Page 83 of Broken Hearts

“So, fill me in. You went to see your dad’s lawyer?”

“I did, and he needs to see you too. There’s some paperwork you have to sign,” I start, and Nate narrows his eyes, confusion in his expression as he tilts his head to the side.

“Why do I need to sign shit?”

“Because you are part-owner of The Pipe Dream.” My smile spreads so wide that my cheeks hurt, and the expression on Nate’s face upon hearing this news negates the argument we had earlier.

Saying he’s shocked would be an understatement. He’s speechless.

“We’re co-owners. Guess my dad knew what he was doing, almost like he knew we were meant for each other,” I say, smiling as I kiss the tip of Nate’s nose.

“So wait…” He trails off, still confused by my comment.

“I’m staying, Nate, but I don’t know a damn thing about running The Pipe Dream, so I thought I could be like a silent partner or whatever.”

“You’re really staying?”

“That’s all you got out of this? You own The Pipe Dream. You can continue what my dad started all those years ago.” I shake my head, letting out a chuckle. “And yes, I’m staying. I obviously have to go back to New York to get my things, but I want to make Hawaii my home. I want to be an islander.”

Now it’s Nate laughing, tilting me back so he can kiss me. With his mouth close to mine, his eyes shining with happiness, he whispers, “You’ll never be an islander, babe. You were born on the mainland.”

“Oh my god, what? So you mean to tell me I can never be one?” I let out a hard sigh. “Fuck this, I’m going back to New York.”

I pretend to get up, but Nate wraps his arms tightly around me, holding me to him. “The hell you are!” he shouts, laughing as he does.

“And there’s something else,” I now say, turning to look at him, knowing we’re going to need each other for this.

“What’s that?”

“My dad wrote us each a letter and the lawyer gave them to me today. He gave me one for Alana too, but I figure you should be the one to give it to her.”

I visibly see Nate’s face fall, and his throat bobs as he swallows hard. I feel it too. Reading these letters is going to be more difficult than these last few weeks. The emotions I feel just thinking about it shift from needing to read the letter, to never wanting to open it.

It could break me.

It could break both of us.

Nate carries around so much guilt and hurt from being abandoned and then having my dad show up when he needed him, only to have my dad pass away so suddenly.

And then there’s me. What could he possibly say to me? He’s a better person than I am if he’s not angry with me for the way I treated him. I know I would be. And now I can never make it up to him, but I will spend the rest of my life carrying on his dream, building it up and making it better than he ever could have imagined. I want The Pipe Dream to be a name that isn’t just famous here on Maui, but all over the islands. I want his name to be known for all the wonderful and great things he’s done.

“We can read them together if you want,” I tell Nate, wondering if he needs the support to get through it like I do.

“I’d love that.”

“Hang on. I’ll go grab them.”

I climb off his lap, heading out to the car where I left them in the glove box. Opening the car, I’m hit with the smell of the blueberry surf wax and tobacco, a smell that I will forever associate with my father, and it makes me smile.

I grab the three letters, looking at his handwriting on the front, and smiling. As hard as this will be, I love that both Nate and I will have this closure. I hope it also brings Alana the guidance she needs right now too.

My father had no idea he would die unexpectedly, but these letters show he was always thinking about us, even when I wasn’t here, even when Nate was difficult, even whenIwas difficult, and I love that.

I take in a deep cleansing breath as I open the door to Nate’s house, the letters warm in my hand, ready to be read, ready to feel that connection to something we’ve both lost.

Walking over to where he’s sitting, I hold his letter out to him, and he takes it from me, looking at his name on the front, the little surfboard drawn on it.

It’s perfect, and when Nate takes it in, he looks up and smiles at me. I turn my envelope so he can see it, and his smile widens.

---