He climbs into bed beside me and turns around to face the wall.
I feel frustrated, out of control, and mostly upset. I waited up and worried and now I don't get anything in return. Not an explanation or anything else.
A few hours later I'm still awake, still stirring. Tyler is fast asleep and the fact that we haven't talked about anything is making me more and more upset.
I pull out my iPad and try to read something, but nothing keeps my interest. I put on Netflix, but an hour goes by before I notice that I'm not paying attention.
Eventually, early in the morning, I finally drift off, but the sleep is not peaceful or long.
The morning is gloomy and blue. Clouds are hanging low and the sun cannot penetrate them.
I know that it's out there somewhere, but I haven't seen it the whole time I've been here and it’s not exactly helping my mood.
I'm leaving tomorrow.
The thought of that dawns on me just as I stretch my arms over my head. This is our last day together and I'm both grateful and irritated at the same time.
When I first came here, I only partly expected to see him, but then, here he was and things between us were even better than they were before.
What happens now?
I miss him already even though we're not yet apart, but I'm also still upset and angry with him, largely for not talking to me last night and not telling me what was going on.
I know that it's irrational. I should have just slept, but that's the thing about emotions, they are often difficult to control. All you can do is feel them and hope that they rush through you without creating too much damage.
Walking into the kitchen, I see Tyler barefoot as always and dressed in his sweats making a stack of pancakes and a large omelet with finely cut up broccoli, asparagus, bell peppers, and mushrooms.
“I wasn't sure what you wanted,” he says, smiling at the corner of his lips.
“Everything,” I say. “I'm famished.”
I take a seat at the table and then realize that there are no plates or utensils. I jump up and grab them from the cupboard next to his head.
“Where did you get all this? I thought that I had eaten everything in your fridge last night.”
“Yes, I’d noticed that,” he says with a smile. “Luckily, there's a market right across the street that opens early.”
“This smells delicious,” I say, taking a whiff from the stove.
“I'm an expert in breakfast foods.”
After setting the plates and the cups, I walk around him to grab the utensils and he stops me. He spins me around and kisses me on the lips.
“What is that for?” I ask.
“It's an apology.”
I avert my eyes, pretending like he has nothing to apologize for, though secretly I really appreciate it.
“Yesterday was a really bad day,” Tyler says. “I mean, it was perfect right until Tim showed up.”
“God, I wish I could have socked him,” he says, making his hand into a fist and then forcing it open. “But I’m glad I didn’t. It would just have made things worse for me. He might have called the police and pressed charges.”
“He wouldn’t have been in the right since he did it first.”
“Of course, but it would have made the whole thing a lot more complicated. The cops would have a lot more questions.”
I nod, getting that familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach again.
“So, you didn't talk to any police officers?”
“I did,” he says and my whole body tenses up. “Don't worry, it was fine. Tim bloodied my face so that was a good thing. The cop could barely look at me and didn't take very long to take my statement.”
“You're not pressing charges?”
“Of course not. I can't risk testifying against anybody in any court.”
I reach over and give him a hug. With my head pressed against his chest, I can hear the pounding of his heart.
It's going fast, faster than normal and I know that this is much more difficult on him than it is on me. It's his life on the line.
“What about the hearing for the hotel sale?”
“Yeah, I don't have much choice about that.”
We both sigh at the same time.
“My attorney is going to take care of it. It's before the civil court judge and I just hope that no one looks too closely.”
After all of the pancakes are ready, we dig in. I grab a portion of the omelet and a pancake, smothering it in maple syrup.
“This is so good,” I say.
“You're just hungry,” he jokes. When he tries it, he nods approvingly and agrees, “It is good.”
We try to talk about something else, but neither of us can really come up with a good topic. There’re only so many times that you can say that it's rainy before you have to move on to something else.
I talk a little bit about my new clients, but it's all the stuff that I have already told him. I don't want to talk about my mother and neither of us want to talk about what's going to happen tomorrow.
Besides, my thoughts keep circling on only one thing.
“I know that you wanted to buy this place because you wanted to stay busy and do something productive and more hands-on than buying and selling stocks, but this place could also be your downfall,” I say.
Tyler breaks off a big piece of his pancake and shoves it into his mouth.
“I don't think I'm saying anything that you don't already know.”
“You're not,” he mumbles, chewing with his mouth closed.
“I'm sorry to bring it up again, but I'm just worried.”
He swallows, looks at me, and responds, “I know that you are. So am I.”
“You are?”
“Of course,” he shrugs. “When I bought this place, I thought it was a clean deal. I knew that the sons didn't approve, but I didn't think that they would push it this far. I didn't think that they would try to take it from me.”
“Well, you know how people are when they think that they're entitled to something that they have no right to.”
“You have to believe me that Mr. Elliott was of complete sound mind when we made this deal.” There's an intensity to Tyler's voice. Even an urgency that I don't really remember hearing before.
“Of course, I believe you. I know that you would never take advantage of him like that.”
“It was an honest and fair deal. I probably even paid too much. His wish was that I keep this place altogether. The marina, the hotel, and the two restaurants. Honestly, that's not a really good financial decision. All parts of it are worth more individually than they are all together and yet I intend to keep my word, even if he has no way of forcing me, legally, to do that.”
“I'm sorry, Tyler,” I say, putting my hand over his from across the table.
“I sometimes think that I should just cave,” he says. “Just give them what they want. Avoid the trial and everything that goes along with it.”
“And?” I ask, my heart skipping a beat. I don't want to say this out loud yet, but that's not the worst idea.
He doesn't respond.
“How would that work exactly?”
“I could just tell my lawyer that I don't want to fight. There are three of them making a case. In situations like this, the family often wins because judges tend to side with families. It would be one thing if there were one brother pitted against another, but that's not the case. I'm a stranger and it's going to be an uphill battle, not to mention exorbitantly expensive to fight it.”