Page 214 of Better When Shared
“I resigned. That’s why I went to the UK, to wrap up some final things for my clients, make sure they had someone good watching over their estates. Then I told Pemberton I wouldn’t be coming back.” His expression was a mix of terror and exhilaration. “I’ve hated that job for years, Imogen. I just didn’t realize how much until I came here and saw what it looks like when people are passionate about their work. You, with your wedding planning. Makai, with his adventure tours. You both have such passion for what you do.”
“But—the firm, your clients—”
“The firm will carry on without me.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what I want to do next. But there’s no going back to that life. I was miserable. You were the only light in my life, and I fear I relied on you for too much of my happiness.”
I stared at my husband, this man I thought I knew completely, suddenly revealed as a stranger capable of surprising me. “What about the estate? Our home?”
“That’s the tough part. I don’t want to sell it. It’s my last connection to my parents and family. And that old building is a money pit.” He reached for my hands, holding them between his own. “But perhaps we could find tenants to help cover the cost of upkeep? Or board horses at the stables? I don’t know what the answer is yet, but I have hope that we’ll find it. We’ve gotten this far, haven’t we?”
I chewed my bottom lip. “We have. I wonder how one finds tenants for a stately home who would take care of it properly.” I trailed off, the enormity of a move like this suddenly hitting me. How did one find tenants who would show proper care for a historic property?
“I have to believe we can work it out,” Hamish said. “And if worse comes to worst, we can bankroll keeping the estate in good repair with my trust fund. Might have to tighten our belts a bit, spend a little less, but I’d imagine we could.”
“We could live with Makai,” I whispered. “Is that what you want to do, Hamish?”
He looked thoughtful, his gaze turning back toward the water. “I’m not entirely sure what I want yet. But I know I want more mornings like this—waking up somewhere beautiful, with people I care deeply for. Maybe I want to keep helping with Makai’s tours. Or something similar. I liked that, teaching others, seeing them improve.”
“You were good at it,” I whispered. “He told me.”
A pleased flush colored Hamish’s cheeks. “Yeah. It was fun and rewarding, something I don’t think I’ve ever said about work. And if he doesn’t want me at his company, perhaps I could do something similar.”
I tried to picture it, my proper British husband leading mountain bike excursions or teaching surfing lessons, and found that the image came easily. He’d changed here, becoming more the man he perhaps always wanted to be.
“What about Makai?” I asked the question that had been hovering between us. “If we stay...”
“We’ll need to talk to him.” Hamish’s thumb traced circles on my palm. “See if he wants the same things we do. If he’s willing to try something more permanent.”
I thought of Makai’s easy deflections whenever the future came up, his jokes and innuendos that steered conversations back to safer territory. “He might not be ready for that.”
“We won’t know unless we ask.” Hamish lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “But first, I think we need to go back to England and try to tie up a few of our loose ends. So he knows we’re serious. I don’t want to tell him we’ll move here and then find out we can’t stay.”
Chapter 18
Makai
I tapped my fingers against the desk, my leg bouncing with enough force to make Skylar’s coffee mug dance dangerously close to the edge. She’d been talking about the new website booking system for twenty minutes straight, her words washing over me like white noise while my mind kept drifting to the empty cottage on the other side of the island. Three days since Hamish and Imogen had left for England, and I couldn’t stop checking my phone like some lovesick teenager waiting for a text. Pathetic didn’t begin to cover how I felt.
“Are you even listening to me?” Skylar’s voice cut through my thoughts. She pushed her teal-streaked hair out of her eyes and fixed me with an annoyed glare.
“What? Yeah, of course.” I straightened in my chair. “The... uh, booking widget thing needs updating.”
“Calendar integration.” She sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I’ve created a new calendar integration so clients can see real-time availability before booking. Including filling cancelled spots. Which I’ve explained three times now.”
I forced myself to focus on the laptop screen she’d turned toward me, showing colorful blocks of time laid out across a weekly grid. My surf lessons were in blue, mountain bike tours in green, kayaking in orange. All nice and organized.
“Sorry.” I ran a hand through my hair. “It looks great. Really professional.”
“What is wrong with you today?” Skylar closed the laptop. “You’ve been useless all week.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket, checking it again. Nothing new. Just the selfie Imogen had sent yesterday, a photo of her and Hamish with a horse large enough to be dangerous.
“Earth to Makai.” Skylar snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Jesus, you’re hopeless.”
“What do you want from me?” I tossed my phone onto the desk. “I don’t have any tours today. I’m bored out of my mind.”
“So instead of helping me run our business, you’re just going to sulk because your British sex friends went home?”
I flinched at her bluntness. “They’re not just—it’s not like that.”
