Holiday In the Hamptons (From Manhattan with Love 5)

“I do understand.”

If anyone hurt Harriet the way it seemed she’d hurt Seth, she’d break them in half.

“Are you angry with me?”

Fliss stirred and stood up. “No. You love him. You’re protecting him. And you’re right, I’d do the same in your position.”

“All I ever wanted was to see him happy. Seth is like my dad. He wants a home and family. He wants to settle down with someone he loves. For him, that’s you. If you don’t feel the same way, if you can’t give him what he needs, then you need to tell him. And you need to tell him soon.”

Fliss hung up the phone and wandered like a sleepwalker back to the library. The thought that she’d hurt him so badly once before left her feeling as if she’d been flayed raw.

The happiness she’d felt had gone. All that was left was a kind of sick panic. Doubt slid into every corner of her mind. That inner voice that she’d worked so hard to silence was suddenly shouting so loudly she could hear nothing else.

What if she couldn’t be what he needed her to be?

She sank to the floor among the jumble of boxes that were part of Seth’s past. He was clearing it out, getting ready to step into the future.

He wanted her to be part of that future.

* * *

SETH WALKED BACK into the house and dropped his car keys on the counter.

“Fliss?”

There was no answer. Had she left? After ten backbreaking hours of clearing out and hauling boxes, he wouldn’t have blamed her.

Hearing a noise from the library, he followed the sound, and saw Fliss stacking books. Something about the stiff set of her shoulders didn’t seem quite right to him.

“Fliss?”

She paused for a moment and then turned. There was a smudge on her cheek and she looked exhausted.

“Hi. How was the surgery? Is the dog okay?”

“The dog is fine. You, on the other hand, don’t look fine. You need to stop now. You’re tired.” But something told him the look on her face had little to do with packing boxes.

She closed the box she was filling and wiped her palms on her shorts. “You’re right. I should probably go. I need a shower.”

“While you’re doing that, I’ll make you dinner.”

“Not tonight. I was thinking of going back to my grandmother’s.”

She’d been fine when he’d left. Smiling, laughing, distracting him as she’d dived elbow deep into boxes of books.

Was this because she was tired, or had something happened?

He picked up the boxes she’d packed and piled them in the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” He stacked one box on top of another in the hallway, sifting through the possibilities in his mind. It couldn’t possibly be anything to do with him. “Is Harriet okay?”

“She’s fine.” She hauled another box out of the library, not looking at him.

“Fliss—”

“Actually she’s not okay.” She straightened and turned to face him. “She needs me. I’m going back to Manhattan t

omorrow.”