Page 7 of Sweet Escape at Bayside
She couldn’t look into her sister’s eyes and lie, no matter how much she wanted to put Desiree’s mind at ease, so she didn’t respond.
“Maybe he’ll make Lizza morenormal, you know?” Desiree shrugged and said, “There’s always hope. Besides, if he keeps her here for a month—”
“I’ll lose my mind.” Violet strode toward her front door. She needed to get out of her dress and out ofthere.
“Why? I’m kind of happy for her.”
Violet walked into her cottage, and Desiree barreled in after her.
“Don’t you like Andre?” Desiree asked. “He’s a pediatrician and he knows Dean’s dadandhis brother.” Dean’s father was a pediatric neurosurgeon in Boston, and his brother Doug, also a physician, worked overseas. “I asked him how he met Lizza. He said he met her in Ghana a couple years ago. I know sometimes you and Lizza traveled in the same circles, but you were in Bali before coming here, right? You said you broke up with your boyfriend and that’s why you didn’t return my calls, but that you were going totake your life back to Bali.”
Forget changing her clothes. Violet couldn’t do this right now. When they’d first come to the Cape, it had been too painful to even think about being in Ghana with Andre, andBalihad been the first place that had come to mind on that stressful day.
She shoved her feet into her biker boots, eyes downcast as she said, “Yeah.”
It was easier to lie without seeing Desiree’s face, because she remembered every minute of her last trip to Ghana, from the moment she’d set eyes on the man who would fluster her and cause her to blush, and made her feel so much that she thought she’d die, to the night she took off wondering how she’d ever go on and the months of tears that followed.
“Oh my gosh…” Desiree covered her mouth.
Violet grabbed her keys and headed out the front door toward her motorcycle.
“Wait!” Desiree kept pace with her. “Wasn’t your boyfriend also named Andre?”
Violet looked away, gripping the keys so tightly they cut into her hand. She’d slipped and mentioned Andre’s name only once, when she’d first come to the Cape. She couldn’t believe Desiree remembered it.
“Holy cow, Violet. Is that why you’re so mad? Is heyourAndre?” Desiree asked, wide-eyed. She must have seen the answer in Violet’s expression, because her eyes narrowed and she clenched her hands into fists. “I’m going tokillher!” She stalked toward the party.
Violet snagged her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “If there’s going to be any killing,I’mthe one who’s going to do it.”
“But—”
“No, Desiree. Let this go. Lizza didn’t know about me and Andre.” It even hurt to say his name.
“But the nerve of him, getting everyone to like him when he’s a…a…scoundrel!”
Violet smiled at her oh-so-proper sister and said, “He’s not a jerk, Des. I am.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s okay. Neither do I.” She didn’t know how Lizza and Andre had ended up together, but Andre was right, and the truth cut like a knife. She’d left him and had never looked back. She had no right to be jealous or anything else for that matter. But that didn’t stop the pain from seeping in through her pores like poison.
Desiree tilted her head. “You’reokaywith him and Lizza?”
“Not even a little,” Violet said honestly. “I need time to clear my head.”
“Of course. Go.” She waved at Violet’s bike. “But don’t you want to put on pants?”
“No. I want to get out of here. You know I love you, Des, but so help me, if you tell one person about this—even Rick—I will go crazy on you.” Feeling guilty for leaving, she gave Desiree a quick hug and said, “Don’t give this another thought. Go get your man and devour him.”
“Violet!” Desiree whispered, crimson staining her cheeks.
Violet chuckled as she walked back to her bike, hiked up her dress, and climbed on. She took comfort in the familiar hug of her helmet, the powerful roar of the engine, and the sting of the air against her flesh as she sped out of the driveway.
VIOLET HAD BEEN to Justin Wicked’s house so many times since she’d moved to the Cape, her motorcycle could probably guide itself there. The knots in her chest eased as she cruised down the narrow road and his pond-front home came into view. She’d met Justin the summer she’d turned twelve, during one of her visits to the inn to see Desiree and their grandmother. She’d taken off down the beach to escape the discomfort of feeling like a stranger within her own family, and she’d ended up sitting on Wellfleet Pier. Justin had been a long-haired, lanky thirteen-year-old with an attitude as big as Violet’s. He’d watched her from a few feet away, kicking at the pier with the toe of his black high-tops, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. She’d finally gotten sick of being watched and said, “Sit your butt down.” They’d been friends ever since.
Justin’s motorcycle, along with one she didn’t recognize, were parked out front of his house. She passed the house and turned down the driveway that led to his studio. In addition to being a stone sculptor, Justin owned Cape Stone, a stone distribution and stonemasonry company, with his brother Blaine. His other two brothers, Zeke and Zander, worked with their father in their family business, Cape Renovators, and had renovated the inn when Desiree and Violet had first moved there.
She parked out front and walked into the large secluded stone and glass building that had been her safe haven since moving back to the Cape and reconnecting with Justin. The familiar, calming scents of clay and stone greeted her. She turned on the lights, set her helmet on the table, and exhaled a breath she felt like she’d been holding for hours. She sank onto a metal chair, still trying to process seeing Andre again and his being with her mother. Her chest constricted, and she pressed her palm to it, futilely trying to ease the pain. The truth was, she hadn’t been holding her breath for hours but foryears. She closed her eyes, but all she saw washimand the anger and hurt in his eyes. His accusatory tone cut through her thoughts.You washed your hands of me years ago.
