“What?” Panic consumes me. “No.” I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts of Ren out of my mind, at least for this brief meeting. “I’m sorry, it’s been a rough two weeks, but I’m here, present. I can do this, Dad.”

He levels me with a questioning glare. “It might sound dramatic, but the success of this booth is important to me. When your mom and I created the Lobster Landing and built it from the ground up, we had dreams of being able to give back to the community, to reinvest in this town that helped create a beautiful place for us to raise our family. Lobster Fest is about giving back. I need you to be present.”

“I am.” I grip my dad’s shoulder to add reassurance. “I’m present, Dad. This means a lot to me, too—I think more than you know. I want to be the man you can trust to take over your business. I’ve done everything leading up to this point for the Lobster Fest; trust me that I can handle this.”

He twists his lips to the side, thinking over my words, and finally he says, “You’ve done a great job so far. I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t be. It’s going to be amazing, Dad. The best booth in town.” I conspiratorially whisper, “By far better than Lobsters and Limerence’s booth.”

His eyebrows drawn, an irritated look mars my dad’s face. “That two-bit, pathetic excuse for a gift shop from two towns over can go to hell.”

Lobsters and Limerence is a sore subject. Established three years ago, it tried to model its entire business after the Lobster Landing and failed, providing the town of Coxachy with a cheap imitation not worth your time, but it still chaps my dad’s ass every time the owners come to Port Snow and buy out a booth. The only reason they’re allowed in the festivities is because they pay a hefty vendor fee that goes to preserving our beautiful stone library. But because the Lobster Fest committee is clearly Team Lobster Landing, they stick that booth in the far corner with very low visibility.

Don’t mess with the Knightlys.

“Do you know what their booth theme is?” my dad asks, still fuming.

I chuckle to myself, positive we have them beat. “Yup, and it’s horrible.”

“Give me a good laugh. What is it?”

“The Great Pumpkin.”

“Oh hell.” My dad has a good chuckle, knowing full well that this is the third year in a row they’re trying to pull off their overused theme. “They’re sunk.”

“No doubt in my mind.”

Week three.

Week fucking three, and as I stand here watching tourists and locals boast about our Lobster Fest booth, all I can think about is . . . how goddamn depressed I am.

I should be ecstatic, a happy motherfucker that not only did I pull off putting together a booth that will be remembered for years, but it’s been so damn successful that we sold out in the first two hours and have had to bring in reinforcements.

But none of that matters, because all I can think about is Ren. Is she here? Is she avoiding the festival altogether? Has she even thought about me?

Has she moved on?

That last thought makes my stomach clench, a wave of nausea hitting me hard.

And it doesn’t help that everyone keeps complimenting us on our theme, the theme that Ren thoughtfully came up with and that I played off, or the fact that everyone in town keeps mentioning the new algebra teacher and how our booth is going to give her a warm welcome to Port Snow.

It’s as if the town is ganging up on me, reminding me what a moronic ass I am.

“You look pale. Do you need some water?” Jen asks, stepping up next to me.

I’m standing off to the side, watching our staff expertly work the booth. “I’m good.” I adjust the red and worn-out Lobster Landing hat on my head. “Just taking everything in.” I scan the crowd, looking for a beautiful brunette with green eyes that have haunted my dreams nightly.

“Are you looking for Ren?”

“No,” I say too quickly, putting a big, fat label of guilty right on my chest.

“She’s here.”

My head whips to the side. “Really?”

Jen slowly nods, lips thin, eyes cast down. “Yup, saw her looking around. She’s wearing a purple sweater, jeans, and boots. She looks really good.”

Is Jen trying to torture me?

Knowing my meddling sister, I’m going to say yes. Yes, she is trying to torture me.

“That’s good.” My voice squeaks. “I’m glad she’s . . . you know . . .” I dig my hands in my pockets. “Doing well.”

A pregnant silence falls between us right before Jen says, “You know, you could still be together—”

“Drop it, Jen.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“And you’re being annoying. Leave it the fuck alone.”

