning to expand the business?”

“Yeah?”

“I got a call from my realtor on Marbella. You know that old Boy Scout camp at Outriggers Cove?”

My stomach starts to roil and I wonder if there’s enough air in the room because it’s a little hard to catch my next breath.

I manage to say, “Yeah.”

“Well, that place is up for sale. Not the whole camp, but the bait shop and the dock area with that other little outbuilding. You know the one. We snuck down there …”

I cut him off, not needing to place one foot on memory lane, let alone take a stroll down it.

“Yeah. I know the buildings. So, you’re buying them?”

“I am. I had to. It’s too good. I thoughtI’d have to find beachfront property and develop it. This way, I only have to do renos. And, what’s even better?” He doesn’t even pause to let me guess, which is honestly mostly a relief. “I am buying the house on the back part of the property. You know, when you walk past the cabins where the Scouts used to stay? That house up the hill, the one with the ocean views? That’s the one.”

“You’re … moving here?”

Now I know the oxygen has left the room. I’m actually feeling dizzy.

“Not full time. I’ll still keep my home in Santa Barbara. It will be more convenient while I’m setting up the business if I have a home on Marbella. And, anytime I need to come oversee the project, or later on, the business, I can stay in my island house. I’m going to eventually turn that into an AirBnB listing. Or Vrbo. Whatever. I’ll have my property management company oversee it. Then I can just rent it out the rest of the time I’m not staying there. It’s basically an investment.”

“An investment,” I echo like a dying parrot.

Brad’s voice lowers. “I’m not trying to crowd you, Mila. I’ll stay out of your way. But …” he has the decency to pause. “If you do decide I can be in Noah’s life, it will also make it more convenient for me to see him. I can stay over at my Marbella place on days you agree to let me see our son … or whatever.”

Our son. The words feel like a bitter pill.

“Stay over,” I repeat.

“At my house, of course. Not yours. Not the inn, I mean.” It almost seems like he has more to say.

I feel his unspoken hope hanging in the air.

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