15. Ellie Hart
I barge into Naomi’s house, my spare key still in hand. She looks up at me from where she’s holding Archie in her lap. Some cartoon I don’t recognize is on the TV, and Archie is wide-eyed as he watches it.
“Why are you not dressed? Diane will be here in ten minutes,” I say and cross my arms over my lavender sundress. Molly, Naomi, and I are going out to Hammerhead Hank’s–a beachfront bar and grill on Wave Way–tonight so I put on my favorite dress and a pair of wedges that make my legs look much longer than they are.
“No, she won’t, because I canceled. I don’t feel like going out.”
“Yes, she will, because she called me and I told her I was coming right over to get you into a dress and out the door.”
“Ellie! You can’t do that. What if I didn’t want to pay her for tonight? What if I needed the money?”
I roll my eyes. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I paid her. Now hand me my nephew and go get dressed.”
“Why did you do that? I’ve told you a million times I don’t want you paying for things for us.” She doesn’t move from the couch. Instead she pulls Archie closer and scowls at me. “I’m not going, so you can get your money back from Diane. You’re supposed to be saving up for your shop anyway.”
Since Owen died, Naomi rarely leaves the house. And even though we both know she’ll enjoy tonight, she’s still going to put up a fight.
“The thirty bucks I had to force Diane to take from me is not a significant hit to my savings I can assure you,” I deadpan. “But if you don’t start getting ready, I will go on Amazon and buy every cute toddler item I see and give them to Archie to chew on so that they can’t be returned.” To anyone else, my threat is mild at best. But to Naomi, it’s the exact motivation she needs to get moving. She hates the idea of anyone spending money on her and Archie, but especially me since I’m saving to open my flower shop.
“Fine, but I’m not wearing a dress. I haven’t shaved my legs in a month.”
I shrug. “Suits me. You could show them off for all I care, so long as you get dressed.”
“You’re mean,” she huffs and deposits Archie in my arms.
“Love you too,” I say with a saccharine smile. She rolls her eyes and stomps off to her room. I shoot a quick text to Molly letting her know we might be late, then fall down on the couch with Archie in my lap.
After a few minutes of bouncing Archie while he babbles, Naomi comes out from her bedroom. I look up and gasp.
“You look stunning,” I say and she looks down at her outfit warily. She decided to wear a maxi dress instead of jeans. It’s a beautiful bright floral pattern that makes her look like a walking garden in the best way. She’s got on gold jewelry, and her hair is up in a messy high ponytail that she manages to make look chic.
“It’s not too much?”
“You look perfect, Naomi.” I hear a car pulling up in the drive. “Sounds like it’s time for us to go.”
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” she groans.
“Yes, I’m a terrible sister for taking you out to enjoy yourself for one night.” Sarcasm coats my words.
Diane knocks on the door before Naomi can respond. The next few minutes are a blur of Naomi giving Diane instructions and Diane assuring her that everything will be okay. Then Naomi takes five minutes to tell Archie goodbye, because he looked a little sad. Except he did not look sad at all. Since Diane feeds him whipped cream and gives him copious amounts of affection, I think he knows he’ll be well cared for tonight. It takes everything short of a crowbar to pry Naomi away, but I manage to get her out the door and into my car.
We make our way to Hank’s with the windows down and sunroof open. Naomi lets one of her hands float on the breeze, looking more relaxed already. I take a deep breath of ocean air and let it out in a long exhale. The past few days have been odd. I haven’t had much time around Miles. When he’s not training or in meetings, he’s hanging out with Shaw and Sutton. I’ve told myself several times that I don’t mind, but my heart doesn’t seem to be getting the memo.
After our night in Cape Alamanda, I thought we’d gotten closer. That maybe we could be friends, however odd of a pairing we make. But it was like as soon as Shaw and Sutton arrived, he retreated. It stung. I opened up to him about Owen and Naomi in a way that I haven’t with anyone other than Molly. And that vulnerability was repaid by him avoiding me.
I pull into the parking lot at Hank’s, and tell myself–once again–to stop thinking about Miles. If he wants to have a stilted work relationship, fine, he can have one. I’m only doing this to get the money for the shop anyway. Once I save up enough, I can quit and forget all about him and his smirking face.
“Are you ready for some fun?” I ask Naomi, trying to infuse some cheer in my tone. But between the whole Miles situation and the fact that I’m not the cheerleader type, it comes out monotone at best.
“I’m ready for a drink,” she says and I let out a surprised laugh.
“Me too, let’s go inside before Molly thinks we bailed on her.”
The closer we get to the bar, the louder it gets. Hank’s is an open air building, so you get an amazing view of the beach even while inside. There’s actually not really an inside. The only enclosed spaces are the kitchen and the bathrooms. The music is always loud and always beach-themed, whether it’s pop music or old country hits. If it has the word beach in it, Hank plays it. And his philosophy on decorating is much the same. There are shells everywhere, even hanging from the ceiling in the swaths of netting stapled up there along with some twinkle lights. Various photos of customers posing by the water are hung on the walls, along with signs that say things like no shoes, no shirt, come on in, and stay wild, ocean child.
It’s an interior design nightmare, but it’s a local staple and a place that never fails to make me smile as soon as I step foot on the scuffed and sandy wood floor. Just like I do tonight. Naomi breaks out into a grin as well, and we head toward where Molly has camped out at the bar, her sandals on one stool and her purse on the other to save our seats.
“You made it!” she cheers, raising a large curved glass with an umbrella poking out of the top. “I was worried there for a minute.”
