Hailey straightened and started to walk forward, relieved when Skye fell into step beside her. Under any other circumstances, Hailey would have taken time to appreciate the elegance of the guesthouse and the impressive view of the ocean behind it. All of her attention, though, was on the little girl beside her.
They stepped beyond an ornate wooden door and into a beautifully decorated hallway that was flanked on one side by two sitting areas. One had a fireplace and bookshelves. The other was more open with large windows that brought the outside in. They followed Michael farther inside to the first bedroom, where he deposited Hailey’s luggage. It was a feminine master suite with long drapes and thick carpeting. Michael gave them a brief tour of the adjoining bath area, then led them to a room across the hall.
“We didn’t know what you would like, but we did our best to prepare the room for you,” Michael said.
The room was decorated in purple and light green, Skye’s two favorite colors. If someone had sat with Hailey and given her a limitless budget to design the perfect room, this would have been it. It was youthful but with just enough sophistication. A castle bed dominated half the room. In general, Skye had outgrown her fascination with princesses, but this bed was delicately crafted. A staircase led to a bed above. The section beneath had a built-in desk along with several bookshelves and a tuffet reading chair. Skye let go of Hailey’s hand and walked toward the bed. She ran her hands over the books, her books, that filled the shelves. Her attention turned to a package on the desk. She touched it, then looked to Hailey.
Michael said, “I believe it has your name on it.”
“Open it,” Hailey urged.
Skye slowly, carefully unwrapped it and held up a chapter book, Billy and the Lion.
Michael said, “Mrs. Westerly said her grandchildren used to love that book, and she hopes you will as well.”
There was a time when Hailey would have asked Skye to thank Michael, but she held back the words. Skye was looking like she might be able to accept this move and that was enough for now. Hailey asked, “Do you like it, Skye?”
Skye held the book up, then tucked it against herself and nodded.
Michael smiled in a way that warmed the room. “Well then, I’ll tell Mrs. Westerly you said so and she’ll be pleased.” After a pause, he said, “If there’s nothing else you require, I’ll return to the main house.”
Hailey walked with him to the front door, encouraged by the fact that Skye stayed behind to explore her new room. She held out a hand toward Michael. “Thank you. For everything.” Part of her wanted to explain Skye’s silence to him, but it was neither the time nor the place to do so, and he didn’t seem to need it.
He nodded politely, stepped outside, and reminded her that she was expected at the main house before dinner. Hailey said she would be there and closed the door. She almost allowed herself to slump against it in relief but then caught Skye watching her, so she squared her shoulders and forced a smile to her lips.
It had been a year filled with loss, but the worst of it was over. As she walked toward Skye, she reminded herself she was a survivor. Skye is, too.
I know all about loss, honey, but I also know you can’t let it beat you. Although Hailey had been older, she knew how devastating the death of a parent was. Her mother had walked out on her family when she and Ryan were very young, leaving her father to raise his children alone. She’d survived that loss because her father and brother told her she would. They’d watched over her, and she remembered her childhood as a happy one.
Her father had worked long hours to make sure she and Ryan could go to college. Worked too much. He had put off seeing a doctor about chest pains because he hadn’t wanted to take a day off.
One day, Hailey was looking forward to her sophomore year in college, with a perfect boyfriend and amazing friends; the next, she was a shell of herself who returned to school and simply went through the motions.
Oh yes, Hailey understood how one needed to withdraw from everyone they knew. It wasn’t that people hadn’t cared. Her friends relentlessly tried to drag her out, but drinking, even a little, brought too many emotions to the surface, and Hailey ended up crying and embarrassing herself rather than having a good time.
And Spencer? The very side of him that she’d loved in the beginning, his obsession with his garage lab, had been more important to him than her. His all-consuming drive to start his own tech company took priority over anything she felt. He’d said he was determined to be somebody important.
He didn’t understand he already was.
To me.
I didn’t care if he ever made it big. I loved the way he looked at me, how we laughed together, the way his touch lit a fire in me. After Dad died, though, I needed him to notice that I was falling apart. Hold me. Tell me everything would be okay.
She’d tried to explain it to him once, using an analogy of pie and cake. A person could have pie every week and never tire of it. It was always good. Always reliable. She’d desperately needed Spencer to acknowledge that the under-celebrated comfort pastry was more important than a flashy, ten-tiered cake. He had defended his love of cake with the stubbornness of a man with no clue that such an argument could end a relationship.
Just as it had.
After that fight and weighed down with grief, she’d called her brother and said she wanted to go home—home being with the last of her family. She’d retreated from her schooling, her friends, and Spencer . . . needing more than anything the feeling of safety from having family in the next room. She’d expected Spencer to see how he’d hurt her and come for her. Not for a moment had she thought it would really be over.
He did call. He’d even said he loved her, had been going out of his mind without her. They’d made plans to get together, but he didn’t show. She’d waited for him for hours in a coffee place near her brother’s apartment. Called. Texted. No answer. Eventually, sad and confused, she’d gone home and gotten drunk for the first time in her life.
When she’d woken the next day to a killer hangover and still no word from Spencer, she let herself cry. It wasn’t a time in her life that she was proud of. Life had knocked her off her feet, and instead of standing, she’d curled up on her brother’s couch and cried until she felt numb and empty.
Her brother had come to her, trying to console her, and said, “Life sucks sometimes, Hailey. I don’t know why. It’s not fair. It’s not pretty, but you don’t ever let it beat you. Do you hear me? Dad raised us stronger than this. One foot in front of the other. Your life won’t get better if you don’t get off your ass and make it happen.”
“You just want me to start paying rent,” Hailey had joked.