Aiden sank onto the edge of his bed, releasing a long sigh. “Well said.”

“It’s taken me a lot of years to believe it. I wish I’d been more proactive about helping you through it too. Maybe if I’d gotten you counseling as a kid . . .”

“Don’t blame yourself, Dad. I’m an adult now—it’s my responsibility. I’ll give some thought to what you said, though.” He paused, hoping he wasn’t overstepping. “And it’s not too late for you either, you know. You’re not exactly over the hill. I’ll bet there’s a woman out there for you too. You deserve to have someone special.”

“Funny you should mention that.” There was a grin in his dad’s voice. “You remember Gayle Winters from church?”

Aiden pictured the pretty middle-aged brunette who’d been head of the children’s department for years. “Yeah . . .”

His dad gave a self-conscious chuckle. “Looks like your old dad’s finally got a date.”

chapter forty

Sophie set down the cleaning supplies and surveyed the space that would soon be her apartment. After her long, crazy hours this week, she wished she could take the afternoon off. But she had to whip this place into shape quickly; she only had use of the beach house for one more week.

Once the upstairs of a home, her new apartment consisted of three bedrooms and a bath, all having the same wood floors they’d refurbished downstairs. The two largest bedrooms would become her living room and kitchen, and the smallest would be her bedroom.

The kitchen was going to take time and money. For now she’d make do with a microwave, hot plate, and coffeemaker, all of which she had in storage back home. The bathtub and commode were rust stained and disgusting; they’d have to go. The dingy white walls would have to wait.

For now the place needed a good cleaning, and with all the garbage and dust bunnies, she had her work cut out for her.

She slid on rubber gloves and got to work, starting with a good sweeping. She stifled a yawn. She hadn’t slept well this week. She’d been rehashing Monday’s argument with Aiden. He’d accused her of coddling her siblings—and he’d been right. She’d accused him of running at the first sign of trouble—and she’d been right.

But what good did being right do when it only drove them apart? His words had made her angry, and she responded by dredging up his past. Last week he’d opened up about his mother’s abandonment, and in a moment of anger she used it against him. Shame crawled over her, flushing her face with heat.