Chapter 2 #2
Birdie was our family nanny since I was born. She moved here and retired to Coconut Beach when I went off to college. And we’ve stayed close ever since. So close, it always made Mom jealous, though she’d never admit that. Birdie didn’t come to my wedding because my mother wouldn’t allow it.
I should have fought for that. Gone against my mother’s control. Argued for something I wanted for once. But I didn’t. Story of my life.
Until now…
I know Birdie would have hated the wedding anyway. She doesn’t like my mother or Belladonna either. Today, she was missing out on what was supposed to be one of the most important days of my life, but now I’m here with her. And somehow that makes sense.
Coconut Beach looks smaller than I remember.
Birdie brought me here on spring break in college.
There were also a few Christmas breaks that weren’t celebrated because my mom was off at a spa, so I’d spend them here as well.
It was always a special place to me. If I close my eyes and picture home, Birdie’s cottage comes to mind.
I spot the marina with the boats bobbing in neat rows, their wakes drawing faint white lines behind them like scribbles.
I swallow, and tears prick the edges of my eyes.
I’ve missed Birdie, and I need her. It isn’t lost on me that I’m not crying over losing Tyler.
Sure, there have been times where I’ve been crying over what he and Belladonna did to me, but not because he broke my heart.
I’m emotional at the thought of seeing Birdie.
It feels like coming home. And I haven’t had that feeling for such a long time.
I spent my whole life in places with people who expect things from me.
A special version of myself who meets their expectations.
Work hard, go to college, and be next in line to take over the family company.
I’m done being pulled by their strings. I’m no one’s puppet.
Birdie genuinely wants to spend time with me, and she loves me. And I need this. I need her.
The wheels touch down on the runway with a solid thud. I sit up and stretch, still agitated that I’m in this suffocating dress. As soon as I find a big enough bathroom, I’m going to make changing my next priority.
By the time I make it to the ride share pickup, my feet hurt in the ridiculous wedding heels, my head hurts from downing champagne and not having enough water, and my phone will not shut up with constant notifications.
The worst part is that some of them are reporters reaching out for comments.
Thank God they don’t know where I went. Hopefully, it stays that way, and I can fly under the radar for a while.
I shove the phone into my purse. Future Silvie can deal with the fallout. Present Silvie is wearing a wedding dress in the Florida heat, and that feels like enough ridiculousness for one day.
The ride share smells like coconut air freshener and salty beach air through the open windows of the retro Bronco with no top. I give the driver Birdie’s address, then sink back against the seat, watching Coconut Beach slide by through the window.
“Is that Birdie’s address?” the driver asks with a smile. He looks to be in his fifties, wearing a palm tree-print shirt and looking laid-back.
I look up at him. “Do you know her?”
He grins. “Everyone here knows Birdie. She’s one of the Bees.”
I wrinkle my brow, not remembering Birdie mentioning anything about that. “What’s a Bee?”
He chuckles. “It’s a group of older ladies in Coconut Beach that basically, unofficially, run the town. In fact, tonight is their monthly bingo night. It’s a big deal. Goes on until midnight, and she’ll be there. She never misses bingo with her fellow Bees. Should I take you there, instead?”
I inwardly groan. I can’t go to bingo, face the town and embarrass Birdie. Plus, I don’t want her to think she has to stop what she’s doing with her friends just for me. I didn’t come here to be a burden. I guess I could just wait for her at her cottage.
“Just take me to her place,” I say absently, marveling over the beauty of the palm trees silhouetted against a violet sky as the sun begins to set.
Then I see the weathered sign swinging slightly in the breeze.
Cocktails & Chaos. A tiki bar. Maybe a good place to wind down before I face Birdie and unravel the last two years of trauma and drama.
Because I know that when I’m with her, I’m going to finally fall apart.
Birdie is the only person I can do that with.
“Wait,” I blurt. “Wait, wait, wait.”
The driver taps the brakes. “Everything okay?”
“Stop here,” I rush out. “Please.” I hand him a wad of cash and climb out before I can overthink it. I have no idea why, but something is telling me to stop here.
Just like your gut told you to run from your wedding?
Your gut was right.
As soon as the warm, salty air hits my skin, I’m flooded with relief. I grab my bag, sling my purse over my shoulder, and march up to Cocktails & Chaos like a woman on a mission.
