Before I can stop myself, I lunge forward and punch him in the face. I was right about one thing. He wouldn’t personally sabotage the place, but I never stopped to think the bastard would hire someone to do it for him.
“You could have killed her,” I say as he falls to the ground, blood spurting from his nose. Tyler cheers me on in the distance.
“What the hell?” Bryce says.
“The place isn’t for sale,” I inform him and yank the For Sale sign out of the ground. At least not until Alyson hears what I have to say. The place belongs to her. I’m not sure if she’ll ever want to come back, but never will she see her uncle’s place, his pride and joy, go to someone who wouldn’t care for it the way she’d want.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” Bryce says.
“Yeah, I’ll be holding my breath.” With the cardboard sign in my hand, I storm toward my family and snap it over my knee. They’re all watching me carefully. “If anyone asks, it’s no longer for sale,” I say, and they nod.
“Jay…” Mom begins.
“Mr. Honey Buns,” Capone blurts out. “Moves like Jagger.”
I glance at Mom to find her trying to stifle a chuckle. “He’s…” Ugh, how the hell do I explain that one?
“Dude,” Tyler says. “What you do behind closed doors with your bird is your business, but that’s just nasty.”
As everyone laughs, I cut through the path with single-minded determination. I have no idea if I can make this right, if I can ever get her to trust me again, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to do my best.
Chapter Twenty One
Alyson
I lift my red Solo Cup and aim it toward Lucy. “Here’s to shopping, Broadway, concerts, espressos, and parties,” I say, and she taps her cup to mine. We both take a big drink, and I force a smile.
Honestly, after living in Farmington, none of those extravagant things are important to me, at least not like they used to be. Not when there are so many other things that have more meaning to me—like my farm, the animals, the people of Farmington. I snort. Even if I were still that same person I was before my stint in Nova Scotia and wanted to hit the expensive stores and Broadway shows, I couldn’t afford the high price tags. Dad offered to reinstate my trust fund, but I gave it up. I need to live life on my own terms and answer only to myself. I also walked away from my condo, wanting to make my own money and my own way in life. I don’t want the cushion or to fall back into my old way of life. This makes me accountable. He said he’d save it all for my children, and I totally agreed with that—if I ever have them, which isn’t looking good. Couch surfing at my friends’ places definitely won’t make the highlight reel, but I’ve been pounding the streets for work every day, trying to find some kind of meaning in my life.
You had meaning in your life.
Someone bumps me from behind, and the beer in my cup spills over my shirt—the same one I was wearing when I fell into the Atlantic. I laugh almost hysterically, and my mania results in a few strange looks from my friends.
“Ah, are you okay?” Lucy asks as she flips her blonde hair over her shoulder and makes a pouty face for her selfie.
I dab at my shirt with a cocktail napkin and duck out of the way. My eyes are so puffy from crying, I do not want the image captured and splashed all over Instagram.
“I have this real problem with my clothes,” I murmur. My head lifts abruptly, and I steal a fast glance around Lucy’s condo, half expecting Jay to be here. I never used to ruin my clothes, or lose them, or have them ripped from my body, before my trip to Farmington—before meeting Jay. I’m not exactly sure why it’s happening now if he’s not here.
Lucy leans in. “Hey, did you hear Bradley and Janice are having problems?” She gestures with a tip of her cup, and my gaze cuts through the room to see the two in a heated argument. “Daddy’s trust fund might be gone, but that guy will keep you in the lifestyle you’re accustomed to.”
“Not interested,” I say. Nope, not interested in my ex-boyfriend at all, and truthfully,