Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Sinclair

Paul has this nonsense campaign about Kentbury being life-changing. I didn't believe him when he first told me but now . . .

Ever since I stepped into that quaint town things have been completely unexpected. Like finally finding closure after my less than stellar marriage. Then getting the chance to reconnect with my sisters. Even meeting Lavender and learning that there's more to a relationship than just following what seems to be crappy examples from my parents.

Things were going well in Kentbury when suddenly I couldn't keep my word to her, and after having lunch with the crochet club ladies, I had to drive back to Boston. My father was losing his ever-loving shit. He didn't like that I had a plan to help the company—sell it to Barnaby and myself. My brother and I spent days explaining that he's about to lose everything. Unsurprisingly, Dad threatened to sue me. Raffa refused to take the case and actually quit Dad's legal team.

It took almost three weeks for us to convince our father to sell, a battle of wills that left us all exhausted and on edge.

While in Boston, I exchanged texts with Lavender. Some of them were just focused on her lighting company or how the camp was taking form, but really it was mostly just us checking in with each other. Since Raffa was in a good mood, he took a look at the LuxLumens case. He worked with Lavender's lawyer so things could be expedited.

Mom, on her part, told me that if I was going to be in charge of Dad's company permanently, I needed to find a wife. She made a remark that I had to ensure that it's with someone who is willing to put up with me. Stating if need be, that we can have an open marriage so we both can be content. Now it makes me wonder if my parents have that kind of arrangement. That's a thought that makes my stomach churn. No one wants to know what their parents do when their relationships are, like in this case, questionable.

That was the one and only thing I respected about my father—his unconditional love for my mother. I guess even that wasn't real. And that is the crux of the problem with love, the example of love that I was taught. Neither one of my parents were willing to crack their chests open to surrender their hearts. Yet, there are people like Lavender who expect it or the deal is over.

Lavender has made me believe that love has to be all or nothing. Deep, passionate, and unique—probably just like her. If I want to have something meaningful, I have to want it that way. Maddening and all-consuming, a love that sweeps me off my feet and leaves me breathless with its intensity.

This idea. This ideal of love she holds—it challenges every preconceived notion I've had. It makes me question whether the cautious, calculated approach I've always taken is really any safer or just a shield against the raw, messy reality of genuine emotion.

Lavender has this way of making the extraordinary seem attainable, of making the depth of emotion not just a fairy tale but something real, something tangible. And that's what scares me the most—not that I might not reach her standards, but that I might finally allow myself to feel that deeply, that completely.

Love, I'm starting to realize, isn't about holding back or keeping safe. It's about those moments of madness, of total surrender to another person, that create something truly profound. Maybe, just maybe, it's time to stop calculating and start feeling.

And if love is to be maddening, then let it unravel me completely. But also, let it be with her, the one who takes my heart, the one who makes me feel alive in ways I never knew possible.

With a sudden sense of clarity, I push myself away from the railing, my heart pounding with a newfound determination. I need to hear her voice.

It's been almost a month since I've been away, and I find myself standing on the terrace of my penthouse in Boston, the city lights twinkling below like a sea of stars. The cool night air caresses my skin as I pull out my phone and dial Lavender's number, my heart racing with anticipation.

As the phone rings, I lean against the railing, my eyes fixed on the horizon, wondering what she'll say, if she's been thinking about me as much as I've been thinking about her. The distance between us feels like a physical ache, a longing that I can't quite shake, no matter how hard I try to focus on the task at hand.

"Hi, Sin. This is a nice surprise," she answers with a warm voice that reminds me of the morning we spent by the lake reflecting about life. It stirs a deep yearning in me to be back in Kentbury, though it's her presence I miss even more.

"I was about to text you but thought it'd be easier to call since I'm going through some documents Raffa sent over," I say, trying to sound casual despite the urge to see her, maybe ask her if we could do a video call instead. "I'm trying to multitask."

"Have I mentioned that your brother is grumpier than you? Were you taught to grunt while learning how to speak?" she jokes.

"Ha, ha." I try not to sound annoyed, but a twinge of frustration creeps into my voice. "Is he being rude to you? If he is, I can talk to him."

"Nah, he's cool, and I'm thankful that he's helping expedite the case. I might be able to open the store again by the end of August, but . . ." she hesitates, and I can almost see her biting her lip. "I feel like every time we're on the phone, he's mad at me."

"Nah, that's just him," I say, trying not to sound defensive because what the fuck is wrong with my brother.

"So I'm right. He is like you," she insists, and I can imagine her eyebrows raising, a challenge in her voice.

Being lumped in with my brother's demeanor is pretty shitty. He's arrogant and self-centered, always putting his own interests first. He's the kind of guy who talks over people in meetings, who thinks he's always right and everyone else is just there to follow his lead.

"Raffa should take some anger management classes—and maybe learn some manners while he's at it," I say.

