Cole.
He had surprised Jack and me by showing up for the ceremony. Apparently, the detox centre had permitted him to leave for a few hours.
“Thank you for inviting me,” he said. “Do you think I could take some pictures?”
“Of course,” I replied.
I could not help staring at him.
He looked completely different.
The man standing across the room barely resembled the version of him I remembered. His once long, tangled hair had been replaced with a clean mid-fade haircut that gave his face a sharper, more polished look. His beard was neatly trimmed, accentuating the strong line of his jaw and drawing attention to the quiet confidence in the way he carried himself. His blue eyes were clear and bright, like the ocean on a calm day.
He looked healthy.
Stronger.
More confident.
And irrefutably handsome.
I realized I had been staring longer than I should have, but for some reason, I couldn’t look away immediately. His face seemed familiar, as though I had seen him somewhere before. A faint sense of recognition tugged at the edges of my memory.
Perhaps at the hotel in Vancouver. Perhaps at a party.The thought flickered through my mind briefly before the rush of the opening pulled my attention away.
Inside, the transformation of the restaurant left everyone speechless.
A six-foot Christmas tree decorated in gold and red ornaments welcomed guests inside. The pool tables had been moved toward the front, where diners could enjoy the waterfront view. The old chairs had been reupholstered in rich teal fabric. Behind the bar, a beautiful mosaic backsplash displayed rows of neatly arranged bottles. Most of the décor had been salvaged, which helped keep costs down while preserving the character of the place. Red and midnight blue accents brightened the black-and-white theme of the restaurant. Recycled milk bottles hung from the ceiling as quirky light fixtures.The outside seating area had decorative resin panel lights clustered together to create a cozy, intimate, and romantic atmosphere.
I stood there for a moment, admiring the soft glow they cast over the enclosed patio. Since it was winter, Delia’s clever idea to enclose the outdoor area had made it possible for diners to still enjoy the space despite the cold. The panels could easily slide back into the hidden storage doors along the restaurant’s sides during the summer months, opening the entire area to the warm ocean breeze. I imagined the place months from now filled with sunlight and laughter, and the thought filled me with a sense of pride.
After thanking Delia, Marcus, and the rest of the team for all their hard work, Jack and I watched them gather their things and leave. The renovation crew had been here day and night for weeks, and seeing them walk away felt strangely emotional. The restaurant staff and I returned inside, standing together in the freshly renovated space as we waited eagerly for our first customers to walk through the door.
Marcus’s marketing strategy had been thorough and ambitious. Flyers had been distributed across nearby towns, online messages had circulated through social media, and advertisements had aired on both the radio and television. Because of that effort, people from different towns now knew that the Tipsy Cow was opening its doors.
The staff wore their brand-new white T-shirts with the Tipsy Cow logo printed proudly across the front, and their black aprons were tied neatly around their waists, matching the logo perfectly.
The tension in the room stretched tight, like a rope ready to snap, as we waited.
And waited.
I found myself staring at the door, silently willing someone to walk through it as unease took root deep within me. I wondered if all the work put in had been for nothing.
Then, just as my hope began to fade, the first customers walked in.
Relief rushed through me so strongly that I almost laughed out loud.
Before I even realized what was happening, more people began arriving. Within minutes, the tables filled up, the barstools were no longer vacant, and the restaurant buzzed with energy. The sound of conversations and laughter echoed through the room. University students claimed the pool tables almost immediately and began ordering drinks at the bar.
Standing there watching it all unfold felt surreal.
I noticed Cole moving through the restaurant with his camera, capturing moments from the grand opening. I was genuinely happy that he had come. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed several waitresses glancing at him repeatedly, their eyelashes fluttering as they tried to get his attention.
“Would you like something to drink?” one of the girls asked, touching his arm and smiling widely at him.
Cole politely declined and continued taking photographs.
After a couple of hours, he approached Jack and me, wished us luck, and said goodbye before leaving. I felt a small pang of disappointment because I had not had the chance to properly talk to him or spend time with him. The restaurant had been far too busy for that.
