Chapter Wednesday, July 19th
Cass, can you give me a hand?”
I looked up from counting my tip money to see Bryony heading toward me, tray full of drinks in hand.
“Of course,” I said, tucking my cash into my turquoise apron, the one covered in tiny tridents. “What do you need?”
“Diet Coke,” she said, nodding toward the soda station.
“Got it.” I filled up a glass with ice and picked up the soda gun. I garnished it with a lemon wedge and a straw—this was all second nature by now.
Bryony and I had both gotten jobs at the Mermaid Café after all.
And despite the fact that waitressing was hard—my feet had never hurt this much in my life, and I had a faint scar on my hand from when I’d had a collision with a fellow waiter and a plate of very hot fajitas—we were also having a blast.
The other servers were a lot of fun, and Bryony and I had been able to get most of our shifts together.
Since we were still new to the restaurant, we didn’t have any of the best ones yet; we weren’t going to get a Friday or Saturday night shift unless someone called in sick.
Those were the prime tipping times, and not for the newbies.
So mostly, we had lunch shifts and brunch—I’d learned the hard way that nobody wanted brunch.
But I didn’t mind. I’d even started something called Brunch of Questions!
—which was a quiz brunch that had a few dedicated followers who came every week.
Greta and Nora had been instrumental in helping with the trivia.
The morning after Grad Nite, my dads and I had sat around the kitchen table in the house and had a big conversation—one that had been a long time coming. I explained how I wanted to stay in Harbor Cove, that I’d been moving too much, and I didn’t want to do it again before college.
And after a lot of discussion, we’d worked out a system.
The house still hadn’t sold yet, so three nights a week, one of my dads came down and stayed with me—they alternated, while the other one stayed behind in Oregon, keeping that renovation on track.
The other days, I usually stayed with Bryony.
Her parents were fine with it, and we loved it—it felt like an extended sleepover, especially since we got to hang out at work, too.
And because we would be going our separate ways in September, we were trying to soak up as much friend time as we could.
Bryony and Bruce were still going strong, despite the fact that they were long-distance.
She was saving up her tip money to fly up to Seattle to see him, and they’d been overjoyed to find out that they would both be going to University of Washington in the fall.
So, if it was a long-distance relationship now, that was only going to be a temporary condition.
As for me—it had taken me a while to get used to my non-loop life.
Even though it was what I had wanted, being back in the world without a net had been an adjustment.
I was now in touch regularly with Reagan and Zach, and Greta and Nora.
I wasn’t sure we would ever be close friends again, but every time one of them texted or popped up in my social media feeds, I was always happy to see them.
I had also stayed in touch with Alfie and Doug.
It seemed that Niall hadn’t taken kindly to how much better the band had been received with Freddie as lead singer.
He’d thrown a tantrum for the ages and gotten fired from Eton Mess.
Apparently, he was back in England. Alfie had gone back to Australia, and Doug had returned to Chicago.
He was playing in a band called Hot Beef and assured me it was good, even though the name made me have my doubts.
I hadn’t followed Freddie on social media, but I would occasionally look at his page—until it started hurting too much and I had to log off.
But I was thrilled to see that things seemed to be working out for him.
He’d left Eton Mess, signed a record deal, and was posting a lot of pictures in a recording studio in LA as he worked on his first album.
It was everything he’d wanted, and the fact that his dream had come true—and that I’d been able to help it happen—made me beyond thrilled.
And sometimes, when I would look at these pictures of him, I would feel sharply just how much I missed him and remember just how magical our connection had felt. And that was usually when I forced myself to set my phone down.
Now I placed the Diet Coke on Bryony’s tray. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” she said, giving me a grateful smile. “You’re done for the day?”
“Yeah, all my tables left. I’m just tipping out.” I nodded toward the corner of the restaurant, where one of our favorite regulars was in her normal spot. “Is she doing okay?”
Bryony nodded. “She’s great. She wants to talk to you about a problem she’s having with the middle, though.”
I grinned. “Happy to.” Like she knew we were talking about her, Ms. Mulaney glanced over at us and waved, and both Bryony and I waved back.
She’d revised her book, tweaked the ending, and had found an agent she really liked.
They were working on her manuscript together, and hopes were high that she’d sell it in the fall.
Ms. Mulaney had taken to coming into the café several times a week, always after the lunch rush, to work on the novel and drink a series of iced teas that she always over-tipped on.
“I’ll see you back at home?” I asked, as I untied the apron from my waist. This was one of the days I was staying with Bryony—we’d already decided we were going to get sushi for dinner.
She pulled out her phone, smiled at something she saw there, and then nodded. “Sure,” she said. “Sounds good. But before that, can you just go check on table nineteen?”
“Nineteen?” That table was on the patio and wasn’t even in my section—it was in Bryony’s.
“Yeah, can you just swing by, offer water and drop off a menu? It’s just one guest, and I’m a little slammed.”
“Of course,” I said, giving her a nod. “No problem.”
“Thanks,” she called, heading back into the dining room. “Have fun!”
“Have fun?” I echoed, confused, but Bryony was already out of earshot. Shaking my head, I grabbed several menus and headed out to the patio.
It was a pretty perfect late-afternoon day.
The sun was out but not shining in your eyes—it was breezy and warm but not too hot.
I headed over to nineteen, already putting on my professional smile as I reached the table.
“Hello, welcome to the Mermaid—” I started, then stopped short when I saw who was sitting there.
Freddie.
He looked a little bit different. He’d gotten a haircut, even though I was happy to see that the lock of hair was still falling over his forehead.
And his clothes were a little sharper, as though he’d gone through the rising-star-wardrobe upgrade.
But his expression was heartbreakingly familiar to me—excited and nervous and happy.
“Hi, Cass,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I was hoping we could talk?”
“But…” I looked over and saw Bryony standing in the doorway. She met my eye and gave me a smile. I shook my head, realizing that I’d been tricked—but finding it hard to be all that mad about it.
“So,” I said, as I pulled out the chair across from Freddie and sat down. “You and Bryony arranged this?”
Freddie nodded, giving me a smile. “I hope you don’t mind. We’ve been talking a bit.”
I blinked at that, surprised. “About what?”
“About you.” I took a breath to respond, but Freddie continued on.
“I’ve really missed you, Cass. And I know what you said was true—that I only knew you for a few hours.
But that’s enough sometimes, don’t you think?
To know that you like someone? Every time something good happens, you’re the first person I want to tell. ”
I looked down at the table to hide my smile—it felt like warmth was spreading through my chest. “Oh yeah?”
Freddie nodded. “Yeah. And I know that you had the whole list about me, and you told me how that wasn’t fair. So.” He reached down into the messenger bag at his feet and pulled out a piece of paper. I leaned forward and saw that Cass was written on the top of it.
“What is that?” I said, even as I felt like I knew.
“It’s your list,” he said, giving me a nervous smile.
“I filled it in with what I knew. About how kind you were to me. And how brave. And how you worked so hard to help me.” I looked down at the paper, then up at him.
“I feel like what’s on here is the real you—and that’s the most important stuff.
And all the rest of it is just details.”
I could feel my eyes fill with tears—but the happy kind. The kind you get when something overwhelmingly good happens.
“And so—if you’d be interested—I’d love to know everything else about you.”
I laughed at that, meeting Freddie’s eye across the table. All at once, I could see another way forward for us. Not where I knew everything about him and he didn’t know me, but a middle ground, where we could figure it out. Together.
“That sounds good,” I said, and I saw the look of relief pass over Freddie’s face.
“Really?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.
“Absolutely,” I said. I smiled and leaned across the table toward him. “I’ve got nothing but time.”