“Yes.” I head to the door. “Send them over. I want my hand in everything when it comes to the manor. This is a big project for me.”

“Of course, sir. Before you leave, just a reminder that your dad scheduled a meeting in half an hour.”

I inwardly roll my eyes. “How many times do I have to tell him he doesn’t have to schedule a damn meeting? He can just call.”

Gina holds back a smile. “He said he felt fancy scheduling with me.”

“Of course he did.” I let out a long breath. “Where are we meeting?”

“The Lighthouse Inn.”

“Okay. I’ll head over. Send over those mock-ups.”

With that, I stride out of the manor, across the expansive wraparound porch, and out to my car. The weather is cooling down, the leaves are falling, and the smell of winter is in the air. It’s going to come sooner rather than later, which means football season is halfway done. Just a few more months and I can breathe a little easier.

“There’s my important son.” My dad stands and pulls me into a hug. A few inches shorter than me, he buries his head in my suit jacket. Never one to fear affection, he’s always shown his love for his kids, even now that we’re in our late twenties.

“You can call me when you want to meet up. You don’t need to schedule anything with Gina.”

“Why not? It’s fun. She’s a kind girl; I hope you pay her well.”

I shake my head and take a seat, unbuttoning my suit jacket and letting the quarters drop to the side. “Do you even have to ask? You know I do.”

“Just making sure you’re not some ruthless businessman with a black heart.”

“Both are true, but I still know when I have a great employee.”

He tilts his head to the side. “I’ll give you the ruthless businessman, but a black heart? Not my son.”

There’s no point arguing with him. He believes all his children are upstanding citizens with the ability to love, laugh, and live life to the fullest. Little does he know . . . I might be living, but there sure as hell isn’t any love or laughter.

Especially since Harper came back to town. Having her here is a constant reminder of everything I lost, how I blew up my past and threw away the best thing I ever had.

“So what’s up, Dad?” I ask, pushing down my dark thoughts and flipping open the menu, not really hungry for lunch but aware my dad will want to make this a lunch date. I resign myself to the french onion soup.

“I’m interested in a piece of property, and I want your professional opinion on it.”

I shift in my seat, surprised, and turn my menu over. “You want to invest in something?”

He nods. “But I want to run over the specifics first, see if it’s worthwhile or not.”

“Does this have to do with the building next to the Lobster Landing, the one everyone has been gossiping about?”

Dad groans and leans back in his chair. “You know, you let one little thing slip to the elders at the corner store, and everyone knows about it.”

“Come on, Dad, you want to turn that building into a restaurant. How could that not get around?”

Slyly, my dad wiggles his eyebrows. “And have you heard the consensus? The town is excited to see what we can do.”

“And what about the restaurant committee? You know how they feel about new restaurants in town. It took Jake six months to gain approval just so he could open up his food truck down by the harbor.” Jake is a fellow Port Snow lifer who came back to town after college, wanting to get in on the tourism boom and run his food truck, Jake’s Cakes. He has the best crab cakes in town, hands down—though I rarely let myself eat one.

“Yes, but Jake’s young and wants to please. I’m old, helped build this town to its glory, and I do whatever the hell I want. I could care less about a committee. I care about the people, and the people have spoken. They want a Lobster Landing Restaurant.”

“Okay.” I shift the silverware on my side of the table. “But you just retired and handed the Lobster Landing over to Griffin to run. Are you just going to jump back into business?”

“No. Reid can do it.”

And there it is: another family member trying to save Reid.

Griffin is the first to jump to his defense. Brig is the first to coddle him when he’s low, and Jen is the first to invite him over for dinner because he’s lonely. I get it; Reid was dealt a shit hand in life, but I don’t understand why my family continues to baby him. They didn’t baby me when all hell broke loose in my life. Instead, I picked my ass off the ground and built a business from the ground up. I might be a glorified landlord, but at least I’m something.

“You’re not going to buy Reid a restaurant.”

“I’m not buying it for him,” he counters, sensing my irritation. “I’m buying it for the family, for generations to come.”

