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CHAPTER TEN
Clua Town is, I can’t even put it into words. Pristine? Pretty? Filled with quaint statues and monuments and strewn with timeless old buildings and modern, but perfectly fitting new builds. Like the coffee shop I’m sitting in. It’s got the Clua-style terracotta roofs and white walls, but the sleek lines of the interior and shabby chic whitewashed bar are definitely modern.
Clua Coffee’s. Branches in Fern Bay, Tenting, and here in Clua Town.
I turn the little card to look at the back. The design on it is the same as the one on the cardboard take-out cup Sonnie brought me the morning after that first night. Who would have guessed this would be the outcome? Something an awful lot like swooning swoops in my chest. Last night was crazy. This morning was insane. We didn’t talk. Didn’t even kiss. And there was no more distraction sex. We just—I don’t know—were. It was sad. And exhilarating. And petrifying. And possibly a really huge mistake. I should have told him who I am—was—where I come from.
But then what? What good would come of it? We have an end date.
Taking a sip from my iced coffee, I tuck the card into my purse and pick up my cell to click on another video of Clua’s Summer Festival online in an attempt to think of something else.
Anythingelse. I force my eyes to focus on my cell.
One thing is clear. This little island has a whole heap of history and really cool local traditions.
What must be the traditional Cluan dance act from last year’s festival fills the little screen. Men dressed in nothing but loose black pants with heavy drums held up by a leather strap over their chest slam their hands over the stretched tight black skins that top their instruments in a mesmerizing rhythm. Women in flowing, embroidered, floor-length black skirts that fan out with every perfectly timed spin, move their arms in elegant flamenco-type arcs. My tummy squeezes at the thought of witnessing something so completely different to anything I’ve ever seen.
This festival is a big deal. And Sonnie is playing in it. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a teeny bit jealous. He must have won that competition Jo was talking about.
Before it’s finished, the video cuts out for an incoming video chat.
Nina.
I swipe my finger across the screen, relief so acute it almost makes my eyes water and all thoughts of Sonnie evaporate. She’s stayed stubbornly silent since I reminded her that I wouldn’t be sticking around after the summer.
“Nina.” I smile when her side of the video starts up.
Hair in a ponytail and eyes devoid of their usual lining of black, she holds up her hand. “Stan, before you say anything, we need to get a few things straight.”
My smile falls at the lack of warmth in her voice. “Okay.”
“Mom’s giving me until the end of summer. By then I’ll be moving into the dorms of Baltimore Music Academy, and I’ll be nobody’s problem but my own. I’ve got a couple of weeks to get this perfect. Get me through this and I won’t bother you again.”
“Nina, you’re not—”
“It’s fine. I get it.” She presses her lips together and stares me out with zero emotion in her usually easily read eyes, but there’s no disguising the slight tremble of her chin. “Tomorrow at nine?”
I nod, stunned by how much this kills.
“Laters.”
I spin my cell between my fingers and fight the urge to throw it across the busy shaded terrace of painted white iron tables and chairs. This is exactly why I don’t get involved and I don’t fucking stay around. Jumbled thoughts and feelings spin my head until I have to close my eyes to stop them from popping under the pressure.
“You look like you’re in need of a hug, or a face to punch.”
I glance up as Laia plonks an empty plastic container on the table. “That obvious?”
“No. Maybe. Yes. I’m down for a hug. Face punch, not so much.” She raises her eyebrows in the direction of the empty chair opposite me. “You mind?”
“Not at all.” I stand to pull the heavy chair out for her, and she maneuvers her impressive bump around to lower herself down until she’s sitting. “My swollen toes thank you.” She stares longingly at my half-finished glass of coffee. “Smells heavenly.”
“Want one?” I twist to flag down a passing waitress.
“No, no, caffeine is no longer my friend.” She pouts out her bottom lip. “It’s sad. We used to be so close.”
“Juice? Water? Tea?” I offer as I lower my waitress waving hand.
“No, I was just passing through to leave some pies ... and you looked lonely, soooo...” She shrugs a shoulder, and the strap of her green, floral sun dress slips down her arm. “I’ve been there—alone, I mean. I’ve been alone before.” A sadness I wasn’t expecting creeps over her face. “I know we don’t know each other like atall, but I’m here—you know—if you need someone to be here.”
