Page 8 of Restoration

At the end of the walk, I see a big, broad-shouldered figure. Caleb, who’s been supervising Edmund’s extra security ever since he started dating Kontessa.

I like Caleb. He’s a quiet, kind, competent man. He’s also quite handsome with his blue eyes and square jaw. Personally, I prefer Edmund’s more finely chiseled features and leaner body, but it’s entirely possible I might have had a few flickers of interest toward Caleb if he wasn’t so clearly in love with his fiancée.

Smiling as I approach, I say, “I bet you’re ready for us to finally get on the boat tomorrow so you can go home.”

Caleb lives in Maine, but he’s been flying out here regularly for the past six months. My question is somewhat difficult to answer diplomatically, and he doesn’t even try. “Is he going to be ready?”

“I think so. I got him packed earlier, and he’s not planning to go out tonight, so I don’t think a hangover should get in the way. He seems really set on being alone for a couple of months.”

“Areyouready?” Caleb’s expression is observant. Almost unnervingly so.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to be.”

“I wish you could have talked him out of ditching the crew and switching to a smaller boat.”

“Yeah, me too. I did try. But he won’t be budged. He’s so laid-back and flexible most of the time, but every once in a while, he’ll dig his heels in. When he does, he’s absolutely unmoving.”

“Sounds like a Worthing.” Caleb’s fiancée is a Worthing—one of Edmund’s cousins—so he would know this family characteristic as well as anyone. “But try to keep him in one piece if you can.”

“He’s excellent at sailing. He’s been doing it all his life.”

“I know he has. It’s not his skill I’m questioning. It’s his judgment.”

“He’s got me for judgment.”

Caleb nods. “Yeah. I know. Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

I shrug, wondering vaguely what Edmund will do when I’m gone. Someone else will have to take care of him, or he’ll have to figure out how to do it himself. “I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will. I’m not sure what he’d have done for these last six years if you hadn’t been there to keep him put together.”

I’m not sure either. When I first started working for him, he was young. He was out partying nearly every night and sleeping until midafternoon. He didn’t travel. He didn’t have any real hobbies. He had nothing to occupy his time but socializing and drinking himself into oblivion.

He’s not the same now. He spends most of his time having fun, but it’s not all empty partying. He’s healthier. He’s in better shape. He rarely gets drunk. And he doesn’t waste all his money.

I still think he’d probably be happier if he had a larger purpose for his days—if not a career then a cause that he could pour himself into—but at least he’s not still acting like a boy.

“He’s not going to have me forever,” I murmur with a crack in my voice. I’m not sure why I even say that. Just that the resignation letter I left for Edmund is burning a hole in my mind.

Caleb has been scanning the horizon, but he cuts his eyes back over to me with a small jerk. “You thinking of leaving?”

I give a very slow nod.

He lets out a breath. “Well, shit.”

I have no idea how to respond to that, but I don’t actually need to. Because I hear a muffled roar from inside the house.

Caleb meets my eyes, and we share a silent acknowledgment.

The roar sounds again after another minute. This one still muffled by distance but now close enough to identify the word. “Autumn!”

I let out a long, slow breath. It’s happening now. No stopping it. And I’m sure it’s right.

If only I didn’t feel so sick to my stomach.

“Autumn, what the hell!” The bellow is coming from the front of the house.

I turn and see Edmund pushing open both doors at the same time. When he sees me, he strides down the stairs. “What the fucking hell, Autumn!”

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