“And that made it easier to talk to her? Someone you barely knew, rather than someone you’ve known most of your adult life?”

“You don’t think that makes sense? I didn’t want you to know what was happening until I knew what was happening. I didn’t want it to change how you saw me.”

“You are a stubborn, prideful idiot, Finn Roberts.”

I adjust my hat on my head. “I’ve heard that before.”

“So what I’m hearing is, you left when you found out Harlow was doing basically the same thing.”

I pull my brows together, not understanding.

“She didn’t want to talk about her mother with you, you didn’t want to talk about your boat problems with us. You both wanted to keep things separate.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. Realization sinks in. He thinks I split town because Harlow didn’t tell me about her mother. Jesus. Do I really come off as that callous? “I didn’t leave town because Harlow didn’t tell me about her mom, Oliver. For fuck’s sake. That stung because of my mom, and because I told Harlow everything about my problems, and the night before we’d basically confessed our undying love. But if that was the only thing that happened I wouldn’t have just bailed.”

“Okay, clearly there is a lot more going on, and Harlow is just as tight-lipped as you are.”

I rub a hand over my eyes. “I left town because I had to get back here. And...” I pause, looking up at him. “I left town because I was pissed at Harlow for trying to find a way to save my business without talking to me.”

Oliver pulls back, shaking his head to tell me he doesn’t understand. “What?”

I explain to him how Harlow approached Salvatore Marìn without talking to me first. How she discussed details about my life that weren’t hers to share. How she offered something—access to my boats for months—when she wasn’t even sure I could deliver.

“So she didn’t tell you because she wasn’t sure it would work out, right?” Oliver asks, and his voice is gentle and curious as if he simply wants to know, but I can feel his laser-sharp point lurking just behind. “She didn’t want to share it with you before it was a real possibility?”

“Yeah,” I say, wary. “That’s probably what she’d say.”

“Just like you didn’t want to tell us about what was happening with the television show before it was a real possibility?”

I see the point he’s making, but it just doesn’t add up. “Oliver, the whole situation is messed up. Yes, I should have told you out of courtesy because you’re my friend. But Harlow should have told me out of necessity because it’s my fucking livelihood. These two aren’t the same.”