It’s a cute little establishment, open on three sides with a long bar running along the length of it. Smooth barstools are scattered from one end to the other. String lights stretch across the back bar, lighting up the bottles along the wall in a whimsical way. It’s charming and I like it.
I trip over the threshold of the bar when my feet get tangled in my dress and I grab a nearby stool to steady myself.
My bag slides off my shoulder, so I let it drop to the sandy wood floor at my feet.
It’s then I realize what shape my dress is in.
I’ve somehow torn the bottom of it, and it’s completely filthy. Well, there’s that.
I hear someone mutter nearby, “Is she...”
In a wedding dress?
Yep.
Nothing to see here, folks.
The tiki bar is thankfully cool, with fans, and loud, with good music playing from the speakers. Glasses clink, and the air smells of fried food and something sweet. A breeze picks up and blows my hair behind me as I slide onto the stool. It feels like every head turns and stares at me.
Probably because I’m still very much wearing my wedding dress.
If I could get the damn thing off, I would.
It’s like a straitjacket straight from hell.
I ignore the stares and plop my purse down on the bar top, dramatically exhaling when my phone buzzes again.
I pull it out and shudder at all of the unread messages. So many unread messages.
I close my eyes and shake my head. “Nope.”
Still not dealing with any of that. I need five minutes. Or five drinks. Or a lobotomy. It all sounds promising.
The bartender stops in front of me, and I stare at him, frowning. He’s unexpectedly handsome, and I can’t help but notice. Sun-kissed skin, dark hair that curls, and a smile that’s as warm as the air breezing in off the ocean.
I’m not sure I’m mentally equipped to deal with a good-looking man when I’ve just left a mediocre one at the altar.
The man looks about my age and is completely at ease, like he knows exactly who he is and isn’t trying to prove anything to anyone.
There’s something about him I can’t put my finger on.
I’ve spent all day running, unraveling, pretending I’m fine, and standing here under his quiet, easy gaze, I feel myself slow down.
Like maybe, for the first time today, I don’t have to be anywhere else.
He’s calming. I bet it earns him all kinds of good tips. The nice grin doesn’t hurt either. Selfishly, I’m glad to have something to distract me from my rampant thoughts.
He takes in my dress, slumped posture, and my exhausted expression. “Long day?”
“You have no idea,” I murmur.
I’m curious as to how someone lands a job like this. Honestly, it seems kind of nice. I wonder what his story is.
“What can I get you?” he asks, smiling warmly. Not flirty, just safe and solid. I silently thank God because that’s what I need right now. Just someone to be kind to me. Plus, he’s easy on the eyes and I deserve a pretty view after my day from hell.
“Something that makes my current life choices feel justified.” I snort.
He arches a brow. “Dealer’s choice?”
“Surprise me.”
He grins, turns, and starts mixing. I watch him work, grateful for the distraction. He throws a glass, catches it, dances a little, and hums to the music. He’s in his element here, and I don’t miss the fact that a lot of eyes are on him, watching him. Apparently, everyone is enjoying the view.
He slides a bright yellow and orange drink in front of me with a blue paper umbrella perched on the rim.
“Sex on the Beach,” he says as if he’s trying to get me to laugh. “A popular tourist favorite.”
I laugh. “Of course.”
I twirl the umbrella between my fingers after I take a sip and mumble to myself, “This will be the only sex I’ll be having for a very long time.”
He raises his eyebrows and wipes down the bar, not saying anything to that, but I know he probably heard. Great, he thinks I’m a lunatic who talks to herself.
“Need something to eat?” he asks, sliding a menu across the bar.
I suddenly realize how hungry I am. “I probably should eat something. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Want me to surprise you with that, too?” he asks, dark hazel eyes glittering with flecks of gold and a splash of mischief.
I chuckle and nod. “Yeah, surprise me. I’m starving.”
He winks at me before sauntering off. I catch a couple of women staring dreamily at his butt. I stifle an inappropriate giggle.
I needed this. Beach, drinks, food, and a cute, friendly bartender to remind me there’s more to life than a shitty, cheating ex-fiancé and a monstrous sister who classifies as an enemy rather than blood.
Much to my delight, the patrons at the bar slowly forget about me. Or maybe they decide this is Coconut Beach and weird things just happen here. Either way, I suck down my sweet drink and wait for whatever food the bartender’s going to bring me.
My new life starts now.