Page 87 of Holding On

Chapter Twenty-One

Travis Russo

Devon’s on the public landing, waiting for us. I can see her pacing. Luke, looking rumpled and sleepy, is standing next to her, holding two to-go cups of coffee.

“What’s she doing?”

“I don’t know,” says Maya, expertly steering the dinghy toward the public landing, one hand on the till. She’s very proud that she picked up piloting the dinghy so quickly. I’m proud of her too.

Slightly worried, I calm myself. If there were a real emergency, someone would have come to the island. When I called to tell Chloe to save us some breakfast, she passed the phone to Devon, who told us to hurry.

I asked what was wrong. She claimed nothing, but now she’s pacing.

“Why the seafarer’s welcome?” I kiss my sister on the cheek while Luke grabs the two duffle bags from the dinghy and helps Maya out.

I’m tying up the boat, and she’s trying to help. Her hands keep getting in the way. “I got this, Devon,” I say, and she stuffs her hands into her pockets.

Luke and Maya are already on shore. He’s telling her something, and then she glances back at me with such a tender look that I almost don’t hear what Devon says next.

“Can you come to The Inn at eleven?”

“What?”

“Just promise me you’ll come, okay? And don’t get mad at me.”

I straighten up as an idea slowly starts to form in my brain. “Devon, what did you do?”

“I didn’t think this was going to happen. I didn’t expect her to, first of all, respond, and then, second of all, say yes. And this was before you and I spoke.”

Maya sees my face, even from a distance.

“Did Maya know about this? Did you pull her into this little transaction?”

“Maya? No. No, she didn’t know anything. I talked to Chloe, Claire, and Laurel about it, and Geo knows in theory. I talked to him about approaching her, but that’s all. None of us thought she would come.”

“Come?”

“Here. At eleven.”

I don’t know what to say. The last thing I want to do today is speak with some woman who delivered me twenty-two years ago. I’m not mad at her. I’m not bitter or resentful. I know she made the right decision, and I love my family. It’s for all those reasons that I don’t see the point.

I don’t need closure. There is no wound. And it hurts that my sisters think there is.

“I’ve promised this morning to Cory.”

Devon nods. “I know. That’s why I wanted to make sure you’d be back at The Inn by eleven.”

“I’m not going to promise anything, Devon. I need to think about this. You can’t just orchestrate this thing and expect me to buy in.”

“I know. And I told her on the phone that you had no idea. Jackson’s picking us up at the Portland Jetport.”

“Jesus—”

Devon puts up both hands to stop me. “She’s here for a three-day conference starting Monday. I think that’s why she said yes.”

I still don’t know what to say. I try to remember how all of this comes from a good place. A loving place. But shit. If the roles were reversed?

Then I stop. If the roles were reversed, I probably would’ve done the same thing.