Chapter 1 #2
Something stirs in my lower belly when he says this. I swallow and brush it off quickly, trying to be casual. “Maybe Marco’s to split a pizza, then take a walk down by the harbor. And get some ice cream at The Dairy Witch. That’s what I’d choose.”
“Hmm, that’s a good idea. Is that where you’re going?” he asks with a smirk.
“As a matter of fact, it is,” I say. “Are you going to copy my date?”
“Maybe. Sounds pretty great, actually.”
Mack brings out our burgers and a mountain of fries on a tray to share with various dips that we like.
A cheese cup, garlic aioli sauce, and ketchup.
We like variety. We fall into our usual and familiar rhythm that has always been there.
Finn tells me about the floors he’s restoring at his new house that he bought from our childhood friend, Tate.
He bought it last fall and is fixing it up, and he’s so excited about it.
He asks me for my opinion on everything, but he hardly needs it.
He talks about the mudroom, the built-ins he’s restoring like other men talk about their favorite sports teams. It’s exciting to see Finn’s house coming together.
It’s a big old home on Main Street just down the road from my apothecary shop, Salt & Root.
He’s also been helping me with my shop I got up and going last winter, but I haven’t been able to get the permit from the mayor’s office to run my yoga studio on the top floor.
That’s the last piece I’ve been waiting on, and I’ve been waiting for months for city hall to approve.
I took a break for a while from teaching yoga during the winter to get Salt & Root up and going, but now I’m ready to do classes again.
I was teaching classes three nights a week at the community center, but they said that Marilyn and Vanessa have been teaching Pilates classes in my class spots now and there’s no room for me to teach mine.
Which makes no sense because I get texts, emails, and people stopping by every week asking me when I’m going to resume classes again.
My studio above Salt & Root is completely ready.
I have all new mats, blocks, straps, and it’s beautiful up there with freshly sanded and stained wood floors.
Honestly, a dream space to practice yoga with bright sunlight, plants, and it’s so calming up there.
Just need that stupid business permit from the city that honestly makes no sense that I even have to have in the first place.
Seems like a giant hoax to me. Vanessa and Marilyn both work for city hall and I suspect that they are keeping me from being able to open my studio. For reasons that I don’t understand.
“Thanks for reinforcing the shelves in the shop, by the way,” I say after the conversation moves from his house to my shop. “Now I don’t have to worry about coming into a giant mess of herbs and glass now.”
He waves me off. “No problem. I’ll build you whatever you need.”
My stomach flutters and I chase it with a sip of beer. That is just Finn, and he’s always saying things like that. He’s my best friend, I remind myself. Best friends help each other. That’s all this is.
“Well, you did pretty much do everything in the shop,” I say as I lean in and bump his shoulder with mine.
He reaches over, and our forearms touch as he drags a fry through the cheese sauce and eats it. His eyes are happy, with wrinkles at the corners, as he grins at me in return.
We start a roast session on each other over the dating app because I need to laugh about my non-existent love life.
And Finn and I have the most epic roasts.
Our banter back and forth is one of my favorite things to do.
He’s funny and always down to call me on my shit when needed.
He’s one of the few people I can be myself around.
Finn scoots closer to see my screen. Our shoulders touch and heat curls low in my stomach at his warmth. And he smells so good, too.
I swipe to a bio that reads: Looking for my forever fishing partner.
Finn groans. “That’s every guy in Wisteria Cove.”
Another proudly calls himself The Crypto King.
I deadpan, “Oh yes. Nothing says romance like fake money and zippered hoodies. All he needs is a thick gold chain around his neck.”
“Oh, he has one!” Finn says excitedly, pointing to the next picture and throwing his head back and laughing.
“Oh my gosh.” I groan and laugh.
“Swipe left. Now,” Finn instructs, jabbing a finger at my phone.
Mack wanders back just in time to witness our chaos and lifts a brow. “If you two spent half as much time flirting with each other as you do with chasing these poor souls on an app, you wouldn’t have to worry about swiping.”
“Go away, Mack,” I tell him, but I’m smiling. Mack loves to give us shit.
The door swings open and in saunters Marilyn and Vanessa, aka the mean girls of Wisteria Cove, wearing matching leggings, crop tops, and ponytails. Of course, they spot us and Vanessa leans toward Marilyn and says loud enough for the entire bar to hear, “Still no permit for the witch.”
