I’d been dreading this conversation since I made the purchase.
“I’m notghosting,” I said quietly. “I’m talking to you about it this time around, aren’t I?” I hesitated. “Serena’s married, you’rehappy and successful, and I even think my mom’s doing better. It’s time for me to finally start dusting my future off.”
Georgie wiped her palms on her jeans, drawing a long breath before she pulled me into a hug.
“You don’t have to justify leaving—I… I get it now,” she murmured against my shoulder. “But, Margot, you can’t keep running every time something hurts. It’s like Serena said: real life is in the chaos.”
“I know,” I lied, patting her arm.
Georgie sniffed and pulled away, blinking rapidly. “Promise me you’ll come back for Christmas,” she said.
“I promise.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“This time I mean it,” I added with a small laugh.
We sat there for a few minutes, nursing our terrible coffee in silence, simmering in the heartache. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Deep down, I wanted to drive to the airport without bothering with a conversation—it felt cleaner. She didn’t deserve that, though. None of them did.
After tearing into the pancakes my mother slid in front of me, I asked, “Have you… seen Teddy this morning?”
She waved a hand. “He’s running around taking photos.”
“Taking photos?” I frowned. “He told me that he quit theTravel and Tasteassignment.”
Georgie hummed, blatantly eyeing my breakfast. “That doesn’t exactly mean he quit being aphotographer, Margot,” she muttered.
I sighed, finishing half my stack and pushing the plate to her. In true Georgie fashion, she licked her lips and drowned the remains in syrup, polishing it off in record time. I stared at the dregs in my mug with a scowl. Knowing her, we’d have a full day ahead of us—and if I planned to leave the next day, part of me wanted one last cappuccino from the Morning Bell.
“Wanna get some real coffee?” I muttered from the corner of my mouth.
Outside, the day had sharpened into a clearer picture of the Bluebell Cove people across the country came to visit. The fog burned off, revealing blue sky, puffs of clouds, and the kind of butter-yellow sunlight that only appeared in paintings.
Booths studded Harbor Street in neat rows, an army of shopkeepers and farmers working to set up their displays. Kids raced between them, sloshing apple cider every which way as they weaved between legs and hurtled toward the beach. The band warmed up on a platform at the corner of Main Street, the acoustic guitar echoing off the pastel storefronts.
For a moment, I just stood there and watched as the realization settled on my shoulders. This time reallywasdifferent—because I’d miss every square inch of this town.
“C’mon,” Georgie murmured and nudged me with her hip. “There’s a line out the door. Gotta get our fix and relieve Rhett of duty.”
We filed in at the end of the line, wrapped across the window. “What do you have him doing this time?” I asked.
“He’s setting up the pottery shop booth for me,” she replied with a grin.
I whistled as the line moved forward. “What did I say about hiring help, Miss Wheeler?”
“Hm, I believe the candidate I was considering just announced her move to New York,” she retorted. “Something about becoming a famous author.”
I rolled my eyes. We stood in the cafe threshold, a few yards away from the perfect cappuccino.
“So, who’s going to play me in the movie adaptation?” Georgie asked with a devious twinkle.
“Really?” I gave her a sidelong glance. “Someone’s recovered from the news fairly quickly.”
She pressed her hand to her heart with a dramatic flourish. “Why, thank you, Margot—it’s calledgrowth.”
Another stretch of silence as we finally entered the cafe.
“Are you sure you want to work the pottery booth today?” she asked. “You could take the day off, soak in your last hours of the Cove.”