“Sorry I held us up,” Naomi says. She hands Molly her shoes and dusts off the seat. “It’s not easy leaving Archie.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” Molly says with a smile. I hand over her purse and sit on the stool to her right.
“Was it too hard to save our seats?” I ask. Hank’s is busy this Saturday night, practically overflowing with locals and tourists alike. I’m not a fan of crowds, but the atmosphere is worth it. It helps that Hank also isn’t afraid to kick drunken jerks out of his bar if you tell him they’re bothering you. For some reason, guys think if they tell you they work in finance it’ll make you forget about the sour beer smell and lack of respect for personal space. It does not. So after I tell them that, Hank escorts them out because their egos usually can’t take the blow.
“I had to hiss at a few people, but I held my own.”
“Hiss?” I question and Naomi laughs.
“The weirder you are, the less questions people ask.” Molly shrugs and takes a sip of her drink out of a neon straw.
Hank–the owner and best bartender on the Gulf Coast–saunters over to us. With his backwards ball cap, weathered band tee, and salt-and-pepper beard, he looks every bit the dive bar owner he is.
“Well if it isn’t the two prettiest sisters in Coastal Cove,” he says in the gravelly tone I’ve come to know well.
“You flatter us, Hank,” I say and he grins.
“I just speak the truth. Now, what can I get you?”
“I’d love some of the best sangria in the world,” I say and his grin gets bigger.
“Now who’s flattering who?” He winks, then looks to Naomi. “What about you?”
“A rum and coke sounds delicious.”
“Coming right up.” He taps the bar, then points at Molly. “Do you need a refill yet or are you set, darlin’?”
“I’m good for now, but I’ll let you know,” she replies with an easy smile. He nods then heads off to make our drinks.
While we wait, Molly tells us a story about a customer who thought cold brew coffee had beer in it. Her reenactment is complete with voice changes. By the time Hank hands us our drinks, we’re laughing like we’ve had more than one already.
I take a sip of my sangria, relishing in the sweet fruity concoction. I really wasn’t lying when I told Hank it was the best in the world. I’ll need to be careful on how much I drink though, or else we might be walking home tonight. Not that it would take us more than ten minutes, but it wouldn’t be fun in my wedges–or barefoot, because that’s likely how I’d end up.
“I needed this,” Naomi says after a sip of her drink. I smile at her. I might not be able to change her circumstances, but providing her with a little relaxation feels good.
“Maybe we could try to make this a regular thing,” I suggest. While I’d rather spend all my time working toward my business, I know it would be good for all of us to have a break. Molly and Naomi both give noncommittal answers with a sprinkling of excuses, as I expected. Molly spends all her free time taking business classes online or looking for ways to improve Coastal Coffee so that the owners will want to pass it on to her. Then there’s Naomi, who is either working or taking care of Archie. It will take a lot to repeat this occasion, but seeing my sister and friend smiling like this is worth the work.
Molly starts to talk to Naomi about upgrading Coastal Coffee’s website, so I let my attention drift. People watching isn’t a habit of mine, but tourists do make for interesting entertainment at times. I’m watching a girl in a pineapple print dress hit on a guy who is clearly uninterested, when I see a familiar face coming in the door.
“Miles is here,” I say out loud, interrupting Naomi talking about the importance of brand colors.
“Who are all of those beautiful people with him?” Naomi asks and I feel a twinge of pain at her words.
“His caddy, Fitz, and Fitz’s wife Jada. Then his friends Sutton and Shaw who are engaged.” My eyes follow them as they move to a table, trained on Miles’ arm. Or rather the hand on his arm. A beautiful, tan, dark haired woman is next to him, smiling and giggling.
“And the model in the white dress?” Naomi questions. My grip on my glass tightens.
“I don’t know her,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Oooo I’ve never seen a jealous Ellie before. She scowls even more than regular Ellie,” Molly says.
I glare at her, but she only giggles. “I’m not jealous. What is there to be jealous of?” Besides her perfect hair, perfect tan, perfect everything. And the way she’s leaned against Miles as if she can’t sit up on her own.
“Not much to be jealous over, judging by Miles’ face.” Naomi laughs. “He looks like he’s having a root canal.”
I look over, this time ignoring the mystery woman and focusing on him. Even as far away as he is, it’s easy to tell all of his muscles are tensed. His mouth is set in a hard line. The woman next to him seems oblivious though. She flips her perfect hair over her shoulder while laughing, then touches his arm again.
It shouldn’t relax me to see him ignoring her, but it does. Or maybe that’s the sangria I drained while watching them. Hank brings over a pitcher of the red liquid, fruit swirling around in it. I nod at him and he fills my glass. I can feel Molly and Naomi watching me, but I pretend not to notice.
“You could go talk to him, you know,” Molly suggests.
I scrunch my nose.“Why would I do that? He’s my boss, and he’s on some kind of triple date. He doesn’t need me interrupting him.”
“It looks like he could use a way out of this,” she says.
“He’s a grown man, Molls. If he didn’t want to be on the date, he wouldn’t be. Maybe this is what he’s like on dates,” I say and drink some more.
“That’s not how he is with you,” Naomi says. Satisfaction drapes over me like a warm blanket fresh out of the drier.
“And we aren’t dating, so that makes sense,” I reply. Naomi gives me a look that says she sees right through me. I ignore it and turn my attention to stirring around the fruit in my glass.
“I think we’ve been spotted,” Molly says in a low voice. My head springs up, and my eyes lock on a familiar pair of green ones. Miles is walking right toward us.