I set my burger down with care. My smile goes flat and sharp.
“Hey, Marilyn and Vanessa,” I call sweetly to them and am met with glares.
Finn’s jaw tightens. He keeps his voice gentle as he practically growls, “Rowan.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him and keep my eyes on the two of them. “How’s your Pilates studio coming along? I can’t wait to see it.”
Killing them with kindness. That’s what I tell myself as I stand there smiling like the calm, collected business owner I’m trying so hard to be. On the outside, I’m polite. Pleasant. The picture of someone who believes in community collaboration.
On the inside, I’m two seconds from throwing my beer all over their stupid designer leisurewear and watching it soak into their matching handbags. I can practically hear myself saying, “Acting like Grade-A bitches at forty is embarrassing. It was pathetic in high school too, sweethearts.”
I smile though, teeth gritted together so I don’t voice what I really want to say. My jaw hurts from the effort, but I do it. I remind myself that I’m running a business now, not casting curses behind the bleachers. I remind myself that losing my temper gives them exactly what they want.
When I’m with Finn, the restraint drops. With him, I don’t have to pretend. I can say what I actually think. And what I think is that if they push me much harder, I’m not above putting them in their places.
He doesn’t even flinch. He knows this version of me and he likes her. He’s the only one I let see her without apology.
Marilyn gives me a thin fake smile. “We’re trying to create a welcoming environment.”
“Same,” I say sweetly. “Minus the mean-girl soundtrack that you two are playing on a loop. I don’t know if you know this, but there can be more than one fitness studio in town.”
Okay, so maybe I can’t completely bite my tongue. Oops.
They huff and drift away. Finn shifts, narrowing his gaze.
“I really don’t like those two,” Finn mutters as he pushes his empty plate away.
“You and me both,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m convinced they’re in on it with Mayor Sammy Briggs about holding up my permit. I can’t prove it, but I’m pretty sure they’re sabotaging me.”
“If I find out they are…” Finn bites out, shoulders tense as he trails off, letting me fill in the blanks of his warning.
“They probably are,” I tell him. “I just have to do my thing. Let them do theirs.”
“You’re pretty calm about this,” he says, eyes narrowed as he studies me.
I shrug. “I’m trying to be good. I’m a Wisteria Cove business owner and I want people to take me seriously.”
“You eating okay?” he asks, changing the subject, looking down at half my burger still on my plate. “You were also picking at your lunch when I stopped by the shop yesterday.”
There it is. The soft moment that he always has for me. “I’m fine.”
“Want me to talk to the mayor?”
I frown and shake my head. “I can fight my own battles.”
He nods, but his eyes say he’s going to quietly fight them anyway.
We get back to the app. He critiques how I rarely make it to a second date until I remind him of his own dating issues. “Please, you never even make it to a second date with anyone either.”
“Maybe I have standards.”
“Maybe you just get bored,” I say dryly.
He drags his gaze over my face and mouth, and right now, he doesn’t look bored at all. After a beat, he looks away, focusing on his empty plate like it holds the secrets of the universe. My pulse races, and I pretend it doesn’t.
“Oh, hey, I forgot your song for the day,” he says as he slides off his stool. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch as he crosses the bar to the jukebox.
He flips through songs and retrieves quarters from his pocket.
He leans against the wall and waits for it to load.
He has to jiggle the side of the jukebox, and why that looks sexy, I don’t know, but it does.
Finn is a big guy with wide shoulders, and I hate that when I look at him, I have all these feelings.
Feelings I shouldn’t be having and chase out of my mind every time.
Don’t Stop Believin’ fills the room and I laugh.
Of course he’d pick that one. For years, music has been a thing for Finn and me.
Every time we see each other, we take turns picking a song and either texting it to each other or playing it for each other.
Finn usually brings a performance into the mix and sings it to me in his off-key voice.
I pretend to be annoyed, but it’s funny.
From rock classics to silly pop songs, we pick songs we think the other one might like or that remind us about something in our lives at that moment.
I’ve been compiling a playlist of all our songs since we’ve been doing this.
It’s a really long playlist now, but I listen to it sometimes, and each song reminds me of a memory of him.
Mack takes our plates and refills our beers as Finn slides in next to me.