Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
B y the end of her second day off work, Faye’s entire body ached form all the work she was doing at Nate’s place.
Her hands and arms hurt from using the paint sprayer for hours without breaks, and her legs and back were hurting now because she’d helped Nate lift heavy boards into place on his new deck.
Still, she had loved every minute of her time helping.
Even though they had only finished half of the back deck before the sun set on her last day off, she was excited about all the changes she’d helped make around the house.
Thankfully, the paint was dry enough that she could pull down all the plastic covering the windows so that the sunlight could stream into the rooms and they could see the full beauty of the freshly painted walls.
Everything looked fresh, like one of the pieces of the project was complete.
The air smelled cleaner now, too—less of that sharp paint scent from the day before.
Nate had mentioned that he’d left all the windows open overnight, and it seemed to have worked.
Most of the strong odor had faded, replaced by a crisp breeze that carried in the scent of the ocean.
How was she going to focus on work over the next few weeks, knowing he was here working on the place when she wanted to be here helping?
And she didn’t just want to be here because he worked without a shirt on most of the time. Sure, that was an added bonus, but she really did want to help out. It had awoken something deep in her that she had never known she needed before.
Her dreams were filled with painted walls, new door handles and windows, and gleaming hardwood floors.
How was she supposed to go back to making coffee, stocking books, and selling pastries now that she had gotten a taste of what was quickly becoming her greatest addiction?
The morning sunshine streamed through the big windows at the Brew-Ha-Ha, as rays snaked across the hardwood floors and the tops of the bookshelves.
Faye leaned against the counter, idly flipping through a new arrival—some fantasy novel with a castle on the cover—and glanced out at the slow-moving foot traffic along Main Street.
A few tourists meandered past with ice cream cones already in hand, while a couple of kids darted across the crosswalk, heading toward the beach, towels trailing behind them like capes.
It was the kind of lazy summer day where even the espresso machine seemed to hum at a slower pace.
She let out a long sigh and tapped the book closed.
“Bored already?” Lena asked with a smirk as she slid a tray of fresh lemon scones into the pastry case.
Lena was one of the high school kids that worked at the shop part-time, along with Clover, Jessie, Bridgette, and Robbie.
And she was now in charge of all of them while Nate was busy working on his place every day.
Nate had said that he wasn’t sure who would stick around when school started again, but Clover and Lena had assured her that they had worked there for over two years now and had no plans to leave anytime soon.
Faye grinned at Lena. “A little. It’s too nice out for anyone to want coffee and books. They’re all at the beach or the boardwalk.”
“Give it an hour,” Lena said, wiping her hands. “The need for sugar and cold drinks will bring them in eventually.”
Faye knew she was right as she walked toward the front windows, glancing again at the colorful Fourth of July flyer taped to the door.
In bold red letters across the top, it said “Pride’s Annual Fourth in the Square,” followed by a list of events: the farmers market, pie-eating contests, horseback rides, paddle board races, games for the kids, live music at the gazebo, and fireworks over the harbor.
She’d noticed the same flyer in every store window for the past few weeks. Only a week away.
Had it really been three weeks since she’d moved there?
The town went all out in decorating for the big event. Even the street lamps throughout Pride were decorated with red, white, and blue banners. All of the businesses got into the spirit as well, decorating their windows with their own flair—glitter, flags, hand-drawn doodles.
Clover and Lena had decorated their windows with window paint, which blocked the view slightly but was so festive that it didn’t bother her. They claimed they did this for every holiday and said that Halloween was by far their favorite.
Pride took its holiday celebrations seriously, and something about that made her heart ache in the best way. It reminded her of the kind of town you saw in movies. The kind of place where people showed up for each other. Where summer meant something.
And this year, it meant something to her too.
Nate had asked her to go with him to the event as their first real date. He had arranged for Lena, Clover, and Robbie to man the Brew-Ha-Ha’s booth during the event so they could enjoy themselves instead.
Nate had been adorably awkward about asking her to go with him too—rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, trying hard to play it cool. When he’d finally asked if she’d go with him, his voice had been low and hopeful. Which is when her heart had all but launched out of her chest.
