“Mhm.” He leaned forward. “See, I was under the impression that we were friends.”
My stomach soured. “We are.”
“Friends don’t ignore friends for no reason.”
He drummed his fingers on the table, waiting. I had no words. How was I supposed to tell him that every time he smiled, I forgot how to breathe? That his dark-eyed, incisive looksmade me unravel? That, somehow, it seemed like Rhett Briggsunderstoodme better than anyone else?
“Georgie.” His voice softened. “I’m not trying to make this harder. I just want to help.”
Something in my chest twisted. He used the same tone I’d heard yesterday. ToClaire.
Rhett’s phone buzzed and his chin dipped. Thumb hovering over the screen, his expression began to harden.
“Everything okay?” I asked automatically, startled by the shift.
“Yeah.” He shoved the phone back in his pocket and shook his head. “My parents are… eager for me to get back home.” His words came clipped, like he’d carefully filed off any traces of emotion.
Home.The life waiting for him there—a career, a city, and someone named Claire—three thousand miles away, yet looming and shadowing my every thought of him. I had to remember I was just a blip on his radar. An unfortunate speedbump that he’d forget about the second his plane touched down in California.
Claire or no Claire, I didn’t have a place in his life.
Margot strode up to our table and saved me from searching for the right words.
“I put our orders in. Hope you like a burger,Everett.” She scooted into the banquette beside me, completely unaware that she wasn’t supposed to know his full name. Or, knowing Margot, she did it on purpose.
“Everett, huh? Word travels fast around here,” he responded, a smile in his voice as he stared at my profile.
I was too busy counting the number of cobblestones on the sidewalk outside.
???
“So, you really have no idea what the inside of Marigold’s looks like right now?” Rachel asked later that afternoon as we walked Easton along the beach.
“Maybe if I sneak in at midnight,” I muttered.
“Okay, that’s ridiculous. You can’t just keep avoiding him.”
Easton barreled into the surf, drenching the bottom half of my jeans. I couldn’t help but laugh as he flailed around in the shallow. Swathes of watercolor clouds streaking the sky reflected cotton candy on the sparkling horizon beside us. The encroaching evening blew a crisp gust across the water, the occasional loose curl tickling my face.
Still, something sharp and restless pulled at the corners of my mind.
Rachel dragged her toes through the sand, sweater cinched around her while the wind whipped locks of scarlet hair.
“I’m notavoidinghim,” I finally answered, grimacing as Easton shook a spray of saltwater at both of us. “He’s under contract. It’s abusinessrelationship. There’s no need for us to be around each other more than necessary.”
“Ah, yes. A completely normal thing for you to say,” Rachel returned sarcastically. “We should head back, it’s about to get dark—and I need to feed Steve and Chicken.”
I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get used to Rachel’s names for her cats.
We were silent for a while longer as we trudged through the sand. She hummed quietly to herself before speaking again. “You know, it’s okay to admit that you like him.”
Her gentle words landed like a stone in my stomach. “I know,” I whispered, unsure if I believed it. “But it doesn’t matter.”
Shoving on our sandals once we reached Harbor Street, Rachel graciously changed the subject to the cafe’s open mic nights. We crossed to an emptied Main Street just as the lampposts flicked on. The sky above us darkened to a shade of lilac. The only shop still open was Captain’s, where orange light poured out onto the street and the buzz of chatter could be heard through the windows.
Everything looked exactly as it always had.
Except one thing.
