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“And a job here is better than being destitute in the big city. Any luck selling the bar?"
"Nope."
"You should just open a frickin’ bakery in your dad’s old bar!”
I laughed bitterly. “It’s a terrible idea for so many reasons.”
“It’s not. It’s actually kind of . . . romantic."
"Everything’s romantic to you, Lil," I groaned. "But I can barely bake a loaf, let alone run a bakery. I didn’t get into pastry school, remember? So why would I be good enough to run my own place? I don't know the first thing about how to operate a business, either. I’d need to go to business school first. And I don't want to live in the same town as Cole.” I paused for breath. “Anyway, my dream is to run a patisserie—serving high-class desserts—in New York City. No offense, but I think if I came back to Bluehaven Beach to serve basic pies to country folk all day, I’d go out of my mind!"
" Okay, FYI, I’m only not taking offense to that because I’m the nicest person on the planet, and because I know you’re going through some stuff right now. But seriously, I think it could be a good life for you. The people here are nice! They might not go to the opera every weekend, or whatever the people in New York do, but they care."
I sighed. "Cole doesn't."
"What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t care,” I said quietly. “About me.”
Lily huffed. “Oh, Elara, you infuriating goddess! Of course he freaking cares! If you can’t see that, then you’re not looking hard enough! The problem, my love, is that you’ve lost your confidence. That snooty pastry school made you feel like you weren’t good enough, and it’s just not true.”
I watched rain track down the windowpane for quite some time, lost in thought. "I don't know what a good life looks like, Lily," I said at last.
"Come to Bluehaven Beach and I’ll remind you,” Lily said. “In fact, come to the council meeting and you’ll see what kind of town this is. And then you can decide how you feel about small town folk."
Oh god, the damn council meeting. I had read an email about that. I really didn't want to go, but I felt a responsibility. After being the jerk who had considered taking the offer from 7-Eleven, I wanted to add my signature in support of the charter.
"All right,” I said sulkily. “I’ll go to the stinky old meeting. It’ll give Helen a break from me if nothing else. And you and I are going to drink a ton of wine after the meeting. But I’m coming straight back to New York when we’re done.”
"Mwahaha," she gurgled. "I win this round! Look, I’d better go. I have a customer.” She lower her voice to a whisper: “Bet you she’s looking for something super steamy. You wouldn’t believe how many of the octegenarians in this town come in here for reverse harem.” She paused, then spoke at normal volume again. “Stay in touch, okay? And remember, you always have a home in Bluehaven Beach."
As she put the phone down, her final words rang in my ears.
Maybe there was one more option open to me. One more way to leverage my assets which might let me stay in New York for a little while longer. But I was scared to do it. For the millionth time, I thought about texting Cole. And for the millionth time, I didn't.
Instead, I found Jenna’s number.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Cole
"Feels like the beginning of the end, doesn't it?"
Dad’s voice startled me. I turned around to look at him, standing in the doorway, with a big smile on his face.
I wiped the sweat from my brow, forearms streaked with dry plaster. "Pretty morbid, Dad."
"I mean the plastering. It's only at the end of a project like this that everything comes together, eh?"
"Yep. Just when things are looking their worst. Amazing what a bit of plaster can do." I scraped my trowel over the hawk, loading it again, then dragged it up from the bottom of the drywall.
"You're good at that," Dad said, taking a swig of coffee.
"Well, it's my job.”
"Better than me. You're a real artist."
I snorted. "Whatever you say, Dad."
