3. Cole
cole
. . .
I stand on a ladder, hammer in hand, working on the final piece of crown molding for Mrs. Hendrickson's primary bedroom. Just then, Fox thinks it's the perfect moment to ask me about my love life.
"So," he says, holding the end of the molding steady, "who are you taking to Rowan's wedding?"
I focus on the nail, tapping it carefully into place. "My cousin Ellie. She's visiting from Seattle that weekend."
Fox's silence is judgmental enough that I have to look down at him. He's wearing that expression—the one that makes me want to drop my hammer on his foot accidentally.
"Your cousin," he repeats flatly. "You're taking your cousin to a wedding."
"She's never been to Cedar Bay before," I defend, turning back to the molding. "Besides, it's not like I need a date. I know everyone who'll be there."
"That's pathetic, man. Even for you."
I drive another nail with more force than necessary. "What's pathetic about spending time with family?"
"The part where you're thirty-two and using a relative as a shield so you don't have to actually date someone." Fox hands me another nail. "When was the last time you went on a real date? One that didn't end with you boring some poor woman to tears talking about Mabel?"
"I don't talk about Mabel on dates," I lie, knowing full well I mentioned her twice during coffee with Sarah from the bank last month.
"Right." Fox's tone drips with sarcasm. "Just like you don't keep checking your phone whenever someone from the Portland area code calls."
I climb down the ladder, wiping dust from my hands onto my jeans. "I'm just tired of the whole dating scene. Everyone in this town either wants to get married tomorrow or is already divorced and bitter about it."
"So bring someone new. Weddings are perfect for hooking up." Fox grins, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Remember Tobias's sister's wedding? That bridesmaid from?—"
"I'm not looking to hook up," I interrupt, packing tools back into my belt. "And taking someone to a wedding sends the wrong message. It's like saying, 'Hey, want to watch two people commit their lives to each other and then consider if we should do that too?'"
Fox stares at me like I've grown a second head. "It's just a party with free booze and cake."
"To you, maybe." I move the ladder to the next section of the wall. "Anyway, Ellie's excited about it. She's a house flipper, so she'll appreciate all the work we've done on the Lighthouse Inn."
"Your loss." Fox shrugs, handing me more nails. "Rowan's inviting half the single women in the county. Including that new physical therapist with the?—"
"I'm good," I cut him off again. "Hand me that level, would you?"
Fox tosses it up. "You know, sooner or later, you're going to have to admit that Mabel's not coming back."
The level nearly slips from my grip. Even after all these years, hearing Mabel's name out loud feels like pressing on a bruise. "This has nothing to do with her."
"Everything you do has to do with Mabel," Fox's voice softens slightly. "It's been what, thirteen years since the break-up? She's probably married with 2.5 kids and a golden retriever by now."
I focus on the bubble in the level, making minute adjustments to the molding. "I don't think about her anymore."
This lie is so transparent that Fox doesn't even bother calling me on it. Instead, he sighs and says, "She may come to the wedding. Mabel and Rowan are first cousins."
The hammer freezes mid-swing. "What? No way. Rowan already told me she never replied to the invite."
“That’s not what I heard.”
My heart is suddenly pounding so hard I can feel it in my fingertips. "Mabel wouldn't come back for a wedding. She hasn't even been home for Thanksgiving in years. She hates Cedar Bay.."
"Maybe." Fox shrugs. "But if she does show up, you might want an actual date instead of your cousin. Just saying."
I hammer the nail with more force than necessary, sending it deep into the wood in one stroke. "Mabel Maxwell doesn't care who I bring to a wedding."
"Right." Fox's tone makes it clear he doesn't believe me. "Just like you don't care if she shows up."
I climb down from the ladder again, needing to move, to do something, with the nervous energy suddenly coursing through me. "We should finish the bathroom fixtures before lunch."
Fox allows the subject to change, but his knowing smirk follows me down the hallway. The idea of Mabel returning to Cedar Bay—of seeing her again after all these years—makes my stomach twist in ways I haven't felt since I was eighteen.
It's ridiculous. I'm a grown man who runs his own business, who's built a life here. I shouldn't be affected by the mere possibility of running into my high school girlfriend.
But as I mechanically install the bathroom sink, my mind betrays me with questions: What does she look like now? Is she still as driven, as brilliant, as stubborn? Did she become the hotshot lawyer she always wanted to be? Is there someone in her life who makes her laugh the way I used to?
Does she ever think of me at all?
By lunchtime, I've convinced myself it doesn't matter. Mabel won't come. She's made it clear over the years that Cedar Bay is her past, not her present. And even if she did show up, we're different people now, whatever we had died a long time ago, buried under years of silence and separate lives.
But as Fox and I pack up our tools for lunch, my phone buzzes with a text from Rowan:
Just got Mabel's RSVP. She's coming. I thought you should know.
The wrench slips from my hand and clatters to the floor.
"Everything okay?" Fox asks, but I can tell from his expression he already knows.
I stare at the screen, reading the message three more times as if the words might change. "She's coming to the wedding."
"Shit." Fox runs a hand through his hair. "You want to call Ellie and tell her plans changed?"
"No." The word comes out sharper than I intended. "I'm not scrambling to find a date just because my ex is going to be there. That would be pathetic."
Fox raises an eyebrow. "More pathetic than bringing your cousin?"
I pocket my phone and head for the door. "I need air."
Outside, the October breeze carries the scent of salt and dying leaves.
I lean against my truck, trying to process the fact that in two weeks, Mabel Maxwell will be back in Cedar Bay.
The same woman who swore she'd never return, who couldn't wait to shake the dust of this town off her designer heels.
"You know what this means, right?" Fox joins me, unwrapping his sandwich. "This is your chance."
"My chance for what? To embarrass myself in front of everyone we went to high school with?"
"Your chance to get closure. To see if there's still something there, or if you can finally move on." He takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Either way, you'll know."
The problem is, I don't want to know. For thirteen years, I've lived with the possibility that maybe—just maybe—we could find our way back to each other someday.
It's a fantasy I've never admitted to anyone, barely admitted to myself.
But it's kept me from fully committing to anyone else, from building something real with someone who wants to be here.
"What if she's married?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
"Then you'll know it's really over, and you can stop waiting for someone who's never coming back."
Fox is right, but it doesn't make the prospect any less terrifying. I've spent so long imagining what I'd say to Mabel if I saw her again, how I'd prove I've become the man she thought I could never be. Now, I might get that chance, and I have no idea if I'm ready for it.
My phone buzzes again. Another text from Rowan:
Also, she's not married. I thought you'd want to know that, too.
This time, I manage to keep hold of my tools, but just barely.
Fox must see something on my face because he stops mid-chew. "What now?"
"She's not married." The words feel strange in my mouth as if I'm speaking a foreign language.
"Well, hell." Fox sets down his sandwich. "That changes things."
Does it? I'm not sure anything really changes. Mabel left for a reason—multiple reasons. She wanted bigger things than Cedar Bay could offer, and I wasn't willing to follow her to get them. The fact that she's still single doesn't erase thirteen years of different choices and different lives.
If only I have to convince my heart that I’ve moved on before next week.