“Me, too. Your head looks way better, by the way.” He motioned to where my cuts were just little pink lines on my forehead. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“Stop. You’ve told me at least twice a day since it happened. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Still. I grew up with Claire, and just thinking about what could have happened…” He shook his head.

“You grew up with Fin’s mom?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “There wasn’t a guy in school that wasn’t half in love with her, and I guess that didn’t change in college, seeing how Jax is still waiting around for her to come back. Guy hasn’t had a serious relationship since she left. Anyway, I’m really sorry it happened.”

Apparently, oversharing was a bad habit in every southern town.

“I’m just sad that the weathervane’s broken. Seems a shame to lose something that’s been with the house so long.”

“Even if it tried to murder you?”

“Well, stronger things have tried and failed.” I shrugged. “How about this monstrosity?” I pointed to the very large, very visible piling that now ran from the roof through the garage level and into the sand below. Granted, it was a great addition for anyone considering exotic dancing for a living, but I wasn’t a huge fan of the eyesore or the hole they’d ripped in every story of my house during installation. The five-thousand-dollar investment had been driven straight through the master bedroom, not that I’d even fathomed starting that chunk of the remodel.

“It set well, and— Oh, you’re talking cosmetics, aren’t you?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“We’ll hide it as well as we can once we start the interior portion of the remodel.” He flipped to the page I despised. “You’re already at a little over fifty thousand.”

Ouch. Not that I hadn’t known I was racking up the charges. I’d signed enough checks, but Lord, that was a punch to the belly—or, rather, the wallet.

“Okay, and that’s for the new roof, the foundations on both the house and the boathouse”—I gestured to the steel pole—“waterproofing the garage level…”

“As much as possible,” Steve repeated. “If that ocean comes up, there’s nothing we can do to keep the water out of that garage. The house is built for water to flow right under it. The boathouse is another story.”

“Right. I understand.” Nausea crept up my throat at the thought of Will’s truck being swallowed by flood waters. “And next?”

“All of the windows have been purchased. I have them stored. Also, the storm shutters and lumber for the new decks.”

“So where does that leave us?”