And, of course, she had said yes.
Now, every time she saw those flyers, she felt a flutter in her stomach in anticipation of the day.
Not nerves exactly, just excitement. Something about the thought of spending the day with Nate—walking the booths, eating too much kettle corn, watching fireworks from a blanket on the grass in the town’s square—felt right.
Felt like it could be the start of something bigger than she’d planned on when she’d moved here.
At no point in her life had she dreamed of having a real relationship like Nate was talking about. Now, however, her mind was slowly changing. And it was all Nate’s doing. He made her believe things were possible.
She smiled to herself, still lingering in that warm, sun-drenched space between dreams and reality where she and Nate were strolling on the beach on a perfect summer evening.
Then they were sitting on a blanket on the soft cool grass with fireworks bursting overhead while Nate softly brushed his lips against hers.
For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t going to just survive—she was going to start living.
Then the front door chimed and reality intruded.
A tall woman with oversized sunglasses and a stiff posture swept into the bookstore like a storm front, pushing a wheeled designer stroller. A boy who appeared to be about ten years old was sitting in it and playing on a massive iPad.
The woman looked around the shop as if personally offended by its existence. The child didn’t even look up from his game, and the blasting volume from it caused Faye’s implant to vibrate whenever a particular cash register sound played.
Faye straightened up with a friendly smile. “Good morning! Welcome to the Brew-Ha-Ha. Can I help you find anything?”
The woman peeled off her glasses, revealing sharp eyes and an even sharper expression. “Is this it?” she asked, waving her hand in a wide arc. “This is a coffee shop? It looks like a bookstore.”
Faye blinked. “Uh, yes. It’s both. We have a wide selection of coffees, teas, fresh pastries— even wines,” she started but the woman waved her hand, stopping her.
“I want coffee, not pastries from a bake sale,” she said, already walking toward the counter. “Do you even carry oat milk? Or is that too much to ask in this… quaint little town?”
Her son glanced up for a second and eyed the pastries directly in front of him.
“I want a cookie,” he screamed over his game.
Faye’s implant buzzed, and she reached up and cupped her hand over it, knowing that sometimes helped.
Still, she kept her smile in place, biting the inside of her cheek as the pain spiked.
“We do have oat milk, yes. What can I get started for you?” she asked politely.
“I’ll have a 16-ounce cappuccino with oat milk, extra dry, and make sure the milk is steamed to exactly 140 degrees.
No powder or cinnamon on top—just foam. But not too much foam.
I want it airy, not stiff. You got that?
And I want it in a paper cup, not plastic, with a lid to go.
And don’t start steaming the milk until the espresso shot is ready, or it gets that weird burned taste. ”
The boy started making a loud whining sound, and the woman looked down at him and sighed. Then she glanced back up and arched her brows. “And the freshest and largest cookie you have.”
Faye nodded, then turned and got to work quickly behind the counter. She tried to keep her breathing steady as the pain persisted while the kid continued his game.
She knew that everyone had off days. Tourists could be tough sometimes, but she figured that she could handle this one. It was just one coffee and a cookie. Right? She’d been through worse days, she told herself as she ignored the buzzing in her head.
As she placed the drink on the counter and slid it gently toward the woman, she offered her best customer-service smile. “Here you go. One 16-ounce cappuccino with oat milk and one cookie.” She set the cookie, which was as big as her head, on the counter in a to-go container.
The woman removed the lid of her coffee and barely looked at it before replying.
“There is too much foam.” Her voice grew louder.
“I said airy.” She spoke to Faye as if she was talking to a child.
She shook the cup, spilling some liquid all over the countertop before replacing the lid.
“It’s far too stiff.” She narrowed her eyes slightly.
“This is exactly what I mean—overhyped coffee shops with no standards.”
Several heads in the café turned toward them.
“I’d be happy to remake it for you,” Faye said, already reaching for a fresh cup while the woman’s son reached up and took the cookie and started devouring it.
