Bowie shook his head and leaned forward. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”
The guys from the docks hollered for another round, forcing Graham to get back to work. Bowie sat there for a few minutes thinking about how life had turned out since Austin died. Not only for him, but his friends. Graham left his fancy computer job in California to come back here to help his brother. Mila started drinking and partying too much. Jason went back to Seattle for school and stayed there. Brooklyn left and came back fifteen years later. And Bowie, he was never destined to leave and married the first girl to show him any attention after Brooklyn. There was a time when he had thought his life could’ve been different, and maybe it would have been if Austin hadn’t died. The lives of his friends revolved so much around Austin, and he couldn’t understand how or why it became that way, but he wanted to change it. It was time for them to start living in the present and not the past.
Graham returned, this time with a beer. “I have something to say, and you’re going to want to drink that after I do.”
“Okay,” Bowie said.
He exhaled loudly, cocked his head slightly, and stared at Bowie. “Have you given any thought to the idea that Brooklyn’s daughter might be yours?”
If Bowie had had a mouthful of beer or water, Graham would have been wearing it. Bowie felt his eyebrows rise as he contemplated whether Graham was messing with him. The expression on his face told Bowie that he was serious.
“Look, I’m not trying to stir the pot here, but I think the chances that she’s your kid are pretty strong.”
“I was with Brooklyn one time, man. She was with Austin . . .” Bowie stopped his train of thought. He didn’t want to think about her with Austin. Not now, and definitely not back then. “I just . . . there’s no way—besides, we used a condom.”
Graham nodded. “It just takes one time, and they break. How many people do we know that have kids after a one-night stand?”
He was right, but not about Brystol being his. There was no way Brooklyn would intentionally let her daughter grow up without a father; that much Bowie knew. Brystol talked about Austin being her dad, and Carly—Carly was a devoted grandmother. He’d witnessed the two of them interact. Brooklyn wouldn’t be that cruel, not to Austin’s mother.
Bowie tossed a few bucks onto the bar top and slipped off the stool. “Sorry, man. But I think you’re wrong.” He left the Whale Spout without another glance toward Graham.
TWENTY-EIGHT
As much as Brooklyn hated deadlines, she never missed one. She liked to work at her own pace and wasn’t fond of people looking over her shoulder. The impending death of Carly and everything that had to be done to prepare for it felt like the biggest deadline of all. She had to wrap her head around the fact that her daughter was about to inherit the inn. That wasn’t the only thing weighing heavily on Brooklyn’s mind. The bomb Carly had dropped about Bowie, the one she refused to believe, was adding so much pressure to her head she felt like a migraine was about to set in. Brooklyn wished she could blame the morphine, but she knew Carly was lucid. She had looked right into Brooklyn’s eyes and said the words clearly. Lucid or not, Carly didn’t know what she was talking about. There was no way Bowie was the father of her child, and she refused to even entertain the idea.
Brooklyn tried to pull into the driveway of the inn, but the enormous paving truck blocked her entrance. She considered halting the reconstruction project until after Carly passed, not knowing where her finances were, but knew doing so would only cost more in the end. The inn had to be repaired, especially with Brystol set to inherit it. As it was, Brooklyn could do the work herself. However, as she scanned the area and saw not only her men but Bowie’s crew hard at work, she knew she couldn’t pull the plug. Brooklyn wouldn’t feel right putting all these people out of work and was pretty sure Carly would find all the strength in the world within her to leave the hospital and rehire everyone if she did.
She opened the front door a little too hard, and it banged against the wall, scaring Luke, who growled at her. She wasn’t scared of the dog, but a little taken aback by his response and then relieved that he was protecting her child, and she found herself feeling consoled that Bowie was there.
Brystol shut her book and set it down on the coffee table. Within seconds, she had tears in her eyes and rushed toward her mom, and they wrapped their arms around each other’s waists. They held each other, both crying. Brooklyn’s heart broke for her daughter. The ache was so great she had a hard time swallowing. Brystol had never known death directly until now.