The Negotiator (Harbor City 1)

His brother easily avoided his wild punch before connecting a jab to Sawyer’s jaw. Sawyer’s head snapped back and pain vibrated through his already aching head. Not that it mattered. His brother—the one he’d always trusted to have his back—had pushed Clover away. Red leaked into Sawyer’s vision and he struck out with everything he had. Unfortunately, after almost two days of only alcohol and sriracha-flavored chips, that wasn’t much. Hudson bobbed and weaved, then shoved Sawyer hard until he landed back in the chair he’d jumped out of.

“Oh, stop it.” Helene glared at both of them. “Sawyer, you’d already mucked it all up before your brother opened his big mouth anyway. No one wants to get married because their future spouse thinks they make a good teammate. Everyone wants to be—and deserves to be—noticed and loved for the little things that make them who they are, the details that make them special. If you love her, those are the reasons why you do and you have to tell her every one.”

What bullshit.

All the frustration that had been boiling inside him spilled over. “I do notice all of those details about Clover,” he yelled, loud enough that the words reverberated in his head. “The way she chews her lip when she’s nervous. The way the sunlight catches her hair and brings out the red you don’t see otherwise. The way her brain moves so quick in negotiations. The way she owns a room the moment she walks into it.”

His mother lifted an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t react to his outburst. “Then I suggest you find a way to tell her that.”

All the fight leaked out of him as the realization hit of just how much he’d fucked everything up. If he didn’t feel like puking so much, he’d go get the bottle of whiskey from the bar cart and fall back into it.

Helene opened up her purse, reached inside, and pulled out the emerald and diamond engagement ring. “A hotel employee found this in the supply closet and the hotel notified management, who called me. Of course, I immediately recognized it as your grandmother’s ring.” She held it out to him. “I believe you’ll be needing it.”

He kept his hands fisted on his thighs and his gaze averted. He’d fucked up. Clover was gone. A ring wasn’t going to bring her back. “I won’t.”

She harrumphed and dropped the ring onto the red bar cart. “So you say.”

Obviously deciding that she’d driven the sword in deep enough, Helene motioned to Hudson and they both walked to the elevator and disappeared inside, leaving him alone to stew in his own misery and stink. From where he sat, he could see the ring glimmering as the light streaming in from the balcony landed on the bar cart. He should throw both items over the balcony railing. The thing squeezing his chest tight loosened. He’d never had a better idea. Get rid of them and anything else that she’d ever touched. Then, he could create a new big-picture plan on the clean slate that would be left.

Energized for the first time since he’d left the Bayview Hotel, Sawyer leaped out of his chair and strode over to the closet where he had hidden all of the stupid hiking boots she’d ordered. He piled them high on the bar cart. He reached out to grab it by the handles ready to toss the whole lot overboard and— He couldn’t do it. Maybe later, after a shower. That would clear his head, and afterward he’d get rid of anything that even remotely reminded him of Clover. Now that was a big-picture plan.

…

Achy but cried out, Clover cuddled deeper under her covers and pressed “Next Episode” on her tablet. So what if she was now three episodes deep in a superhero show about a woman who drank too much and did her best to act like she didn’t give a shit about anyone except her best friend. Perfect for someone who was in a fuck-the-world kind of mood. It wasn’t like Clover had anywhere to go or anything to do. She was unemployed. Australia was officially a pipe dream. And she had a hole in her chest where her heart used to be. Plus she couldn’t get Hudson’s words out of her head about how she’d been looking for her purpose. What was the point of it all? What good was having all of the adventures in the world and helping people if she didn’t have anyone to share those experiences with?

Take, for example, her mom. For most of Clover’s life, if she’d had to nail down a purpose and a point, it would be to make sure she didn’t turn out shackled to a white picket fence like her mom. But after what happened with her dad, she’d seen her parents’ life in a new light. They were happy together. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. But it was real, it was good, and—she suddenly realized—it was an experience, an adventure, she wanted to have, too.

The credits on her show had just started to run when her tablet screen froze and her mom’s face popped up as if she’d conjured her by thought alone, and Clover clicked accept. “Hi, Mom.”

“Are you sick honey?” her mom asked. “You don’t look so hot.”

Thanks for the confirmation, Mom. “No, just considering never getting out of bed again.”

Concern put a little V between her mom’s eyes. “What happened?”

Oh Dios mío, where did she start? Really, there was only one place she could. So, she told her mom about the weirdest temp job ad she’d ever read for a personal buffer then continued on to telling off Sawyer’s mom without realizing, landing the job, and then ending up with a fake fiancé. By then she was on a roll and naturally went on to explain how pineapple shakes led to flea market finds and then, finally, to a maybe baby and the world’s worst proposal from the man she loved who didn’t love her back.

And because the fates were bitches, she was crying again by the time she got to the end of it. “I couldn’t say yes.”

“Even though you love him,” her mom said, her voice soft with sympathy.

“Especially because of that.” She hiccupped and wiped her nose with one of the last tissues in the box by her bed.

Her mom sighed, her own bottom lip trembling. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s my fault.” She wiped a tear away with the back of her hand and took a deep breath. “I was just so worried about getting trapped in some kind of domestic prison that I never realized I was falling in love with Sawyer until it was too late.”

Her mom cocked her head. “Domestic prison?”

“Mom, I’ve been a complete ass to you.” A choked sob had her shoulders shaking as tears streamed unchecked down her face. “You gave up so much when you got pregnant with me and had to marry Dad—”

Clover’s voice broke, the need to finally tell her mom everything overweighing any hesitation to peel back the polite covering and finally say what had been eating away at her for all these years. “I never wanted to be like you, Mom. That’s why I kept leaving.” There. She’d finally said it, but she didn’t feel better. She felt worse. Worse than a complete ass, if that was possible. She swiped at her wet face, trying to clear her vision enough to gauge how much those wor

ds had hurt her mom.

“I know, honey,” her mom said. “It’s okay. I know to you I always seemed to have given up everything to be with your father.”

“But you did, Mom! No more trips for you. No more adventures. No more excitement. You sacrificed everything and still ended up eating apple pie, which you hate, on a weekly basis just because dad likes apple pie for Sunday brunch. I swore to myself that I’d never end up like that.” The tears started falling again in earnest as she realized how she’d short-changed her mom for her entire life. She was the worst daughter ever. “All I could see was all you’d given up, not what you gained, too.”