Page 70 of Must Have Been Love

“You know what happened the last time they took her to England,” I say, my voice thick. Because I still haven’t gotten over it. Strictly speaking, they weren’t the ones who took her to England. That was her mother, right before she was involved in an accident that took her life and completely turned Ayda’s upside down. But after the funeral, instead of releasing Ayda back into my care like any normal fucking grandparents would, they refused to give up custody and made me wait for months, fighting through the courts for the right to bring up my own daughter.

“I already let them see her four times a year. That’s more than they deserve. Tell them no, and tell them if they make any more idiotic requests, they’ll be lucky if they see her again before her eighteenth birthday.”

He shakes his head. “I think I’ll leave that last part out.”

“Whatever. It’s not happening. Now I have to go. I’d like to see my daughter before she goes to bed tonight.”

He ends the video call and I stand up wearily, more ready to go to bed than to a damn party where I have to share the woman who I desperately want to have more of.

But first I’ll go home and read my daughter a book, kiss her goodnight, and thank God that she’s here on the island and safe.

Once upon a time, that’s all I wanted in life. Now I want the fucking fairytale.

The only problem is, I’m no Prince Charming.

* * *

SKYLER

The entire population of Liberty seems to be squeezed into The Salty Dog for the opening party. There are five of us behind the bar – me, Jesse, Autumn, plus the two prior employees she introduced me to who used to work for my dad. And still we’re being run ragged trying to serve everybody who’s lined up at the bar.

After tonight we’ll provide table service, but for the re-opening Autumn suggested we have everybody line up for their drinks, because we don’t have enough staff – or tables – to deal with individual groups.

In an hour we’ll lose Jesse to the stage, but I’m hoping by then everybody will have a drink in their hands and be chilled. Still, as Autumn tells me when she reaches past me to grab some bottles of soda, this is a good omen.

“What can I get you?” I ask Eileen, who’s across the bar in front of me. She was the first here – she was literally standing on the porch waiting for us to open. A little while ago I saw Mylene stand at the door then walk away as soon as she spotted her twin inside.

“A club soda, please.” Eileen looks around, her brows knitted. “I’m not one for drinking alcohol.”

“Club soda coming up,” I say, grabbing the wand and starting to fill the glass.

“Actually,” she says, leaning in like she’s about to tell me a secret. “Put a little vodka in there too.”

Biting down a smile, I put a shot of Grey Goose in and pass her the drink. As she takes it, I glance over her shoulder, the way I’ve been looking over every customer’s shoulder when I serve them, waiting to see his black, broody stare and stupidly perfect suit storming through the bar.

Because Hudson Fitzgerald definitely storms everywhere he goes. I’m getting used to it. In fact, I find it a turn on.

Making him laugh is almost as enjoyable as making him come.

A group of men walk in, jostling and laughing, and I lift my hand up to wave hi to the contractors I invited after they finished, because I believe they should get to enjoy themselves after all their hard work. And they did work hard – they finished the final few snags at four this afternoon.

It’s past eight by the time I see Hudson standing at the door, nodding at one of the locals. They’re talking to him and he’s listening patiently, even though he has his resting bastard-face on.

And yeah, a shiver runs down my spine because I know what that face can do. I know what that body can do.

I let out a long breath.

“There he is!” Autumn’s face lights up when she sees her brother. “Hudson! Want a beer?” she shouts out.

He looks over at us, his jaw tight as his gaze roams over to me. My chest tightens as our gazes lock.

I know he has a babysitter for Ayda tonight. It would be so, so easy to ask him to stay over with me tonight. In my bed. To wake up with his arms around me.

“I’m gonna head over to the stage,” Jesse whispers in my ear. His warm voice makes me jump. I turn to look at him and we both smile.

“What’s your opening number?” I ask him.

“It’s a surprise.” He grins at me. We really are fast friends now. It’s strange how close I feel to him in a non-amorous way. So it doesn’t annoy me one bit that every woman who’s not staring at Hudson is staring at my friend as he saunters over to the stage and picks up his guitar, sitting down on the stool and forming the chords he uses to tune the strings.

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