"So I'm right, he's just like you," she insists, and I can feel my hackles rising.

"Am I really like that?" I ask, my voice tight with tension.

"Less now than when I met you, I have to admit. In any case, have you heard?" There's clapping on the other side, and her voice takes on an excited tone. " The camp's doors open tomorrow. You'll be here, right?"

Paul did tell me yesterday that everything is finally set. McKay and Lou keep texting me about it. I'm not ignoring them, but definitely dodging their calls.

"Sin, you have to be here when they open," Lavender says, her voice pleading.

"I still have work to do," I say, pinching the bridge of my nose as I remember I'm on the phone.

"You're our swimming instructor," she reminds me, and I can hear the disappointment in her voice.

"What part of ‘don't count on me' do you people not get?" I snap, immediately regretting my tone as the words leave my mouth.

"See, growly," she teases, and I can almost see the smirk on her face.

I groan, running a hand through my hair. "What's gotten into you today, Wilde?"

"I got to meet some of the campers. I'm extra excited—you have to be here, Sin," she says, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm.

"But—" I start, but she cuts me off.

"No buts. You promised us two weeks and not only did you leave way before the time promised but you didn't even say goodbye. Time to make it up to us," she insists, and I can imagine her pointing a finger at me accusingly.

"I already explained it to you. It was an emergency," I say, my shoulders sagging with the weight of the world on my shoulders.

"Which is fixed, and now you can come back," she insists, her voice taking on a persuasive tone. "It's just for the summer. We don't have that many weeks left."

Somehow the way she says it makes me wonder if her plans are changing. Don't get me wrong, that small town is cute and a great place to relax. Living there is impossible when you have a lot of people who depend on you. Still, I have to ask, "Are you planning to move full-time to Kentbury now?"

"Nope. My business is in the city, but I will come more often," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "Recharging by getting my fill of small-town magic is essential to survive the big bad city."

"Big bad city?" I ask a little skeptical. "Why stay if you don't like it?"

"Oh, I do like it. It just sounded catchy to say that," she corrects.

"Would you ever be willing to move somewhere else?" I ask her, the question tumbling out before I can stop it.

"I . . . I don't know. Why am I moving?" she falters, clearly puzzled.

"What if the guy you fall in love with lives in another state—or country?" I press, my heart hammering in my chest as I wait for her answer.

After a long pause, she turns the question back on me. "Would you move?"

That's a question I've never asked myself, but instinctively I respond. "Probably for the right person."

There's a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and I can almost feel the weight of my words hanging between us. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed, as if I've revealed a part of myself I didn't even know existed.

"I guess I would too," she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "For the right person, I mean."

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Good to know," I say, trying to keep my voice light despite the fluttering in my chest.

"So, you'll be here for the opening?" she asks, steering the conversation back to safer ground.

I hesitate for a moment, torn between my responsibilities in Boston and the pull of Kentbury—of Lavender. "Not sure, but I'll try my best to find a way to delegate," I say finally, a compromise that feels both inadequate and necessary.

"Everyone is going to be thrilled to hear that," she says, her voice filled with genuine excitement.

"But, Lav," I say, my heart racing as I gather the courage to speak my mind. "After long consideration, we're going to tweak the challenge."

"Oh," she whispers.

"I do plan on getting to know you and be your friend. Just . . . until I learn how to crack my chest open and give you what you deserve."

I'm not sure where that comes from. No, I'm not in love with her or anything, but there's something between us, I know. To this day, I can't stop thinking about her. Every morning, she's my first text, and at night, my last thought. Who knows what that means? Obviously, people who have been in love—but I want to pursue it and get to the bottom of the situation where maybe I can finally figure out what the fuss is about.

"Oh," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, and I can imagine her eyes widening in surprise, her lips parted slightly as she processes my words.

"I'll text you tomorrow before I head out for my daily run. Sweet dreams, Lav," I say, my voice soft and warm, a promise of things to come.

I hang up the phone, my heart still pounding in my chest as I lean back against the railing, a grin spreading across my face. I feel lighter somehow, as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, a sense of clarity washing over me.

I know I've taken a risk, putting my feelings out there like that, but somehow, my gut tells me it's right. Like a piece of a puzzle falling into place, a step toward something bigger, something more meaningful than anything I've ever experienced before.

As I look out over the city, the lights twinkling like stars in the distance, I can't help but feel a sense of excitement, of anticipation for what the future holds. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm meant to be, taking a chance on something that could change my life forever.

And even though I don't know what the future holds, even though there's still so much uncertainty and so many challenges ahead, I know one thing for sure: I'm ready to take that leap, to dive headfirst into the unknown and see where it takes me.

With a smile on my face and a spring in my step, I head back inside, already counting down the hours until I can see Lavender again.

Is this crazy?

This is probably the craziest venture I've ever considered, but my soul says it's worth it.

She's worth it.