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"When did you get back?" I'll fill the awkward silence with a lot of questions, I guess. It's as if I've never talked with a guy before.
"Two days ago. Found out this morning that you were back, too. I think it's the first time we've both been on the island at the same time since graduation. Every time I come home, I ask around to see if you're here. And you? Thought you'd settled in Chicago?" He finishes his drink, and I uncap the bottle and pour him another splash.
"Sort of. I was actually getting ready to join my bestie in Europe when Mom got her diagnosis. My friend's one of those Instagram influencers. The kind that takes gorgeous photos in bikinis."
He grins. "You're putting photos of yourself in a bikini on Instagram? How did I not know this?"
"No, she's on Instagram. You won't catch me dead in a bikini on social media."
"But you do wear bikinis still?" He licks his lips.
I'm a goner. My cheeks flare with heat. "Pfft. Of course I do."
He chuckles. "So you were going to Europe with your friend..."
"Yeah. I was planning to be her assistant-marketer-Instagram husband, while doing some freelance graphic design work."
"Instagram husband?" His right eyebrow quirks up. "Guess I'm not familiar with that term."
I giggle, relieved that we're talking about something less weighty than illness and my doomed career. "That's the person who takes the photos of the Insta star. Usually it's a guy. A husband. But my friend's single, so we joke that I'm her Insta husband. I help her arrange the photos, the props, the lighting. She was hoping that I'd want to start my own account, too. But I'm pretty shy about that stuff."
He winces. "I don't do any of that social media shit. I didn't realize there was so much involved."
"So I've noticed. I tried to find you, but couldn't."
He waves a big hand in the air. "Security reasons. Don't take it personally. Wait, you tried to find me online?"
I bat my eyelashes. "I confess. Yes."
That boyish grin of his makes my stomach flutter.
He studies me for a beat. "And so you came home for your mom, instead of being Insta famous. Then you ended up running the bar and designing birthday invites for the waitress and probably taking in a stray kitten or two." He says it as a statement.
"Hey! I haven't taken in a kitten." I pause. "I am putting out food for a couple of the neighborhood strays, though."
He beams. "See? That's so like Kate Cooper. Always caring for others and not herself."
"Come on." I smirk.
"It's true. You always had this innate ability for nurturing. Like when you made those kindness cards in tenth grade."
I roll my eyes. I can't believe he remembers the cards I'd designed with insipid inspirational sayings. That was back when I believed in crap like that. "That was a class design project."
"I've never forgotten those. They were beautiful, and it was the first time I'd seen your artistic talent. It was after that school bomb threat, and the graphics teacher assigned us to do something positive. Most kids did a basic graphic in Photoshop and changed their Facebook profile photos. You took the time to illustrate the cards and print them and everything. They were great."
"Yeah, and everyone made fun of me. Then they scrawled profanities on the cards and stuck them in my locker. We went to school with some mean kids."
He makes a face. "Anyway, let's not talk about the past. When did you get back?"
"Returned a month ago, right before Mom had her surgery. Now I'm basically running the tiki bar. Dunno what the future holds."
"Do any of us?"
"Heck, no." We clink glasses, and I take a sip. "That's something we can drink to."
As I swallow the brown liquid, my eyes sweep over the bar's tired and familiar décor. It's best described as mid-century-modern beach kitsch. There are hula girl statues and framed, black and white photos of Elvis in Florida. On one wall, patrons have tacked up drunken crayon drawings of Pete, the island's famous alligator. In the summer, the dry palm fronds on the roof make the most soothing rustling noise in the wind.
"Imagine. Me, running Lime and Salt, Paradise Beach's most famous watering hole. Who would've thought?" I wave a hand around the bar.