“Dad, I see the way you look at Reid, like you failed him somehow. You can’t buy a restaurant in the hopes that it will change the way Reid looks at life. He has to change himself.”

Eyes cast at the table, a slump in his shoulders, my dad is about to say something when someone appears at our table. Glancing away from his sullen face, I look up to find a very awkward and nervous Harper standing over us, order pad in hand, apron wrapped around her waist.

Oh shit.

“Um . . . hi. Are you guys ready to order?”

At the sound of her voice, my dad perks up and stands abruptly. “Harper, dear, how are you?” He wraps her in one of his classic embraces, clamping her tight with his arms.

“Mr. Knightly, it’s so great to see you.”

“Are you working here at the inn now?” he asks, taking a seat and sporting a huge smile.

She shifts, avoiding all eye contact with me. “Just for a bit, you know, until I get back on my feet.”

Back on her feet? What does she mean by that? At Ren’s party, she said she was here to help her dad out. Was that what she said? Then why would she be working at the inn? Something’s not adding up.

“Well, if you need more work, we could always use you down at the Lobster Landing.”

Is he insane? That might be the worst idea he’s ever had.

“Oh, that’s very kind of you, Mr. Knightly, but I’m very happy working out here on the peninsula.” Posing her pen, she continues, “What can I get you two for lunch?”

This is weird.

Really fucking weird and uncomfortable. Having Harper take my lunch order doesn’t seem right; it’s almost degrading in a sense. Here I am, in a business suit, wearing a Movado watch and Tom Ford shoes, while Harper hovers above me in a maroon Lighthouse Inn polo and black apron.

Guilt consumes me. Is this what she’s been doing since we broke up? She’d been an event management major with goals and ambition, but when I dropped out of college, she followed closely behind, disappearing somewhere along the East Coast.

So what really brought her back to Port Snow? Surely it’s not to be a waitress at an inn.

“Uh . . .” I cough, shifting so I’m staring down at the menu, unable to look her in those telling hazel eyes. “French onion soup and water is fine for me. Thank you.” Feeling like an ass, I hand her the menu and adjust the sleeves of my jacket to stay busy.

“It’s polite to look at the girl when you order, son,” my dad chastises, flinging a sugar packet at my chest.

Nothing ever gets by my family . . . nothing.

I can get mad at my brothers, call them names, throw the occasional punch their way, but with my dad, there’s no way I can disrespect him or make him feel like he’s done anything other than raise five perfectly respectable children.

Grinding my teeth together, I steel myself and look up at Harper, taking in the light splattering of freckles across her nose, the same freckles I used to count whenever I held her in my arms.

Mouth dry, hands unsteady under the table, I say, “Water and french onion soup, please.”

“Sure,” she answers shyly and turns to my dad. “And for you, Mr. Knightly?”

“The same, and could we have some of those homemade cheddar biscuits to start us off?” He grins up at her. “Remember how you two kids used to beg me to come here just to grab you a bag for your Saturday beach days?”

What the hell is he doing right now? I glare at him, but it makes no impact.

“And don’t think I don’t know about all the fudge you two stole.”

Harper blushes, and I grow more furious by the second. “If it makes you feel better, I took money from my dad to get Capri Suns.”

My dad waves a hand at her and laughs. “Chuck and I were well aware of you two and your sticky hands. We didn’t mind since you were staying out of trouble, but if you ever cross me, I very well might deliver a fudge bill to your doorstep.”

Harper chuckles, the sound falling straight to the pit of my stomach. “I would happily pay it.” She taps the table. “I’ll be right back with your biscuits. Good to see you again, Mr. Knightly.”

“You too, dear.” He sighs, eyes still fixed on Harper as she strides away. “She’s such a—”

“What the hell was that?” I snap, leaning over the table so only he can hear me.

“What do you mean?”

“You knew she was here, didn’t you?”

He examines his hand, suddenly very interested in his nails. “Your mom might have mentioned it.”