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“You’re going to work your last hour in paradise?”
I laugh. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here.”
We serve the first round of customers, peering at flights to the US in between orders.
Gabe chooses one to Georgia in two days. “I’ll see if anyone wants to run the hut. Otherwise, I’ll shutter it.”
“Who do you trust?”
“Morrie might do it. He’s forever trying to get DJ gigs, so this will at least be steady work.”
“Can he mix drinks?”
Gabe huffs a laugh. “No.”
Lila texts me. She’s waiting in the parking lot.
I nuzzle his cheek, drinking in the smell and texture of him. These are the parts I won’t get once I’m gone. Only his voice, and maybe a video chat. “I have to go. I will see you at the airport in Georgia in two days. Okay?”
“Yes. And you can show me your town.”
“We can find your mother.”
He nods again, his eyes closed as if the thought of it is painful.
“I’m going to be with you,” I say. “I don’t know much about moms, but if she’s no good, I’m ready to throw down.”
He laughs. “I’m glad you’re on my team.”
I kiss him again, our lips careful and lingering, but not too crazy in front of the customers. Then I open the back counter, hop over my message to him in the sand, and race to the front of the condo complex.
My heart is light. Gabe is coming to Georgia.
We’re going to figure everything out.
There’s no telling how this will work in the end, but I don’t have to give him up.
Not now. Not yet.
Chapter 28
GABE
Everyone shows up at the airport. Mendo, Anya, Morrie, Mom. They’re all going to pitch in at the bar while I’m gone, even if they have to cut the options down to beer and basics. It’s not a long-term solution, but for the week I’m in the States, it will have to do.
“Good luck, brother,” Mendo says, clapping my back. “Bring me back some killer kicks.”
Anya’s next. “I want some real jeans. I’ll send you links. Bell-bottoms. By the time I could order them, I’d have to wait another thirty years for them to be in style.”
Morrie bumps my fist. “I’ll try not to run your bar into the ground.”
“I’ll watch over them,” Mom says. “This old lady can still wink at the cute tourists of a certain age.”
Anya bumps her hip. “Gabe-Mama, we’re going to rock that hut. The tourists won’t know what hit them. Bring some candles.”
Mom’s face lights up. “I’ll make one that saysFuck bad tippers.”
Anya snaps her fingers in the air. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” She and Morrie twirl in circles, Anya having a good time, and Morrie uncomfortably looking around to see who might be watching.