She huffs. “Fine, but good luck when you see her, because I’m pretty sure you’re not going to be happy.”

Before I can ask her what she means by that, Jen takes off to help Mandy at the cash register.

Not happy? Hell, I’m already not happy; how could it get any worse? Shaking my head, I turn away from the cider pairing and scan the candle booth across the way, catching a streak of purple in the corner of my eye.

Because I’m desperate, I look in the direction it came from, and my heart jumps to my throat as I spot Ren, hands in her back pockets, head tilted back, laughing.

She seems so carefree, happy . . . fulfilled, as if we didn’t just break up.

From where I stand, I can hear the faint sound of her laugh. It’s soothing to my ears, makes me feel comforted.

Unabashedly, I study her, the fit of her jeans, the way they cling to her perfect ass, the way her sweater frames her curvy shape, and the soft brown waves of her hair cascading over her shoulders. She’s so goddamn beautiful, so full of life. It makes me think she was right—despite all the obstacles she’s had to overcome, she’s still living her life without fear, without a dark cloud hanging over her head.

She’s brave, unapologetic, and so damn inspiring.

I consider my situation, the spot that I’m in, the curse that seems to be brushing up against me every chance it gets. It consumes me, eats me alive; it’s destroying every moment that I could possibly cherish.

Fuck.

I drag my hand over my face, allowing myself a few more minutes to take her in. And that’s when I see it.

Or more like that’s when I see him.

Tracker from the fire department.

His body language says it all; he’s interested in Ren, and he’s turning on the charm as he makes her laugh over and over again. White-hot rage consumes me as my fists curl at my sides, my anger causing me to take a step forward.

That’s when I feel Jen’s hand against my chest, a warning tone in her whisper. “You can’t do anything about it. Focus on the booth; freak out later. You have a job to do. Get it done, and then worry about Ren after the festival is over.”

“But . . .”

“Dad’s watching. Handle. It. Later.”

Grinding my teeth together, I take a deep breath through my nose and then focus on the booth in front of me. Even if I were to go up to them right now, what the hell would I even say? You can’t date her because . . .

What? Because I’m a jealous, screwed-up fuck who can’t have her but also doesn’t want her to be with anyone else?

I can’t possibly say that, even though I desperately want to.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

GRIFFIN

Knock, knock.

“What the hell did I say? Go away.”

“It’s your nephew. I just want to check on my favorite uncle.” A horrible imitation of a small boy’s voice rings through the door.

“Don’t use your nephew to get to me, Brig. That’s beneath you.”

Through the wooden door, Brig shouts, “You know, it would be nice of you to at least pretend it’s not me. I’ve been practicing that impression all morning.”

“It’s shit.” I sip on my beer, a fuzz falling over my alcohol-soaked brain.

“You know what? This is the last time I’m actually going to check on you.”

I take another sip of my beer. “Good.”

“And just so you know, I was a nice guy and brought you your mail. I’m going to set it on the mat. I hope it doesn’t blow away. I think that new credit card you’ve been waiting for came in.”

Shit. I have been waiting for that damn thing.

It’s my new business card for the Lobster Landing.

Yup, credit line of $20,000, and as the new guy in charge, I’m going to need it for ordering supplies.

A few days after the Lobster Fest, my dad took me out on his fishing dinghy and had a heart-to-heart with me. Told me he was disappointed in me, told me how much of a dumbass I am for believing in a hoax that I’m letting take over my life, and then proceeded to say despite all my idiocies, he couldn’t think of a better person to take over the Lobster Landing.

On one condition . . .

That by the end of the year I get my personal life together.

So looks like for at least the next few months I’ll be in charge, but maybe not any longer, because I don’t foresee myself moving on from this “self-sabotage” streak.

And no matter how many times I tried to explain the situation to my dad, how I’m actually saving Ren from my destructive paths, his only response was, “You’re a dumbass.”

I let out a heavy sigh. Got to love the old man for saying what’s on his mind.

“I’m about to let it go, and it’s really windy out here.”