“Don’t bother,” the woman snapped, yanking the cup to her chest. “Clearly this place is just pretending to be something it’s not. Like every other over-decorated hole-in-the-wall that thinks fairy lights and Instagram filters count as charm. You can just comp me the coffee.”
Her words were sharp, each one digging like a splinter under Faye’s skin. Her son had finished the cookie and now had chocolate all over his face as he returned to the game. The cash register sound pulsed in Faye’s head each time. The woman turned to leave but Faye stopped her.
“No, I can’t comp you a perfectly good coffee, and you’ll have to pay for your son’s cookie as well,” Faye said firmly.
“The coffee isn’t up to my standards.”
“Then you’ll have no problem leaving it.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed again. “But it’s not up to my standards. Do you know who I am? I have over two million subscribers.” She narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. “I could ruin this place with one video.”
“I could call the police and have you arrested for not paying for your coffee and cookie.”
A slow smile formed on her lips. “I didn’t see you give my son a cookie. Where is it?” She motioned to the empty container.
“Your son ate it,” Faye pointed out, motioning to the chocolate and crumbs all over the boy.
“You couldn’t even make my coffee right. I doubt the cookie was any good.”
She felt the high-pitched buzzing in her head build. No, she thought. Just please stop until the woman leaves.
“Regardless, even if you leave the coffee, you will still have to pay for the cookie,” she said a little more firmly.
“I’d like to speak to your supervisor then.” The woman smiled.
“I am the supervisor here.” Faye took a deep breath as the woman crossed her arms over her chest.
“I am not paying for anything.” The woman’s chin rose slightly.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll call the local police.” She reached for the phone. The woman gasped.
“You wouldn’t dare. I’ve already explained that you didn’t make this coffee to my liking, and I’m sure you never delivered our cookie.” The woman’s voice rose and now everyone in the store was watching the show. She pulled out her phone as if to start recording the incident.
Faye didn’t know if she had hit record yet or not but didn’t care. This woman wasn’t going to get away with this.
“I don’t know where you think you are, but here in Pride, we don’t tolerate this kind of behavior. I’m sure you wouldn’t want your child to learn that he doesn’t have to pay for things that he eats, so just pay for the cookie and leave the coffee,” Faye said a little more firmly.
The kid’s game grew louder, as if he was trying to drown out the voices. She reached up, touching her implant again, trying to will it to stop the high-pitched sounds. Begging it to behave.
The woman was still talking, still criticizing the coffee, the cookies, the bookshelf displays, even the local artists’ prints on the wall. Her voice grew to an almost painful level as she moved around in circles as if videoing herself.
But suddenly, all of her words were warping.
Muffled.
The woman aimed her phone at Faye. Then there was one sharp high-pitched whine that caused Faye’s vision to gray. The sound was like an alarm rising in volume so loud that she’d do anything to escape it.
Then—the next moment there was nothing.
Complete silence.
Everything was just… gone.
Faye blinked rapidly, her chest tightening with panic. She tapped her implant. Nothing changed.
The woman was laughing and pointing at her with the camera, her lips moving a million miles an hour. She pointed her finger at Faye and then at the display case.
Faye turned slightly, looking toward Lena at the cash register. Lena had been helping other customers, but was now making her way over to her.
The whole world had gone silent.
Faye tried to focus. To slow her breath and heartbeat down.
The woman was still yelling at her, waving her phone and coffee cup around while her son’s face was glued to the game. She watched them, confused for a second, not understanding what was going on. For a split second, she couldn’t even think of where she was.
Everything was just too much.
Then the woman stopped talking and tilted her head, as if waiting for a response from Faye. Her phone was shoved in Faye’s face.
Faye was breathing hard and it felt impossible to keep her heart from bursting out of her chest. Then her vision grayed even more and tilted.
She lost her balance and gripped the countertop as if it was a lifeline. Her knees trembled, on the verge of buckling under her. The fluorescent lights overhead suddenly became too bright.
Lena’s hands touched her arm just as she felt herself falling.
Then darkness rushed in.
And this time, Nate wasn’t there to catch her. She landed on the polished floor of the Brew-Ha-Ha surrounded by the silence she could no longer escape.